by Anthony Burn
I gathered my things together and checked the time before turning back to just before I’d come through the front door. Then placing my bits and pieces outside the shower, I turned on the taps and cleaned myself up while I attempted to calm down. I lathered and scrubbed for five minutes before deciding that if I stayed in the shower any longer Lauren might come to investigate. At that point, I grabbed the device and turned back four minutes to make sure I didn’t lose my belongings, and repeated the process.
The next time, I turned back only three minutes before drying myself and picking up my possessions. My blood-soaked clothes were gone, and I knew that Lauren would notice if I changed into anything else so I opted to put on my bathrobe, and then walked through the pristine apartment to make peace with my girlfriend.
She was standing exactly where she had been when I first arrived home. It seemed like an age ago to me, but for her it couldn’t have been more than two or three minutes later. Her shoulders heaved as I sidled up behind her, and I knew without seeing her face that she was still fuming. My own anger and bitterness had long since dissipated, to be replaced with overwhelming guilt and remorse, so I spoke quietly to her. ‘Lauren, I am so, so sorry. Please forgive me.’
She rounded on me, the anger burning in her tear-streaked face. ‘I should hope you are fucking sorry,’ she snapped.
I wanted to take her in my arms and kiss her better, but knew she would resist so I kept my distance and my calm. ‘I never meant to hurt you so badly,’ I told her. ‘That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.’
‘Why, Kee? Why did you do it?’ Her tone was changing slightly, but she was far from placated.
‘I don’t know. I’ve got no idea what came over me. I was angry and upset, but that’s no excuse. I should never have done that to you. I’m truly sorry.’
‘What were you angry about?’
Up until that point I’d been referring to the atrocity, which now I’d turned back time hadn’t actually happened, so I had to mentally switch gears to bring the conversation back to what she was talking about. ‘As I came back from the toilet, I heard Bill Rogers tell that guy to go for anything “they” placed a bid on.’ It was a small untruth because I hadn’t heard him say it, but it had proved to be the case.
‘So why didn’t you say something?’ she asked.
‘Because I wasn’t sure he meant us, and I didn’t think you’d believe he would risk his reputation unless I proved it to you, but I had to prove it to myself first.’
‘You could have told me what you were doing.’
‘I know and I should have done, but by the time I realised he wasn’t bidding on anything else, I was so mad that I just snatched the paddle without thinking.’
‘Do you really think they were trying to stop us?’ she asked. ‘Would they really stoop to such underhand tricks?’
The anger had left her eyes although her face was still flushed so I kept my tone even. ‘I really don’t know. I could have got it completely wrong, but I’m convinced that if we hadn’t forced them into buying those other paintings, they would have outbid us on the one we wanted.’
She shook her head, but her voice was quiet. ‘I don’t know, Kee. I can’t believe that Bill would do that.’
‘Or it could be that he trusts your judgement, and thought anything you bid on was worth going for. Which reminds me, I promised you control over all the major decisions and it must have looked like I took it away from you when I snatched the paddle from your lap. I’m truly sorry for that. I never meant to hurt you. Please forgive me.’
She came into my arms and I cradled her head against my chest, feeling waves of relief as I tried desperately but unsuccessfully to banish the image of her mutilated corpse from my mind.
‘I was hurt,’ she said as she wiped her face with the collar of my robe, ‘but I behaved like a spoilt brat too. I’m sorry.’
‘You had every right to. After what I’ve done to you, the only one who needs to apologise is me.’
She kissed me briefly and then smiled. ‘We did get the picture though.’
‘Yes, we did.’ I returned her smile and gave silent thanks for my reprieve. ‘We should go out and celebrate.’
‘Okay, lovely.’ She looked inquisitively at my bathrobe. ‘Is that why you’ve showered?’
‘Partly,’ I agreed, ‘but mainly because I needed time to think about how I was going to apologise to you.’
‘It’s okay. You did a good job,’ she assured me. ‘So, where are you going to take me?’
‘Italian?’ I suggested.
Her eyes widened with delight. ‘Yeah, great. I’ll just get showered and changed.’
‘Pizza Hut it is then.’ I laughed, even though my heart wasn’t really in the joke.
My shame had only diminished slightly by the time we’d sat down in our favourite restaurant. I watched Lauren place delicate forkfuls of antipasto into her mouth. Her spirits had lifted completely, and it was hard not to be buoyed by her radiant smile and laughing eyes, but each time I felt my disposition rising from the sea of regret, a vision of her disfigured body sent it crashing back against the rocks. I smiled wanly as we made small talk and discussed plans for the painting, but it wasn’t long before she noticed that my current temperament was nowhere near her own.
‘This is meant to be a celebration, Kee. What’s wrong?’
‘It’s nothing, really,’ I said. ‘I’m still feeling bad about having hurt you so much.’
‘You don’t have to. I totally forgive you. I’ve forgotten all about it, I promise.’
I gave a half-hearted smile. ‘I just hate causing you pain.’
She laughed. ‘It’s okay. I’m not mortally wounded.’
‘Okay.’ I tried to match her humour, but her innocent words had cut me deeply and I wondered if there was some subconscious part of her that knew what I had done. That was impossible, I told myself; she couldn’t know because it hadn’t happened to her, but then she pulled open the collar of her blouse, revealing a small part of her chest. ‘Look.’ She grinned. ‘Not a mark on me.’
This time I must have grimaced because she became concerned.
‘Come on, Kee. It’s really not that bad.’
I pulled myself together. ‘You’re right. It’s just that I love you so much and I never want to hurt you again.’
‘I know you didn’t meant to, Kee. You’re the kindest, most considerate man I’ve ever met.’
I returned her warm smile, but my inner voice asked if perhaps she meant the kindest, most considerate murderer she’d ever met, before I pushed it to the back of my mind.
Even so, and although I’d brightened my mood for her there was still something else troubling me. It was true that I never wanted to hurt her again, and after the first two occasions I’d promised myself I would find a way to make sure I didn’t, but those promises had soon been forgotten when our lives had returned to normal. I’d simply convinced myself I wouldn’t lose control in the future, but now I could see I would have to be proactive in my approach to the problem if I wanted to make sure that I didn’t repeat my actions.
Yet even that wasn’t my main concern. Although I’d been horrified by my behaviour and the suffering I’d inflicted on the love of my life, I was especially worried because I also knew it was the most exciting thing I’d ever done.
Twenty-nine
I chose her at random but planned it meticulously. I’d seen her several times before in passing, but this time I followed her home. When she had gone inside, I turned back ten minutes before ringing her doorbell to check there was no one else at home. With no answer or movement from within, I waited for a while and tried once more with the same result. I moved away down the road, and after she came home this time I watched the house for half an hour to make sure nobody came to visit her.
Satisfied that I wasn’t going to be disturbed, I wound the clock back again and watched her come home for a third time. I waited just out of view while she unlocked her front d
oor, and then I rushed her as she opened it, pushing her over as I dashed into the house. I turned the device back to see her disappear before my eyes and the front door securely closed.
I wandered around her home to make sure that it really was empty, and having found her bathroom I stripped off all my clothes and placed them with the rest of my belongings in a corner. After waiting for about a minute, I double-checked the time and re-dressed before making my way to her kitchen. I found a long sharp knife in a cutlery drawer, and felt my heart thumping while I waited.
I couldn’t believe I was about to go through with it. The plan had seemed so simple in my head, but once there I wasn’t sure I was capable of carrying it out. I’d wrestled with it for days, appalled that I could even conceive of the idea, and had to keep telling myself that in the end no one would be hurt.
When I’d killed Lauren, it had been an accident – completely unpremeditated. This was different. I knew what I was about to do, and it felt callous even if I believed it was necessary. The twin horrors of having taken Lauren’s life and having been excited by doing so had played on my mind for several days, until I’d eventually come to the conclusion that the only way to prevent myself from hurting her again was to get it out of my system. Hopefully, after forcing myself to deliberately commit the crime, I would never want to repeat it.
I heard the key turning in the front door lock and froze, trying not to hyperventilate while the pounding of my heart became so loud that I was sure it would give away my presence. She wandered untroubled into her living room, put her bag on a chair and slipped off her coat before she saw me. She screamed in exactly the way I expected upon seeing a complete stranger in her home, brandishing a kitchen knife.
In the end, it was over quite quickly. I couldn’t say I enjoyed it, but my arousal was unmistakable. She died very soon after I climaxed, which came as a relief because having done so, I instantly felt the guilt of her suffering; in that remorseful state, I wasn’t sure if I would have had the nerve to finish her off. I would have hated to prolong her agony, but I wasn’t ready to turn back time.
I took off my blood-soaked clothes and left them with her body while I used her bathroom to clean myself up. Then I turned back to when I’d been in the room before. I dressed again in the clean clothes that I’d left in the corner, and then quietly left the empty house before she came home. Once outside, I turned back some more. Now I’d gone back to when I had never been inside the house, so there was no evidence – no fingerprints, no DNA and, most importantly of all, no victim.
I saw her at the far end of her street while I was walking away. She returned my smile as we passed each other.
If I’d thought that deliberately killing once would so disgust me that it would rid me of the urge to ever do it again, then I was sadly mistaken. It only proved to me that I was able to do the unspeakable, and that it was a simple matter to completely get away with it. It also showed me that with a stranger, I felt none of the sorrow I had done for Lauren. I resisted the temptation for as long as I could, but after a while the same anxieties about violating my girlfriend resurfaced, and I knew I had to take my vice elsewhere in order to protect her.
Soon it had become routine, and it wasn’t long afterwards that I found that killing wasn’t enough; I had to rape them in the process to achieve satisfaction. I hated the idea of cheating on Lauren, but if it was the price I had to pay for never causing her harm then I determined it was worth it.
I didn’t have feelings for any of my victims – the guilt I’d experienced in the beginning diminished with every attack until I became detached from my emotions – but even so, I made it part of my ritual that I always saw them afterwards, to make sure they were completely unharmed and unknowing of my transgressions.
That is what my life has become for the past six months. I’m not proud of what I do, and often think I would like to stop, but I console myself with the thought that I haven’t had the slightest inclination to hurt Lauren again, and that for the women I’ve used, nothing has ever happened to them. Everything I’ve done has taken place in a time that they will never live through. It is truly a victimless crime.
I’ve often wondered exactly what that makes me. By anybody’s definition I would have to be classed as evil, and I accept that. But I’m not a psychopath; I have empathy for these women, and there is no chance that I could leave them permanently harmed. Neither am I a sociopath; I know exactly what I am doing and know it is wrong, even if I can undo everything afterwards.
Which leaves me contemplating… What would anyone in my position do? If they were able to turn back time, would they become like me? In my head, I can almost hear the outrage of civilised people in their negative response to that question. Two years ago I would have joined in the chorus of disapproval, but knowing I didn’t become a killer overnight, that it was a gradual process, makes it harder now to accept that protest.
Civilisation is a set of rules that society places on itself to suppress our natural instincts. I have no problem with that and would hate to think of a world without those rules, but civilisation is a veneer. Most of us are happy to live under its protection, but for some the veneer is so thin that it is full of holes or virtually non-existent. All that is left is their nature. Whether we like it or not, it is an overriding human characteristic to be aggressive, and it is those that live by instinct alone who commit the worst atrocities against the rest of us.
On the other hand, we are also tribal. Yet while grouping together offers us protection, it increases our hostility to others outside our own faction. At a national level, we punish our enemies by waging war and dropping bombs on them, but whatever the justification, it is hard to imagine anything less civilised.
I believe that even the most enlightened people can’t suppress their nature completely. I’m sure the gentlest and most considerate of us have occasionally harboured violent fantasies against those who have wronged us. Anyone who has secretly thought about smacking another person in the mouth or knifing them in their sleep has already taken the first step towards what I have become. Anyone who has acted aggressively towards someone else is a lot further along that road. I firmly believe that if they had a device like mine, given time, those first steps would gradually escalate until they were doing exactly the same as me – or worse.
Corruption comes not from the power to commit atrocities – anyone can do that – but from the ability to get away with them. Everyone is either corrupt or corruptible. Anyone could follow the path I’ve taken. Especially if they could see with certainty that they would never have to answer for their crimes.
If they knew there were no consequences.
III
If time travel is possible, where are the tourists from the future?
Stephen Hawking (1942–2018)
Thirty
Except there are consequences. There are always consequences. I have to believe that. Otherwise our lives are simply a mockery of existence. My name is Lauren Dinsdale. I’ve just discovered I’ve been living with a monster for over a year. He’s been raping and killing women for longer than I’ve known him. I can’t believe I’m writing this. He even killed me once. Cut me to pieces on our kitchen worktop.
I really, truly thought I loved him. I did love him. But how can you love someone who can do what he did? Someone who still does it? The trouble is nobody knows what he’s done. I’ve only just found out.
And that terrifies me.
When I first met Kee I thought he was wonderful. He came into the gallery where I used to work about fifteen months ago. I didn’t see him at first. I was busy at my computer. I was cataloguing works for our next exhibition. When I looked up he was studying our paintings, looking confused. He was gorgeous. The archetypal tall, dark and handsome character from romantic fiction. He had a bit of a belly, but it only just showed. Otherwise, he looked fit in all senses of the word.
I left what I was doing. I couldn’t wait to go down and meet him. I introduced myself, and g
ot confused over his name, but he didn’t mind. He was funny. He made me laugh straight away. When he laughed his face lit up. He had beautiful dimples in his cheeks. I could feel my heart melting with every smile. But it was his eyes. His eyes were like pools of clear deep blue water. You could dive into them and never want to surface. I couldn’t get enough of his eyes. I could have gazed into them all day.
I had to touch him. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help myself. I put my hand on his arm to guide him. I could feel the knot in my lower abdomen. I had to glance away to control my breathing.
The next two hours flew past. I didn’t even realise I’d kept him talking for so long. I loved his honesty about how little he knew. It was so refreshing and such an attractive quality in a man. And I loved that he was keen to learn about art. He seemed happy to let me tell him about it. He asked really good questions. It was exciting to think of him as someone who could share my passion. He was obviously interested in what I had to say. All the time I kept wishing I could make him just as interested in me.
I finally had to let him go. He’d bought a picture so I gave him my business card. I would have offered it to him anyway. I would have said it was in case he needed any more advice. He looked at it briefly. He smiled and put it in his wallet. I dared to hope it was because he was glad to have my number. I watched him longingly as he walked away, until he disappeared from sight. Then I rushed to the bathroom to compose myself.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and I could have cried. In my rush to get close to him I’d forgotten to take off my spectacles. I thought they were really trendy when I was at university. Now I just looked like a total nerd. But it was worse than that; I was wearing my hair up because it needed washing, and when I looked at it closely, I could see it was greasy and lifeless. And I hadn’t got round to doing my laundry. The dress I had on was one even my mother would have considered too frumpy to wear. I didn’t want to look any more. I took off my glasses and held onto the sink while my chest heaved. I was a mess. I couldn’t imagine any man being interested in me. Not in this state. Certainly not a man as gorgeous as Kee.