by VK Gregory
‘No, but you didn’t exactly say no, did you?’
‘Nor did you,’
‘You knew what he was like,’ he screamed the last words at me and then covered his face with his hands. I wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him how sorry I was and promise that it wasn’t Daniel. But I didn’t believe it myself, and I knew he wouldn’t want my touch,
‘I’m sorry, about Alyssa and Jaiden. But accidents happen, it might not have been him,’
‘Yeah, accidents. Right, in the only building where we are? How many people are dead because of him?’ he looked at those flames, powerless, ‘I think it’s time we even the score a little,’
‘What do you mean?’ he turned back to the blazing building,
‘I’m going to find him, and I’m going to kill him. Do this world a favour,’ he took a lasting gaze at the flames licking up through the windows, staring poignantly at one window where his had sister lived, and died
‘Don’t—‘
‘Are you saying that because you think he’s innocent, or because you still love him?’ I looked away, refusing to answer, not knowing the answer myself, ‘I advise you to run Katy, get as far away from here as possible. Don’t go looking for him, don’t try to save him. If I see you with him, I might not manage to control myself,’
‘Are you threatening me?’ he turned to go and hesitated for a moment,
‘I like you, you’re nice, I don’t want to hurt you. But your love for this man, this killer, it sickens me. I can see it, you’re worried about him, about him dying,’ I wanted to deny it, claim I could never love a man like that, never love a killer. But I stayed silent, not trusting my voice. He grimaced at me and then shook his head, ‘You deserve each other. For your kindness to me, I’ll make it quick,’
‘Please,’ I begged, dragging myself to my feet and chasing him as he walked away. I touched his arm, pleading with him. Not Danny. He couldn’t kill Danny, the panic at the thought of his death surprised me, ‘don’t do this,’ he shook me off hard and I stumbled again. This time he didn’t try to stop me, but his face showed hidden sorrow and concern. Then he turned and disappeared into the night, leaving me alone, hurt and frightened on the manicured lawn of a burning building.
Chapter Thirteen
Two possibilities occurred to me as I brushed away tears and stood back up, standing watching the fire consume the flats, one was that if Danny was responsible, he was almost certainly watching us, watching me and listening. He knew Dean was coming and Dean wouldn’t stand a chance. Daniel was safe, but guilty.
Or Daniel wasn’t responsible and wasn’t expecting Dean, in which case he would likely die if Dean surprised him. Daniel would be innocent but dead. If I saw Daniel alive again, it pretty much secured his guilt. Setting fire to a building he knew I was sleeping in.
Suddenly, I didn’t feel so safe. My certainty that Daniel would never hurt me wobbled precariously, had he seen the kiss? I looked around me, searching the dark trees, the night around me, looking for him. But there was only me; the fire lit up the streets like the sun, any place he was hiding had to be well concealed. In case he was watching I called out,
‘Danny? Are you here? You didn’t have to do that. I love you, it’s always been you,’ I felt disloyal saying those words, but I felt the need to secure my safety. The night offered no reply. I knew I had to find somewhere safe to sleep, far away from the blaze which could easily catch and spread to nearby buildings, I walked, coughing and hacking, through the night streets, not caring if Danny saw me. If he was here, then he already knew how to follow me without my knowledge.
He knew everything.
Resigned to that fact, I picked a house at random, breaking a window round the back to get in, not caring if he saw me or heard the glass shatter. I pushed my hand through the broken glass, cutting my wrist as I did, and pushed on the handle, thankful when the door opened. The utter hopelessness of my life now dawned on me as I collapsed on a bed upstairs, grateful of the softness as I coughed myself to sleep.
I woke up to silence and darkness. I had no lights, no torch and no candles and no idea how long I had slept. Although I was certain I might find something in this house, it was too dark to search, so I pulled back the curtain to could see the moonlight instead. The darkness scared me, it felt suffocating and I felt too unnerved by the absolute blackness to get up and do anything about it. It was only the need to urinate that forced me out of bed, stumbling down the unfamiliar hallways looking for the bathroom.
I searched the bathroom cupboards looking for candles, but found nothing.
Suddenly, my loneliness overwhelmed me, there was no one to turn to, to call to. No one in the whole world now. With Dean gone, I had only two choices, surrender to a life of solitude, or surrender myself. To Daniel. And his dangerous, all-consuming love.
I sat down onto the green bathroom rug and took out my phone, I probably only had an hour left before the battery ran out. Slowly the battery had ticked away, taking with the last link to my past life. I clicked on my photo album and stared at the photos. Daniel and me, laughing, messing around, posing. Friends, family, summer, winter, spring, autumn, a life lived in pictures. One particular photo caught my eye: Daniel. It was taken in the moments after a minor car accident, where he’d accidentally hit someone while reversing, nothing serious, but enough to cause minor injuries. Daniel had asked me to take a photo of him and the car, for insurance.
His blank, emotionless face, reminded me how unconcerned he had been for the woman he’d hit, instead focusing on his car, and his liability. I remember the barely controlled anger at the woman, how dare she walk behind him. Anger he had taken out on me later. Words he had screamed at me, insults, threats. He had always been a psychopath, just one that learnt to act like others when facing the world. And now there was no more world to hold him in check.
I had loved him even after that incident, continued to love him on numerous other times when his coldness was obvious, when his misdirected anger brought tears to my eyes. Sometimes instead of the coldness, his acting was over the top, pretending he cared, huge romantic gestures, or even tears. Thinking back there were many times that stood out in my mind.
I sighed, looking at the photo and yearning for the man I had tried to believe he was before this world scratched away at his silver surface, revealing the rust beneath. I know he would welcome me, even now. But with hands that had reached out and murdered, hands that had hurt, hands that had killed Dean’s sister and her son. But hands that I knew.
I fell asleep holding onto the phone, enveloped in my loneliness and desperation, unsure what to do next. When darkness faded away into the morning, I awoke no closer to any decision but to the blackness of my phone. It had run out of batteries at last.
My face felt taut and sore, so I washed it under running water in the bathroom. The freezing cold made me gasp as it hit my skin and droplets ran off my chin, running down the neck and wetting the pink collar of my smoke-damaged shirt. I stared into the large mirror, looking at my face which looked shiny and puffy and red, shiny, swollen lips stretched grotesquely - I hardly recognized myself any more.
I turned back to dry my hands on the cream towel and glimpsed movement out of the corner of my eye. Just for a split second. Movement through the keyhole which looked out into the hallway. I held by breath, not moving. Had I imagined it? I stared through the keyhole from the other side of the small bathroom, I could only see the opposite door down the hall and everything looked still. Just as I let out my breath and was about to open the door and leave, I saw it again, movement. The keyhole went black as someone moved in front of it, blocking the light. I clasped a hand in front of my mouth. Who was it? Frozen to the spot, my heart thumping painfully, I couldn’t move. The shadow moved away, onwards to a different room. I needed a weapon, something to defend myself. As quietly as I could, I forced myself to look around, but the bathroom was sparse, quietly searching the shelves, I found nothing. How could there be no weapons at all?
Not even scissors, I had to be creative.
Mouth wash. I stared at the pink bottle. Memories of the burning pain and stinging made me pause thoughtfully, imagine if someone threw it at your eyes. I grabbed the bottle and undid the cap. Feeling foolish, armed with my mouthwash I made my way to the door, standing just behind it so whoever it was wouldn’t see me until he was hit with the mouthwash. And I waited.
The intruder was discreet, almost silent, I forced myself to listen but heard an occasional rustle, a tiny footstep nothing else. Was he coming? I risked a glance at the keyhole, bending down just enough to look through the tiny iron hole, it was black. I tried to move back startled, but there wasn’t time. The intruder pushed the door open hard, hitting me in the head and forcing my body into the wall behind me. The impact was hard enough to knock me to the white tiled floor, dizzy, confused and disorientated. I tried to put my foot on the door, use my body to stop the intruder entering the room. But I was weakened and dizzy, he pushed against the door, the wood pressing into my legs as I pushed my weight against it.
My mind screamed urgently at me to find the mouthwash; it was lying on its side a little way from me, seeping out on the floor, pink against the stark white. Like diluted blood. I grabbed at the bottle, desperately trying to get it without letting go of the door.
Every push against the door hurt me. Forcing my body not to retreat, I finally grabbed the mouthwash as the intruder pushed his way into the room. I didn’t wait for him to strike. I used every last molecule of energy left in my body, to push myself to my feet and throw the mouthwash in the direction of the intruder. I knew it had hit when I heard him scream,
‘Ow, fuck,’ I pushed him out the way and ran from the room. Scrambling down the stairs, I risked a glance back into the bathroom, seeing the man standing by the door, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve, muttering to himself in annoyance.
It was Daniel.
I kept running.
There was nowhere I could run that Daniel would not find me. Still I ran through the streets, glancing behind me constantly. I was sure he wanted to hurt me, sure that he would kill me if he found me. The streets soon became unfamiliar, and I found myself walking on a dirt track heading into the hills, the morning sun ahead of me, peeking over the horizon. As I struggled to the top of the hill, I looked behind me, the expanse of green blanketing the world. There was nowhere to hide. If Daniel was following me now, he wasn’t in the green fields before me. Sighing with relief, I looked ahead, the rolling countryside stilled my breath, and the far-off glint of the sea reminded me that I was close to home still. I wiped sweat from my eyes and tried to think, a ball of panic resting like a hot potato in my stomach. Ahead of me a small track twisted to the left, another track went straight ahead.
Which one would Daniel take? Which one would Daniel think I would take? I made a split decision and took the track to the left, hoping it would lead me to a farmhouse.
Miles from civilisation, I prayed Daniel would not find me, As I picked up speed on the downward slope of the hill, I thought about Daniel. Why had he come into that house? Had he planned to kill me, or take me prisoner? I thought of the woman in the shed and I shuddered, finding my feet moving faster.
As I met the track and followed it around the trees, I glimpsed a white, stone farmhouse nestled in a valley below. It was not ideal, if he saw it he would know I was there. But I could rest, I could take time to plan, to think. The valley was steep and I struggled over the rough terrain with my inappropriate shoes, faltering sometimes.
The door was ajar, and as I stumbled closer, I could see a man and his dog stood in the opening. I wondered if I could get around him without hurting him. I stopped close, staring at his still face, rugged lines crossing his stubbly face. I wondered if his life mattered, if it would be wrong to simply touch his arm and wither it all away.
I couldn’t think of any reason not to end it, but something inside me still stopped my hand before it could touch him. I sighed, looked again at the door, the space was not big enough for me. Instead I turned around and walked around the house, looking for another way in. I stepped around a duck statue to the peeling white back door. It was closed, but opened with a creak letting me into the cool dark of the house, as I lurched over the threshold and locked the door behind me. I pressed my back to the door and breathed deeply. Closed doors always gave a false sense of security. As if wood, could stop a determined murderer. I ran to the front to close that door, shutting out the owner from his house.
He was not there.
I stopped so fast, I almost stumbled forwards. I stood, staring through the doorway at the place where the farmer had been. The air was thick and ominous. There was no ash pile. Where was he?
I felt movement, a hair on the back of my neck, a shiver on my spine, and I spun around, expecting to see Daniel during his stalking. And I cried out as I faced him. The farmer.
At first I thought he was a statue and I had it wrong. I had seen him wrong, he was inside all the time. I moved closer to him, trying to make sure he wasn’t about to come back like Dean.
I circled him, watching out for any signs of life. Suddenly he moved. Hi head twisted slowly to face me, his eyes staring and unblinking as he met my gaze. I cried out in shock and I tried to step back but hit the door. His face was blank, unmoving, but his eyes watched, stalking me as his neck twisted. Instinctively I pushed him out the way, shoving him to the side as I ran past him, finding myself back into the hallway, as I risked a glance back. He was melting, his skin shrivelling as his silence turned to a shriek. But his demise had not stopped him craning his neck to see me. His neck twisted painfully, I could hear the bones and ligaments snapping like old leather, as he forced his head around. My heart felt like it exploded beating too fast and too hard. I backed away screaming, and then ran. A pain filled animalistic shriek followed me as I ran back through the door and out, slamming the door behind me as I sprinted from the house and the monster that had once been a man.
Chapter Fourteen
I panted desperately for breath, but too afraid to slow down or stop. I was sure I could feel his staring eyes boring into my back as I ran. My terrified brain trying to make sense of it.
If I thought I had known fear before, this crushed it all. I’d reached the limits of my ability to cope. I never wanted to stop running but I could not run forever. Once the adrenalin faded the exhaustion gained ground and my run turned to a jog and eventually a walk. Then I stopped, leaning over and breathing heavily, trying to catch my breath. Only then did I look around and take in my surroundings.
I was in a wood, or a forest. Closely packed trees surrounded me, my path ahead blocked by the lush green foliage. I didn’t know how I had found my way here, nor did I know how I would find my way out. Rising panic forced me to look for the path I had just come from, but the dense undergrowth offered no paths at all. I was lost. I had no choice but to go forward, in an upward direction. If I could head for higher ground I might see my way out.
I fought through the overgrown wood, stumbling over roots and thick wiry plants, until I caught my foot around some strangle weed and fell with a thud, rolling backwards, down the hill I had struggled so hard to climb. As I rolled, my hands grasping for anything that I could find, pulling up weeds and plants as I went, I wondered if this was it. If somehow, my nightmare was finally over. The spinning world ended with a thump as my head hit a rock and for a moment the world went black.
I welcomed it; the drowning out of the creeping darkness. The desperate situation I was in was exhausting, but too soon cold drops of rain woke me, bringing me back to the present. I shuddered as I opened my eyes, my head hurting and my eyes burning. The rain was only just finding its way through the trees, just barely falling on my exhausted face. I lifted my face upwards, breathing in the wet, fresh scent of rainfall.
What now?
I saw ahead of me a weeping willow with thick, green fronds, arched like a majestic umbrella against the rain. Underneath was warm and
reasonably dry, only small droplets of water found their way through the leaves. I sat upon the damp autumn carpet beneath me, then curled up, pressing my knees into my chest as I felt the overwhelming tiredness pulling on my eyelids. I hadn’t slept since before the fire with Dean, as I closed my eyes I tried to forget the burning rage of the flames, licking up at the windows as Dean screamed in anger. I tried to forget the abject lonely and hopelessness of my situation here on earth, I tried to forget the snapping of bones as the farmer turned to me. I slept fitfully, somehow still aware of the sprinkle of fresh droplets falling on my face and the dampness beneath me. Even though I slept, I did not truly rest. The tiredness did not abate. My fitful sleep did not refresh me.
As is often the case after a traumatic incident, I awoke in even more pain. Painfully cold legs and stiff joints with my clothes damp and plastered to my moist skin. I was disorientated only briefly as I recalled the entirety of the previous day. Time felt confused, without my phone and with no watch I had no idea what time of day it was. Glancing up at the soft grey sky, the clouds obscuring the sun, I realised it didn’t even matter anymore.
Time was for humanity and now humanity had stopped. Just three of us remained moving in a world of living statues. I sighed listening instead to the rumble of my stomach as I pushed myself up to a seated position, grimacing in pain as my hips and legs ached and burned, while I shivered with the cold, wishing I had a thick coat to wrap around me.
It was then I saw movement. Something had woken me after all. I paused, a heavyweight of fear resting on my chest. Flashes of the farmer paralysed me as I waited. I wanted it to be Dean, I even wanted it to be Daniel. I waited for more movement, but there was none and I could not wait forever. Taking a breath, I crept out from my willow house, backing into the forest. The silence seemed loud, humming and throbbing as I listened out for footsteps. It was semi dark in the shade of the trees, dark, damp and cold. Never had I felt more alone in my life, never had I wanted to turn to someone, anyone and say “it’s dark” or “brrr, it’s cold” more. I wanted to reach for a hand, squeeze it in my fearful fingertips and know we were stronger in solidarity. I swallowed a lump of fear and sadness as I thought of my family, my life I had once lived.