by M K Farrar
She snorted laughter, but it contained no humour. “Oh, yeah. Ryan. The perfect man you were always lording over the rest of us. Didn’t turn out so perfect when he went and got his twenty-one year old colleague knocked up, though.” The words were out of her mouth before she’d even realised she was going to say them. Of course, Ellen didn’t know yet. She’d never told her.
Or at least, she hadn’t known, because she certainly knew now.
The blood drained from her friend’s face. “What did you just say?”
“I’m sorry, Elles,” she said in horror, reaching out for her hand, but Ellen jerked it away. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Ryan’s got a twenty-one year old pregnant?”
“I’m sorry ...”
“Tell me the truth, Olivia,” she snapped.
Liv had never seen her like this—sharp, and hard, and direct. “I went to see him when he finished work. He told me then.”
“He told you he’d got another woman pregnant?”
“Not in so many words, but he said she wasn’t there because she had an appointment, and he didn’t deny it when I jumped to the conclusion she was pregnant. This other woman, Sierra, gave him an ultimatum, and he chose her. I’m so sorry.”
Ellen was backing away, shaking her head. “I have to go. Tell Tony I’ve come down with something, okay?”
“Of course, but are you going to be all right?” She desperately wished she was able to take her words back. That had been her fault. She’d been angry, and the last person she should ever hurt was Ellen.
Chapter Twenty-five
Present Day
THE BLOW FROM HIS BOOT caught her smack in the face, sending her flying backwards. Pain exploded through her nose. She slammed into the floor, her head smacking against the hard concrete with an impossibly loud crack that sounded as though it had happened right inside her head. The impact jolted through her bones, her teeth snapping shut, catching the side of her tongue. Fireworks burst behind her eyes, and her mind spun in a slow, dizzying circle. All she could taste was blood, thick and cloying, as it ran down the back of her throat, making her choke.
She lay there, unable to move. The pain in her face was so overwhelming, her body didn’t seem to be able to process anything else. Her vision flashed with bright white sparks, as though she’d been staring at the sun for too long, or had caught the flash of a camera. For a moment, she even forgot where she was, and her situation. All she could do was try to get her body to start processing things again, instead of being muted by the pain.
Broken. Her nose must be broken. Her entire face throbbed with the rhythm of her pulse. The blood continued to flow, spilling down her face and running down the back of her throat. She was lying on her back, and she knew she needed to move if she didn’t want to choke to death on her own blood. Had a person ever died of a broken nose before? The idea seemed ridiculous, but it wasn’t just the kick to the face that had left her stunned, it was also the impact of the back of her head against the concrete floor. Now she knew how he’d felt when she’d hit him with the bottle.
Fuck.
Realisation jolted through her, sending a fresh spurt of adrenaline through her veins. When he’d kicked her, one of his hands had been loosened from the rope. He was most likely working that hand free right now, and the second it was loose, he’d be able to pull the gag out of his mouth.
Terror coursed through her system in equal measure to the pain. Was this it? Had she lost? After everything she’d been through, this would be the end. What would he make her do? The same as the others, or would he ensure it was even worse to punish her for what she’d done to him? She’d never find out her location either—another innocent left to die.
A sob bubbled up inside her, but it came out of her mouth as a groan.
Move! A voice inside her head commanded. You’ve got to move!
This wasn’t over yet. He wasn’t free.
She couldn’t let him win, not after everything. He wouldn’t get his hand free right away. It would take time, which meant she still had time. All she needed to do was force herself to her feet and get back over to him. If she could tighten the knot before he freed himself, things would go back to the way they’d been before she’d made such a stupid mistake.
Except if he can’t write, then you’ll have no way of getting him to tell you the truth. She couldn’t risk getting that close to him again to hold up the notepad, or loosen his hand enough to hold a pen. Plus, you have a broken nose and are bleeding all over the damn place.
But the possibility of securing him again was enough to get her moving. She rolled onto her stomach and somehow managed to push herself to all fours. Her head felt like a dead weight, hanging from her neck, as though her skull had been filled with concrete. Blood dripped from her face and onto the floor below. She blinked hard, trying to clear her vision. Come on, move faster, the voice in her head urged her on, but she struggled to get her body to comply.
The grunts and laboured breathing of him trying to escape came from behind her. Like her, he must have known time was running out. He’d want to get free before she came back to her senses.
With monumental effort, she managed to get one foot flat on the floor, and then the second, so she ended up in a strange, bloodied, downward dog position. From there, her hands went to her thighs, and she straightened.
The change in position only made her face throb more, and she was forced to hold still for a moment as the room spun around her.
Her equilibrium returned, and she wiped the blood from her eyes and turned to face him.
He still hung from the hook in the ceiling. He hadn’t yet managed to free himself. His right hand was almost loose, however, the fingers bunched in together as the tight loop of rope squeezed up his hand. He saw that she was back on her feet, and his eyes widened, his struggles renewing with fresh urgency.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Her voice was a low growl, rattling with congealed blood. It didn’t sound like her at all.
The man yelled against the gag, the sound coming out muffled, and he refocused on his hand. The rope was almost off now, squeezing his thumb and finger together, making the circumference as small as possible so he could pull it out of the loop.
“No!”
She lunged for him. She needed to push the circle of rope back down his wrist and pull the knot tight around it.
But he was ready for her this time. As soon as she got close enough, he swung out his elbow, trying to catch her in the face. Loosening his hand had given him the extra movement he needed, where before his arm had been stretched too straight to give him room.
They were both suffering—both impaired by the injuries they had given each other. Reactions had slowed, and she hadn’t anticipated the movement. But she was shorter than him, and even while standing on her tiptoes, grappling to reach the rope, his elbow was still higher than her face. It skimmed the top of her head, but his bicep delivered where his elbow had failed, shoving her backwards.
She staggered back, barely managing to stay on her feet. The floor was covered in her blood, and though the blood loss seemed to have slowed for the moment, it made the polished concrete slippery. Her feet went out from under her, and she slammed back down on her hands and knees.
Lifting her head back up, ignoring the pain, she watched in horror as he gave a final muffled roar of determination and yanked his hand through the rest of the rope bonds.
His hand was free.
Chapter Twenty-six
Three Days earlier
LIV HAD NEVER FELT so alone.
It was as though she was going through the motions of her life, without actually taking part. There was a screen between her and the real world, and she didn’t know how to break through it. Ellen wasn’t speaking to her. The only person she had was Michael, and she wasn’t sure she could trust who she was with him.
It was strange being in the flat, but she didn’t know where else to go. Everywhere she looked, she saw Tammy’s belong
ings. What would happen to them? She guessed Tammy’s mum would send for them at some point, but that was probably the least of their concerns right now. The poor woman must be reeling in shock and grief. Liv wished she had some way of contacting her, to tell her how sorry she was, and ask if there was anything else she could do—box up some of her stuff, perhaps. But she didn’t want it to look as though she was trying to get rid of Tammy’s belongings. She could always look through her things and see if there was an address book or something else that might have her family’s contact details, but even with Tammy dead, it felt wrong to rifle through her private things.
At some point, she’d need to think about all the practical side of things as well, about how she no longer had a flatmate to split the rent and bills with. There was no way she could afford this place on her own—she’d go broke within a couple of months—and even if she could afford it, the atmosphere in the flat was haunted now, and she wasn’t sure that was something she’d ever get over.
Michael came over after work. She didn’t really want him there, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to leave. Everything Ellen had said was playing on her mind, and she wanted some space to process what had happened.
He came up behind her as she stirred pasta sauce on the stove. His arm wrapped around her waist, and he planted a kiss on the side of her neck. But she froze at his contact, and he pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
She didn’t want to tell him, worried he’d hate Ellen for it, and things would get even more awkward between them all when they made up, but, as always when she was around Michael, she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“You mean other than my flatmate apparently killing herself a few days ago?” Her voice was laced in bitterness.
Michael pressed his lips together and folded his arms across his chest. “You know what I’m asking, Olivia.”
“Ellen and I had a fight,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Oh? What about?”
“You. She thinks there’s something off about you, and she thinks I should put some distance between us.”
She hated the way the words came tripping off her tongue. It was as though all he needed was to fix her in that dark gaze and command her to tell him, and she’d have no choice but to do it. She’d seen him do that same thing to others—like when that man had tried to take the black cab. All it had taken was a few words from Michael, and the other man had backed right off. She didn’t know how he managed to do that.
His eyes narrowed. “She thinks you should put some distance between us? Who the hell does she think she is, trying to come between us? Just because her relationship failed doesn’t mean she has to destroy yours, too.”
“She’s not trying to destroy us.”
“Yeah, right. Misery loves company, isn’t that what they say? She just wants you all to herself. How about we turn this around on her and we make it so she’s the one who needs some distance?”
Prickles of unease crawled up Liv’s arms. “What are you saying?”
“You should stay away from Ellen. She’s bad news.”
Liv shook her head. “No, she’s my best friend. She’s my only real friend.”
“She’s no good for you. Stay away from her.”
She could feel the intensity of his gaze, how he always locked her in his dark stare and then told her exactly what he wanted her to do. She felt it now, something deep inside her pushing her to agree with what he wanted.
Behind her, the pasta sauce was starting to burn, and she reached back and turned off the stove.
“I think we should stop seeing each other.” The words came out of nowhere, her heart beating so hard it made her lightheaded and nauseated. “This isn’t working out.”
His expression grew tight, as though the muscles in his cheeks, jaw, and forehead might pop out of his skin. “What?”
His dark eyes focused on her, and she took another hitching breath.
“I don’t think we should see each other again,” she forced herself to say.
His upper lip curled, and he slowly shook his head. “No.”
“No? What do you mean, ‘no?’”
“You don’t get to finish with me.”
“Yes, yes, I do.” She had to stick to her guns, but she felt him drawing her in.
“That would be a mistake, Olivia. Is this just because of what Ellen said? You’re allowed to have two separate worlds, you know. Before this, I never told you to stay away from your friends, but they’re allowed to tell you to stay away from me? Doesn’t that make them the bad ones? The controlling ones?”
You just did tell me to stay away from Ellen, she thought but didn’t say.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “This is all too much. I just need some space.”
He stepped in, and she reared back, but he took her chin in his fingers and lifted her face to his. “Tell me you don’t mean it.”
“What?” She was frozen in his grasp.
“Tell me you don’t want us to break up.”
He’d locked her in his stare again, and she could feel the urge to give in to what he wanted. She fought to keep her tongue still and not allow him to influence what she did and thought. Because that was exactly what he was doing. She didn’t know how—if it was a kind of hypnosis or something else—but he was making her do and say things she didn’t want to.
“How do you do that?” she said, staring up at him, his face swimming through her unshed tears. She’d heard of songs that got stuck in your head referred to as ear worms. That was what Michael’s voice was like. An ear worm that drilled into her brain until she had no choice but to give in or lose her mind.
“Do what?”
“I don’t know. You suggest things and they just feel right to me, even though I was thinking the exact opposite only moments before.”
“I don’t know. Maybe you simply don’t have much conviction in your own thoughts.”
She yanked her chin out of his grip. “But I do! With anyone else, I do. But then I come up against you, and it’s like I can’t hold my own thoughts in my head. You tell me something, and I just believe it, or do it.”
“Perhaps you need to be a little stronger.”
Her chest swelled with righteous indignation. “This has nothing to do with me. This is something you’re doing!”
A small line appeared beneath his brows. “Do you really believe that, Livvy? Do you know how insane that sounds?”
A horrific thought entered her head. “Did you do something to Tammy and that other woman? Did you tell them to do something to themselves?”
“Yeah, I told them to go kill themselves, and they did it.” His tone was filled with sarcasm, but she knew it hid the truth. “Not everyone is as suggestible as you, Livvy.”
“Fuck you!”
He grabbed her arm, staring hard into her eyes. Liv squeezed her eyes shut, but she knew it wasn’t enough. The way he captured her in his gaze was only a part of what he did. It was his words that conjured the magic, that wove their way into her brain and played over and over and over until she eventually gave in to them. It was the only way to silence his voice—by doing what he wanted. Was that how the other women felt—Holly Newie and Tammy, too? Did he tell them to hurt themselves until they eventually gave in and did it?
“Maybe you’re the one who should have killed herself,” he spat.
She stared at him, unable to believe what she’d just heard. “What?”
The handsome, charismatic man she’d known had vanished. His face was contorted into a slash of anger and hatred. “You heard me. Stupid bitch like you. You’re worthless. Thinking you’re better than me. Acting all suspicious just because I happened to drop in and pick up a jacket. Are you even hearing yourself? You’re insane. Those pills you take clearly aren’t doing the job. Put an end to your misery and finish it for the good of all of us. No wonder your flatmate killed herself. She probably couldn’t stand to be around you any longer.”
; Liv snatched her hands out of his grasp, but the damage was already done. He shot her a final look of disgust before he turned and stormed from the flat.
But his words stayed with her.
Kill yourself.
Put an end to your misery.
Finish it.
Over and over they rolled in her head, until she was unable to think anything else. Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, spilling down her face. No, no, no. Was this how he did it? How he’d got rid of the other two? Had he told Tammy the same thing when he’d been here on Friday, and she’d been compelled to take her own life?
She knew thinking such a thing was crazy, yet the words continued to work their way into her head. He had a kind of power over others, and she wasn’t strong enough to defend herself against it.
He was right, and he didn’t even know about her past, about the terrible thing she’d done. She brought nothing to this world.
With her thoughts a cyclone inside her head, her feet took her to the bathroom. It would all be over then. The idea of sweet nothingness felt like bliss. Just for it all to end. All the running and the fighting. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t contemplated it before. There had been plenty of times when she’d thought it would be for the best, and now here she was again. A full circle.
Thoughts of Michael went from her mind. Instead, these were her thoughts now, her ideas. How should she do it? Tablets? She had plenty of pills, including some strong sleeping tablets. But she knew the chance of throwing them all up before they’d done the job was high.
Disposable razors caught her eye in her medicine cabinet. She could smash one open, and cut, cut, cut. Yes, that seemed right to her, somehow. It balanced things within her, calming her mind. She deserved to be punished for everything, and for that punishment to be at her own hands resonated with her.
That didn’t stop her hand from trembling as she reached into the medicine cabinet and took down the razor. It was brand new, the piece of clear plastic still covering the blades for protection. She slipped the piece of plastic off and let it drop into the sink then looked around for something to smash the head of the razor. Her toothbrush holder was a grey marble pot and should be heavy enough. She flung the toothbrush to one side—it wasn’t as though she’d need it again—and placed the disposable razor face up on the side of the sink. With the toothbrush holder in one hand, holding the end of the razor steady in the other, she brought the marble pot down hard. The plastic cracked, the vibration travelling up her arm, but it wasn’t enough. With teeth gritted, she brought the pot down again and again, slamming the marble into the plastic and metal until the plastic was no more than fragmented pieces and the slivers of razorblades lay discarded between them.