by Raven Taylor
“What?”
“You have scratches all around your throat!”
When I returned to the hotel I discovered that the scratches were not only on my throat but also down the backs of my legs and my chest. They were long and angry looking as if I had walked naked through a bramble patch. When I went to bed I was feeling seriously disturbed and that ghostly voice echoed round and round in my head ‘dark one…dark one…’
CHAPTER TEN
My face was once again in the papers at breakfast that morning in the hotel. The sensationalised stories explained in great depth my escape and the two 'suspicious' deaths that had I left in my wake. They also reported on the fact that I was believed to be in Edinburgh. On seeing this I hastily retreated to my room to consider what to do next. This was going to make things difficult. I was sure to be recognised soon given the media coverage and my picture being everywhere. I was afraid. If I was found I might not be here long enough to find her, if I went back to hospital I might never learn who I was. I couldn't stay in the hotel. There was too many people. If only I had someone I could stay with, someone who I could rely on like Ransley to keep me safe but I knew nobody that I could go to, I was alone. I just needed to stay out of sight until I had some answers for them. I would happily turn myself over to the authorities once I could tell them who I was, what had happened to me and why I had been in the woods that night.
I did not leave my room all day. I was too afraid of being recognised. I rose instead, like a vampire, once it was dark and the streets where not so busy with tourists. Funny, I felt more at home in the dark quite streets under the orange lights than I had during the day. It felt more natural, as if I had always slept through the day and walked the streets at night.
I had not bothered to check out of the hotel and had stole down the back staircase with my bag having absolutely no idea where I would go. Out on the Royal Mile I felt slightly more at ease as I passed the shuttered windows of the shops and drifted instinctively in the direction of the Rock Bars on Niddry street.
I was just about to turn and leave the Royal Mile when I saw a figure I recognised coming towards me. I could hardly believe that what I was seeing was true. Caroline, it was you! My heart skipped a beat as I stopped walking and stared with longing at your soft round face, your fringe falling over her brow, the slightly melancholy expression that haunted you. A smile broke out on my lips as I waited for you to draw nearer. You cannot imagine just how glad I was to see you. There was a man walking by your side, a short man with bulky arms left bare despite the cold.
"Caroline!" I cried happily and as you looked up I noticed that you had a black eye.
You glanced at me and a nervous, frightened look crossed your face.
"Caroline, it's alright, it's me, it's Winter."
The bulky man at your side grabbed your arm and spoke into your ear in a low, threatening way as he pulled you across the street. I watched with disappointment as you continued to head down the Royal Mile without a backward glance. Did you really believe what you had read about me in the papers? Could this kind lady really be turning her back on me when I needed her help? I watched you leave and a heavy sorrow settled me over me, forcing my shoulders to slump and my head to hang low.
In the dim vaults of Nicol Edwards it was easy for me to conceal myself in a dark corner so I could throw back measure after measure of Liquor until the pain began to numb and my head began to feel clouded. I was still there at closing time when the stragglers where asked to finish up and leave and I staggered unsteadily out into the street once again. It was over, my head insisted, you had seen me and you were afraid of me. I was certain you would have already reported me to the police, they would be on their way to retrieve me. It was all over.
I began to drift once again and after stopping in an off license to buy a bottle of Jack I followed my instincts and ended up back in the Kirk Yard, sat against a stone monument, drinking myself into a stupor.
"I've been here before," I said to myself in a slurred voice, "I've sat here and drank just like this."
"You're a disgrace, sat there like an old wino when there's things to be done."
"And what do you care?" I shouted at the shadow that was hovering under the twisted tree a few feet away, "I hate you. I don't know who you are or what the hell you did to me to make me this way but I know that I hate you."
"You wanted this, you did this to yourself."
I threw the now empty bottle in the direction of the voice and it flew through thin air hitting nothing but the tree where it shattered and sent shards of glass exploding across the grass.
It began to rain and I hung my head and wept as the stormy sky lashed its fury down on me until I was so cold and exhausted that I curled up on my side and hugged my knees to my chest. I was a freak. Wherever I went death followed. Nobody could ever have loved me. Perhaps that was why I had been kept from the world, so I could not taint anyone with this curse. It was then that they came.
At first I heard only voices and the sound made me sit up. The voices were male, it sounded like there was maybe four or five of them, and their words seemed slurred as they approached. I could just make them out to my left. Four hulking shapes lumbering among the stones. I sensed danger. There did not appear to be anything friendly about these strangers.
Cautiously I rose to my feet and silenced my weeping but they had spotted me. I saw one of them pointing.
“Hey, you!” called one of them and he quickened his pace.
The owner of the voice neared and I could make out his features now. His friends trailed behind him. He did not look like the kind of person I wanted to run into right now but I had no energy left and found myself unable to move, I was rooted to the spot. The ring leader of the small drunken mob was large and wearing a baseball cap. He was shabbily dressed in a worn tracksuit and his face was heavily scarred. Well what did I expect from people who came to graveyards with a carry out?
“Well look at this,” said the scar faced man as he stopped a couple of feet away from me, “Looks like one of the corpses dug his way out.”
The other three, all with that same rough appearance, sniggered.
“Look, I’m obviously in your way, I was just leaving.” I said and I made as if to turn.
“Why the big hurry?” slurred one of the men.
“A bit unsociable isn’t it?” added another.
“Do little dead guys not like to associate with people like us?” asked the third.
“I just have somewhere I need to be.” I lied, trying to keep my voice calm.
“The rain’s going off,” said the scarred one, holding his palms up to the sky, “Why don’t you have a drink with us?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“I said, why don’t you stay and have a drink with us?” he growled and before I could even see it coming he had produced a half empty bottle of cheap tonic wine from the blue polythene bag and smashed me in the side on the head with it.
Before any of it could register I was down on my knees in the mud with blood running thickly down the side of my face and a sharp pain in my head. All around they had closed in. I could see their dirty trainers close by and I could hear their drunken laughter. Highly entertaining this kind of thing was to them. A brutal sport based on suffering. Fox hunting for the uncivilised, lower classes. I raised my fingers to my head and they came away crimson. Well, they had had their fun, and didn’t I deserve to suffer anyway?
I tried to stand up but found I could not. I was dizzy and I swayed almost as much as the drunks that where attacking me.
“That’ll teach you to be so anti social you fucking freak.” I heard one of them say.
That really got to me. Perhaps because it was so close to the bone and I knew it was all too true in ways they could not even imagine.
"Must you always be so feeble Winter? I do not want to stand by and watch them kill you! For once stand up for yourself!" there was the voice again, offering useless guidance.
“Ok, you had your fun, you won.” I muttered and began to walk away.
“Hey, hey, not so fast pal,” someone had grabbed me by the shoulders and was pulling me back, “I thought we taught you not to be anti social, looks like the message isn’t getting through.”
I groaned as I was pushed roughly forward so that I fell face down onto the slab. I turned over only to be punched in the face by the ring leader. Seeing my only hope was to fight I kicked out blindly and managed to catch him hard in the stomach. For a few moments he doubled over and then a look of rage passed across his face. Of course if I’d have known he was going to pull a knife on me I probably never would have kicked him. I was now in deep trouble as I saw the flash of the blade clenched in his huge fist.
This is where I die, I thought to myself and I closed my eyes, "Kill me, kill me why don't you?" I pleaded and I stopped trying to fight.
"You want to die do you?"
"Yes, I want to die, just please put me put of my misery."
The anger seemed to dissolve and the thug folded the knife and slipped it back into his pocket.
"Come on guys, let's go." he said, spitting on the ground and the small crowd followed him away towards the gate leaving me broken and bleeding on the slab of some poor long dead unfortunate.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"Winter?" I could hardly even lift my head at the sound of the voice, the cold had rendered my body useless, the assault had draw out every last drop of strength and my soul felt faded and distant.
"Oh my God, is that really you?" the voice was shocked and full of concern but still I could not respond.
Oh please just let me die, I silently prayed, I can't take any more of this torture.
I did not want to look up and see that face. I knew that voice. It carried the same tone of worry and concern with an identical undertone of compassion that it had on that night when you had first found me. Stiffly, I pulled my knees up and tried to bury my head further. I did not want you to see me like this, I had no desire to burden you again.
"Winter it's me, it's Caroline." I could feel your hands on my shoulders now as you tried to prize me out of the tight ball I had curled myself into. My feeble, battered body was not able resist and soon you were holding me in your arms and I had to surrender. It felt good to be held, to feel your hands on my face brushing my hair back.
"What happened to you?" you asked, "I'm so sorry I walked by you last night, I've been feeling terrible, so I came to look for you this morning."
"You should stay away. I'm evil, a bringer of death. I know when people are going to die. I see it written on them like expiry dates on cans on food."
"Winter, don't be silly, you aren't well."
"You must have seen the papers." I pushed.
"Yes Winter, but no body with any sense could blame you for those two people who died."
I looked into your eyes, "Why did you not come to see me? Why did you leave me there alone when you said you were going to help me?"
"I wanted to come, I really did, I've thought about you so much."
"Then why didn't you?"
"Now's not the time," you said, "We need to get you out of here."
Somehow, with your help, I managed to sit up. There was dried blood all over the slab and on my hands. My head pounded and my body ached.
"I can't go to the hospital," I said, "They'll send me back. Can I come to stay with you?"
Your eyes looked pained as you took a deep breath and said, "Winter, that won't be possible."
"Why?" I asked miserably.
"Because my husband would not stand for it." you said reluctantly.
Your husband? The one you had left because of his violent and controlling ways? The black eye suddenly made sense.
"We decided to have another go at things. He's been in counselling, he's changed."
"I can see that." I gave a meaningful nod to your black eye and for a moment I was so consumed by anger towards this man I had never met that I forgot my own pain.
"It isn't too bad," you said defensively, "there's bound to be a few slip ups while he's still adjusting to having me back."
I was disgusted, "Caroline, you're better than that and you know it."
"Am I though?"
How could I make you see?
"Come on, he's at work, I'll get you back to the flat and get you cleaned up before he comes back, then we'll have to figure out what to do next."
The flat on Leith walk was comfortable, tidy and homely, a world away from the hovel in which Ransley had dwelled. When I thought of Ransley it made me sad and I shook my head to clear away the images of her sitting on the tracks, her arms raised above her head just moments before her death.
“Are you alright?” I was standing in the hall, gazing around the small open flat and suddenly I knew that I wasn’t.
“No,” I said, and I began to cry.
You took my hand and led me through to the living room where you sat by me on the couch, patting me on the shoulder until at last my sobs began to die down.
“I’m sorry,” I sniffed.
“Don’t be.”
“I was just thinking of my friend, the one who died. We met in the care home and we didn’t know each other long but she helped me so much. She had a history of suicide attempts. She threw herself onto the subway tracks. I should have stopped her.”
“Oh Winter.” this time she hugged me and that brought on the tears again.
At last I stopped and I felt quite stupid as I dried my eyes. Weak and pathetic, wasn’t that what I always was, wasn’t that what he said I was?
“I bet you feel better now don’t you?”
I nodded.
“I'll show you to the bathroom and you can get cleaned up then I’ll make us a cup of tea, how do you take it?” you realised what you'd said and looked at me. There was a quick pause and then we both started laughing.
I don't know how long I spent in the bathroom cleaning the blood from myself but despite the sting the hot water brought to my injured skin I felt a lot better just to be clean and warm.
I was still in the bathroom when I heard a commotion coming from the hall.
"Got guests have we then?" the voice was gruff and menacingly heavy with threat.
"Gordon, what are you doing back? I thought you were at work."
Panic gripped my heart as I hastily pulled on clean clothes. Your tormentor had returned. Who knew what he would do to you now that he had found me here. I hesitated, one hand on the bathroom door and listened, it had all gone suddenly quiet. Then there was a heavy sound like someone falling over and I heard you cry out in pain.
Without considering I could be facing my second beating in 24 hours I rushed out of the bedroom and down the hall. I saw you lying on the floor sobbing next to the overturned coffee table. The pot of tea and everything that went along with it where spilled over the carpet and one of the cups had smashed. Your husband was standing over you with his back to me, I could tell he was breathing heavily by the way his shoulders rose and fell. This was the same man who had pulled you across the street last night. I was surprised by how small he was. I had expected a large bear of a man but although he was broad across the shoulders and his neck was wide like a bulls he was short and his legs were thin. He reminded me somehow of Winston. Winston who we had abandoned at the port and who could be anywhere by now.
He whirled around suddenly and when he saw me his face turned bright red with rage and his sagging jowls quivered. He really did look like a bulldog.
"So this is what goes on when I'm out working," he thundered, "For Christ sake woman your old enough to be his mother!"
I expected him to fly across the room and launch his fists at me but he didn't, he turned instead and kicked yo
u so that you doubled up and whimpered. It dawned on me that this man was a coward, he was not capable of hitting another man, only of hitting his poor, down trodden wife.
"I think you should leave before the police get here," I bluffed.
"Police? Pfft. I'd like to see the police so I can tell them about the intruder in my house."
"I was invited here," I corrected him, "And not for the reasons you might think. You can't see it but Caroline is a kind, caring woman who is still happy to help people in need despite the hell you've put her through. Well I won't let it happen anymore. You should leave."
Why was it he looked suddenly afraid? Neither my words nor my demeanour was powerful to inspire such a look of horror.
"It's you isn't it?" he questioned, "The one from the newspaper, the freak they found wandering in the road."
"The one I found." behind him you got up.
He had been too preoccupied that he didn't see you lift the candlestick from the window sill and by time he noticed it was too late. You swung it at him and knocked him out cold.
"I won't stand for it anymore," you said, "Winter's right, I am better than this."