The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists

by Daniel Hurst

  At what point do I have to consider that I might be just as much of a bad guy as Tim and Jimmy?

  But what choice do I have now? I’m so deep in this thing that my only way out is to keep fighting like I have always done or drown, dragging my daughter down with me. Unlike me, she hasn’t brought any of this on herself. She didn’t invite Tim into our home. She didn’t decide to bury Rupert instead of calling the police. And she wasn’t the one who agreed to go along with Jimmy’s latest demand.

  I was. It’s all on me. And I’m certain that I will pay for all of this one day, whether it’s in this life or the next.

  With thoughts like that, it’s easy to see why I have a craving for more alcohol.

  Considering that my dark thoughts have now turned to the idea of eternal damnation, there is no way I can hope to fall asleep tonight unless I drink myself into a state of unconsciousness. Waking up with a hangover tomorrow might not be the best way of preparing for the meeting with Jimmy in the evening, but I can’t think that far ahead right now. Every hour is a momentous hurdle of mental torment to overcome, and it’s reached the point where I just need to do whatever it takes to make it to the next day without having some kind of a breakdown.

  ‘Do you want anything from the shop?’ I call up the stairs, but Chloe replies with a no, so I head for the door, eager to get on my way.

  Being on the move is one of the few things that I have found help keep my scary thoughts at bay, besides white wine, of course, so I’m glad of the chance for a walk. As I head down the street in the direction of the corner shop, I wonder if killing Jimmy will be the end of the drama in my life or if there will be even more problems waiting for me on the horizon. I’d have thought that what happened with Tim was enough for one lifetime, but I’ve been proven wrong, and even now, I’m not convinced that this will be the end of it.

  People like to say that life is fun because it’s unpredictable, but that’s almost laughable in my case. It’s that unpredictability that has allowed so much guilt, regret and fear to seep into my daily existence, and I’m now at the point where I feel like nothing could shock me.

  Yes, life is unpredictable.

  But that doesn’t make it fun.

  It just makes it more likely to be cut short at any moment.

  34

  CHLOE

  I’ve spent most of today waiting to see if Jimmy is going to issue me with a request for what to wear for our ‘encounter’ this evening, but so far, there has been nothing.

  No message on my phone. No stipulations about the colour of the dress or choice of footwear. No hint at the kind of thing that might excite him, like with the red dress and heels that he made Mum put on for their meeting. Instead, he seems to be leaving it up to me to decide what I will be wearing when he arrives at the house in a few hours’ time, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

  I’m already nervous enough as it is for tonight without having to figure out what I am going to wear as well. Of course, I’m not planning on having sex with him like Mum was, so I don’t really need to appear alluring when he sees me, but I suppose I have to make it at least look like I am going to comply with his demands. He will surely get suspicious if he walks into this house and I am wearing a pair of pyjamas and an old sweater.

  I need to look sexy without making myself feel any more uncomfortable than I already do about this.

  Opening up my wardrobe doors, I cast my eyes over the various garments inside, internally debating which of the many dresses to go with for tonight’s performance. I want something that looks good but is also practical so that rules out anything that’s too tight as it will restrict my movement in case I need to run. That also rules out all the pairs of high heels at the bottom of the wardrobe. I could hardly make a break for the staircase in them if Jimmy survives the stabbing, grabs the knife from Mum and comes after me.

  I need to be light on my feet.

  Then I have an idea.

  I will wear my silk nightie, the one that I begged Mum to buy for me last Christmas even though she said that it was a little too skimpy. But it fits the bill of being sexy enough to distract Jimmy without causing me to lose any of my movement while wearing it. And if I do opt for the nightie, I can get away with wearing nothing on my feet, meaning I will be able to move quicker across the carpet should the need arise.

  It’s perfect, so I take it out from where it hangs in the wardrobe and lay it on my bed, pleased that it is one less thing to worry about now.

  After checking my phone again to make sure that Jimmy hasn’t suddenly sent through a last-minute costume request to scupper my plans, I head over to my dresser table, where I take a seat and prepare to make myself look beautiful. I don’t want to overdo it with the makeup, but I also don’t want to make Jimmy regret his decision to come here and be physical with me.

  I want him to be so enamoured with the sight of me that he doesn’t even think for one minute that I will be the last thing he ever sees.

  I have to admit that Mum’s plan is a bolshy one. Killing our blackmailer is certainly an effective way of dealing with the problem that he poses us, which is why I had been happy enough to agree to the idea when she first presented it. But I’m glad that she allowed me to make a slight alteration to the plan and get Jimmy up to my room before she goes for him with the knife because I think this way gives us a better chance of being successful.

  As I apply foundation to my cheeks, I think about what would happen if Mum hadn’t decided that we needed to kill Jimmy. Would she have insisted that I go through with sleeping with him in order to keep our secret safe? Possibly. But would I have been able to do it?

  I’m glad I don’t have to find out.

  I have never slept with a guy before, and because I have never brought one home or mentioned the existence of a boyfriend, Mum must also know that I am still inexperienced when it comes to what Jimmy wants me to do. Maybe that’s why she jumped to the conclusion that he had to be killed. However it has happened, the plan has been made, and the clock is counting down on Jimmy’s time on Earth. He has no idea though, and most likely presumes that he will be able to keep on taking whatever he desires from us for as long as he wants. But that is not the case.

  Jimmy will be dead by the time the sun has set tomorrow, and I cannot wait to see it.

  I also can’t wait to get out of here and go to university. I think there’s been enough death and destruction in one place to last a lifetime. What I need is a fresh start, away from here, where I can put the memory of Rupert and Jimmy to bed and move on. But I do worry about what will happen to Mum when I am gone. How will she handle being alone in this house? How will she cope with her dark thoughts without another person to confide in?

  How will she resist the temptation to drink herself into oblivion without me to interrupt her boozy sessions in the kitchen every night?

  I know she was up late yesterday drinking downstairs again. I heard the sound of a glass smash just after eleven, and when I went down to check that everything was okay, I found her on the floor, cleaning up the mess with tears streaming down her face. She tried to cover up her emotions when she saw me, but it had been too late for that and I had insisted she leave the broken glass and join me on the sofa in the living room. It had been there where she had really let her emotions pour out, sobbing into my shoulder as she called herself the worst mum in the world, while saying that she feared she had ruined my life with her actions.

  While it had been a surprise to see her in such a vulnerable state, I had done my best to comfort her while telling her that she had been the best parent I could have had. I told her that none of what happened was her fault and that I didn’t love her any less for what I had seen her do for me over the last week with Rupert and Jimmy. It took a while, but she eventually stopped crying, so my words must have made her feel a little better. Then she blamed her outpouring of emotion on all the wine she had drunk, which, to be fair, was rather a lot, before I told her to get her
self upstairs to bed while I cleaned up in the kitchen.

  It might have seemed a strange role-reversal between mother and child for me to be the one putting her to bed after having too much to drink, but then I guess it’s been a while since we had an entirely normal relationship. I doubt there are many mums and daughters who hide bodies and plan to kill again out there in the world.

  If there are, then the planet is even more fucked up than I thought it was.

  Mum apologised to me this morning for her behaviour the night before and even vowed to give up drinking from now on, but I told her that she didn’t need to make any promises to me. I will always love her no matter what, and I think she sees that, which must be of great comfort to her. Her biggest fear, besides the police coming through the front door with handcuffs for her, must be that her actions are going to have a detrimental effect on how I become as I grow older, forever changing the woman that I was destined to be. She probably fears that me seeing my parent deal with a dead body so effectively is setting me up to want to be able to do the same when I am her age.

  Isn’t that what all mothers worry about? Being a good role model for their child?

  But Mum doesn’t have to worry about that. As role models go, I couldn’t have wished for a better one. She’s perfect, and I’m so lucky to have her.

  I’m the luckiest daughter in the world.

  35

  HEATHER

  Jimmy is due at our house in two minutes.

  In anticipation of the arrival of our guest, Chloe and I have made the necessary preparations. She has made herself presentable for the man who desires her. And I have got a small kitchen knife safely hidden away to stab him with.

  With a bit of luck, Jimmy will get here on time in two minutes, and he will be dead in five.

  ‘Are you nervous?’

  Chloe’s question is asked in a quiet voice, almost as if she is afraid that Jimmy might be outside the house right now listening in on us. But I know he isn’t because I’m standing by the window with a good view out onto the street.

  He’s nowhere to be seen.

  Yet.

  ‘Yeah,’ I reply, deciding that there is no point with false bravado. ‘You?’

  Chloe nods.

  ‘But it’s going to be okay,’ I remind her, and she nods again, but the makeup on her face doesn’t disguise how anxious she looks as she waits for the knock on the door.

  It was quite the surprise when Chloe came out of her bedroom earlier, and I saw how she planned to look for Jimmy’s visit. It wasn’t so much the amount of work she had put into her hair and makeup that did it, rather the fact she was wearing a silk nightdress which I remember buying for her a while ago even though it bordered on inappropriate. There’s no doubt the effort she has put into her appearance today makes her look much older than her age, and I’m sure that was the plan, but it didn’t do much to make me feel better about things.

  There’s no doubt about it; my daughter is growing up. But it’s not just physically. She has demonstrated to me a level of maturity over this last week that I hadn’t seen from her before. There has been the way she has handled the aftermath of Rupert’s tragic death, getting on with life so as not to raise any suspicions. There has been the way she sat and spoke with me after we came home from the hotel, sitting sipping wine and having a grown-up discussion about what I had done with Jimmy to keep us safe. And there had been last night, when she had come downstairs and found me a mess on the kitchen floor, crying as I attempted to clear up the broken pieces of my wine glass after I had allowed the events of the last seven days to get the better of me. Not only had she sat with me and calmed me down, but she had also helped me get to bed before cleaning up in the kitchen, which was not what a daughter should have to do for their parent but was what I needed at the time.

  As my daughter stands in front of me now, looking very much like a woman, I also know she has the maturity to match the looks. I’ve seen another side to her recently, and while I wish it had come under different circumstances, it has still been a pleasure to see it. Maybe, just maybe, she’s not going to be as screwed up after this as I know I am.

  But it’s not over yet.

  ‘He’s here,’ I say, spotting the figure coming down the street before quickly moving away from the window so he doesn’t see that I was watching out for him. ‘Okay, let’s run through this one more time.’

  I turn to Chloe who is standing at the bottom of the staircase, and notice her posture stiffen as she prepares for her performance to begin.

  ‘I’ll answer the door to him and allow him in. You stay there. Don’t smile, but don’t look too down about things either. Just try to give nothing away with your expression. I’ll tell him that this has to be the last thing he asks of us. He’ll surely agree, of course, before wanting to get on with things. Then I’ll tell him to treat you with respect before telling you to call out to me if there are any problems. Okay?’

  Chloe nods again, and I can’t remember the last time I ever heard her this quiet. That tells me she isn’t just nervous. She is terrified. It also makes me think that we should change the plan at the last minute and just stab Jimmy as soon as he walks through the door.

  ‘We don’t have to let it get as far as your bedroom,’ I say as I go over to her and take her hand. ‘If you’re having second thoughts, I’ll just get this over with down here.’

  ‘No, it’s okay,’ she replies, taking a deep breath. ‘I can do it.’

  I give her a quick hug before the loud knock at the door.

  We both turn and look at the silhouette of the man standing on the other side of the frosted glass.

  This is it. The moment of truth.

  The moment when we get our lives back.

  Making one final check on the knife that is tucked into the waistband of my jogging bottoms, I walk towards the door and reach for the latch.

  After a quick glance back at Chloe, she gives me the nod to confirm that she’s ready.

  I unhook the latch and open the door.

  ‘Evening,’ Jimmy says, his beady eyes peering at me from the doorstep, but I say nothing as I step aside and let him in.

  As I close the door, I can’t fail to notice the large grin break out on his face when he catches sight of Chloe waiting for him by the stairs.

  ‘Oh my, don’t you look pretty tonight,’ he says, and I can feel my heart rate already creeping up as I lock the door and turn back around to face him.

  Chloe says nothing, as instructed, nor does she give anything away with her expression, but Jimmy doesn’t seem to mind as he takes another couple of steps closer towards her, almost as if he is inspecting a product before he buys.

  ‘Before this happens,’ I begin, stepping in between him and my daughter and fixing him with an icy glare. ‘I need to know that this is the last time we have to do anything for you. There can be no more demands after tonight. No more blackmailing. After this, we’re even, alright?’

  Jimmy’s eyes still linger on Chloe, and it’s taking all my restraint not to slap him for looking at her like he is, but he eventually breaks off from her and fixes his gaze on me.

  ‘You’re the boss,’ he says, with a sarcastic shrug.

  ‘I mean it,’ I tell him. ‘I want you to promise this is the last thing you ask for.’

  ‘I cross my heart and hope to die,’ he replies, which is more than apt for the circumstances, although I make sure not to tell him that.

  ‘Okay then,’ I say, doing my best acting job. ‘In a minute, you can go upstairs with my daughter. But first, I want you to know that if you lay one finger on her in an aggressive or violent manner, then the deal is off. If I hear her scream or cry out for me, I will come into the bedroom, and your fun will be over. Do you understand?’

  Jimmy looks like he is starting to get annoyed at the way I am speaking to him, but then Chloe starts to play with her hair nervously, and that seems to distract him enough into calming down.

  ‘I’m not going to
hurt her,’ he tells me, his eyes alive with her vision. ‘She’s far too pretty for that.’

  I grit my teeth and think about how all I want to do right now is remove the knife and drive it into his stomach, but I tell myself to wait just a couple more minutes. Right now, there is still the chance that he could stop me from attacking him and overpower me before using the knife against Chloe and I. But it won’t be long until he is so distracted with my daughter that he will have no chance of seeing me coming until it is too late.

  As I watch him follow my daughter upstairs, that time can’t come soon enough.

  36

  CHLOE

  I can almost feel Jimmy’s eyes burning into me from behind as I reach the top of the stairs and head for my bedroom doorway.

  I know I have to keep calm as he follows me into my room, but that’s not so easy to do when he could reach out and grab me at any second. Fortunately, he heeds my mother’s warning from a moment ago and doesn’t lay a finger on me in any way that I could perceive to be alarming or dangerous. But as I watch him close the bedroom door behind himself, I know that I’m not going to be able to stop him invading my space any longer.

  He is here for one thing, and he isn’t going to stop until he gets it.

  ‘I like your room,’ he says, looking around at my bed, my wardrobe and dresser table. ‘I was going to suggest a room at the Royal Tree like I did with your mother, but this is actually quite nice.’

  I say nothing as I stand awkwardly by the bed, almost waiting for him to make the first move.

  ‘I imagine you feel more comfortable here than in a strange hotel room, don’t you?’ Jimmy asks, walking towards me.

  I nod my head as he smiles before brushing a strand of my hair from my face and tucking it behind my ear.

  ‘How about we take a seat on the bed?’ he suggests, nodding at my duvet just beside us.