by J. A. Baker
She mumbles under her breath, her gaze flicking back and forth between the list of recent messages on the phone, and Chloe who is lying motionless, tears streaming down her face. She wonders if putting something over her mouth would be advantageous. Chloe screaming for help could bring this whole thing to a halt. Having got this far, the thought of it makes her concerned enough to consider rummaging through drawers to try and find a piece of fabric long enough to serve as a makeshift gag. Anything that will stop Chloe from screaming for help once Leah sends this message to Jacob. Which she will.
She stands up, opens a chest of drawers and pulls out a tangle of fabric.
Funny how being attacked and tied up hasn’t been enough to really send her into a frenzy, yet the thought of sending a final goodbye message to somebody she thinks of as the love of her life is enough to tip her over the edge. Leah supposes that everybody has their weaknesses, their snapping point, and losing Jacob is Chloe’s. Well, welcome to the real world, she wants to say to her. Welcome to my life.
‘Ah,’ she says huskily, pulling out a pink silk belt. ‘Bingo.’
Leaning over Chloe’s face, Leah lays down the silk belt on the bed and picks up the stone lion, brandishing it above her head. ‘Just a reminder as to who is the boss around here.’ She places a finger to her own lips and makes a shushing sound, her expression threatening, eyes narrowing to tiny dark slits. ‘We don’t want any unexpected screaming now, do we? This is a quiet neighbourhood. We wouldn’t anybody hearing you and getting upset.’
Leah moves farther forward, close to Chloe’s face. She wants to see the fear in her eyes. She wants to see Chloe squirm, feel the heat of her terror. Leah thinks she has earned this. She deserves it. Her body is next to Chloe’s, their skin almost touching. Her hand hovers over Chloe’s hair. She inhales, savouring the moment. She can almost taste the scent of her, can sense her distress and helplessness. The room is thick with it, the air sharp with the sour tang of her dread.
And then it happens. The sharp stab of pain takes her by surprise, travelling up the soft flesh of her inner arm, increasing by the second, intensifying and bringing tears to her eyes. She lets out a yelp, tries to move away and sees Chloe’s face, her frenzied expression, the glint in her eyes, her manically wide mouth and a sliver of pink gum visible as she hangs on to Leah’s flesh with her teeth, grinding and clamping, refusing to let go.
‘God almighty! What the hell are you doing?’ Leah lets out a roar of protest and places her hand over Chloe’s face, pushing and gouging at her eyes, at her nose, at anything she can grab hold of, trying to release the vice like grip that Chloe has on her arm. ‘You stupid bitch. You stupid fucking bitch!’
Confused and in pain, she drops the lion, cursing as she attempts to reach it with her free hand, bending and groping while Chloe clamps onto her arm. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Chloe is restrained, immobile. She’s the prisoner here, not the aggressor. It’s she, Leah who purportedly has the advantage. She’s the one with all the power and yet here she is in pain and unable to shake off this demon of a woman who is tearing at the flesh on her arm with such ferocity that Leah can barely breathe.
Using her fingers to defend herself, Leah holds them down on Chloe’s eyes, pushing and gouging, pressing and scratching; using all of her strength, doing anything she can to shake her off and release the grip that Chloe has on her skin. Chloe responds by throwing her body around, twisting her head and champing at Leah’s flesh with teeth that feel as sharp as razors.
Slippery with perspiration and weakened by the pain, Leah begins to lose impetus. She wonders if there is blood and if so how much she is losing. With one final thrust, a sudden surge of energy she didn’t know she possessed, she pushes at Chloe’s face, forcing her palm down over her nose, her eyes, tearing at skin, nipping, clawing, scratching, doing all she can to make Chloe stop, until eventually, the tugging on her arm ceases.
Blood is smeared over the bed sheets, a ruby stain that slowly bleeds into the cotton, tiny veins of scarlet, growing and blooming, curling like tendrils, red and pink strands slowly unfurling like the first flowers of spring. Leah stares down at the stain, keeping her eyes diverted away from her arm, too wary, too frightened to look at the gaping wound that will infuriate and sicken her.
She turns her attention instead to Chloe and suppresses a low gasp. Her nemesis is lying on the bed, a vision from a horror film, her eyes wide, glinting and unseeing. Chloe is aware she is being watched. Her expression is one of knowledge, and growing power. Her mouth turns up at the corners, her skin stretches over her prominent cheekbones, over her slim face. Slowly, so very slowly, she turns her head to the side, opens her bloodied mouth and spits out strings of saliva. Globules of viscous fluid streaked with pink hang from her lips, thin strands of spittle flecked with Leah’s blood and tiny pieces of her flesh. Trying to stop herself from retching, Leah moves away from the bed holding her arm, still unable to look at the damage.
‘You’re a psychopath,’ is all she can say. Leah’s voice carries over the room, piercing the sudden silence that has settled over them. Everything feels dulled. Time has slowed down. They’re suspended in a moment, unable to break free. The throbbing ache in her arm has skewed her perception, stopped her from reacting properly. She needs a couple of seconds to right herself, to make sure she stays on top of this situation, not buckle and lose her grip.
Chloe doesn’t reply. She continues spitting and drooling, her mouth hanging open, pink saliva dripping from her slack jaw.
‘If you think this is going to stop me, then you’re sadly mistaken,’ Leah says with a drawl in her tone. ‘This is just a blip. I’m going to make sure you pay for this, you stupid cow.’ The final words are spat out, laden with loathing. Because she does truly loathe her. She has never hated anyone as much in her entire life.
Leah grips onto her damaged arm, feeling for the slickness of blood and is surprised to find some but not the amount she was expecting. She had prepared herself for a deep open wound in need of stitches. A mirror opposite tells her all she needs to know – Chloe has inflicted damage but it’s minimal. She’ll cope. It’s painful but nothing that requires hospital treatment. It’s not quite a graze but neither is it bad enough to slow her down. A small fold of skin shifts beneath her fingers as she massages at her own flesh. It hurts like hell, making her eyes sting and burn, but she’s not about to bleed to death. Far from it.
The belt has slipped down onto the floor and is sitting next to her feet. She bends to pick it up, watching as Chloe begins to buck about again, writhing and bending feverishly. Soon she will exhaust herself. She’ll get thirsty, a headache will set in. She will become sapped of energy. Then she’ll stop. She will realise that her efforts are futile and will lower her resistance, conserve her strength, be her biddable self once more. The urge to whip the belt over Chloe’s face consumes her. She deserves that much.
Leah kneels on the bed, watching Chloe’s every move. A vindictive sneer sets in on Chloe’s blotchy face. Gone is the terror, replaced now by a swathe of anger that is evident in her body language, in the way she thrashes about. In the way she meets Leah’s gaze, refusing to look away.
‘Don’t you dare touch me. Come near me with that thing and I’ll scream the place down.’ Her voice has a richness to it, a confident inflection that almost makes Leah laugh out loud. Poor little Chloe has finally grown teeth. No more the quivering wreck, no more the blubbering terrified victim. She is starting to fight back.
Leah takes a couple of steps away from the bed, holding the belt between both hands, pulling it taut and snapping it with a twang. ‘Really?’ She bends down, picks up the stone lion and curls her fingers around it, appreciative of its cool surface, of its smoothness against her hot palm, of the reassuring heft of it. ‘How will you scream when you’re unconscious? Or maybe you’d forgotten about this little beauty.’
Chloe sees the lion, her eyes twitching and blinking, her mouth trembling. Leah watches, delighting in
the moment, knowing Chloe will have to relent. Knowing that she, Leah, will win this particular little game. This is what she enjoys – controlling Chloe, having the upper hand. Her life so far has been a series of monumental fuck-ups. Never before has she felt the ease of being the victor, the effortless luxury of knowing, just knowing, that everything will go her way. Well, now it’s here. Her time has come. And she is going to make the most of it.
Grasping at the opportunity, Leah takes the belt and drapes it over Chloe’s mouth, pulling it tight around the back of her head and knotting it, making sure she is silenced before any screams or noises can filter through. She can’t have that – being caught out, having neighbours calling around, hearing the telltale sound of sirens outside that would indicate that her time is up, that her lovely little game is over before it’s barely begun.
‘There you go,’ Leah whispers into her ear, her lips brushing against Chloe’s hot wet skin, ‘made the decision for you. We’re all sorted now, aren’t we?’
She watches, emotionless, mildly curious, as tears bubble up and spill out of Chloe’s eyes. Leah shakes her head, her voice suddenly easy and gentle. ‘You really are a strange one, aren’t you? Terrified and weepy one second, angry and violent the next, and now you’re back to being a big cry baby again. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was all one big act, a charade to get me to set you free.’ Leah places a finger on Chloe’s arm, trailing it up and down, up and down, then up over the papery skin of her neck before resting it eventually on Chloe’s sodden cheek. ‘Well, well, well. What a thoroughly wicked little creature you are, Chloe. Such a naughty person. Who would have thought it, eh? Little old Chloe with her big innocent Bambi eyes and baby soft skin. You’re not the person everyone thinks you are, are you? Not at all. You’re wicked through and through.’
Scrolling through Chloe’s phone proved less stimulating and interesting than Leah had hoped. Sending a message to Jacob and watching Chloe struggle and writhe about trying to stop her, lightened her spirits somewhat. It took just seconds to destroy Chloe’s little world. The biggest disappointment is the fact that up to now, Jacob hasn’t replied.
She stares down at the message, willing an answer to appear, willing the love of her life to reply.
Jacob,
This message has been a long time coming. It may come as a bit of a shock to you but you need to know that I’ve found somebody else. He is everything to me and so I’ve decided to move my things out of your flat.
Please don’t come looking for me when you get back from your conference. I don’t want to discuss it any further.
Sorry to do this to you when you’re away but it’s easier this way. I’m sure you’ll get over it soon enough.
Chloe
The sobbing when Leah read it out to her, showing Chloe the message after she wrote it, and watching as it disappeared into the ether and winged its way to Jacob, was intense. Chloe wept and wailed, her cries muffled behind the makeshift gag, her eyes distended and swollen as she tried to voice her disdain and disapproval. The air was thick with her anger. But it didn’t matter. It was all too late because those words were already out there, on their way to her lover. Ex-lover.
The weight on Leah’s shoulders eases, the invisible pain she has been carrying around for what feels like an age, begins to dissipate. This whole thing has been far easier than she anticipated. She hopes it’s an omen of what lies ahead. Trying not to think too hard about Jacob’s reaction when he arrives home, Leah stands up, looks around the room and focuses on other things.
There are too many photographs in this place of Chloe and Jacob locked in each other’s arms like a pair of star-struck teenagers. Leah stands and strides around the room, gathering them up before flinging them in a bin, the glass on the frames making a satisfying crunch as they collide in the bottom of the metal container.
Behind her, she can hear Chloe’s strangled cries, her high-pitched stifled howls of protest. ‘Shush now,’ Leah murmurs, turning briefly to glance over her shoulder. ‘You always knew this was going to happen. It was only a matter of time, wasn’t it? If I was you, I’d take a nap. You need to conserve your strength. You can’t keep on fighting me. I’ve got the advantage here. I’m going to win Jacob back, Chloe. I was always going to win.’
She continues around the room, eyeing up trinkets and the numerous knick-knacks that are dotted about, all of which obviously belong to Chloe. There is nothing of Jacob in this place. Chloe has inched her way in until she is so entrenched in here that it’s impossible for Jacob to remove her. It’s a ploy used by many women; manipulative, scheming women like Chloe who have only their own interests at heart.
Leah opens a jewellery box and takes out an expensive gold necklace, draping it over her fingers. She holds it up and smiles, seeing the look of distress on Chloe’s face. It’s a treasured item then. Something special. Hopefully something irreplaceable. Perfect. Grasping it between two hands, she pulls, snapping it in half. The slight metallic click it makes as it breaks and comes away in her fingers, fills her with glee. The dulled grunt from the bed is enough to tell her that this was Chloe’s favourite piece of jewellery, perhaps even bought for her by Jacob. A series of fireworks explode in Leah’s head at the thought. She shivers and closes her eyes.
Today is turning out to be a very good day.
‘What a terrible shame,’ Leah murmurs as she drops the necklace to the floor and stands on it, grinding the small chain under her heel. Such an exquisite sensation. Such power. She is fuelled by a strong sense of revenge and can’t seem to stop herself. Grabbing handfuls of gold and silver jewellery – earrings, bracelets, necklaces – she pulls and tugs, tearing and stamping on them until all that remains is a pile of knotted and broken jewellery at her feet, dulled and tarnished by her violence.
The squirming and contorting from Chloe as she attempts to free herself is worth the effort. Leah stares long and hard, her expression one of curiosity as she assesses her victim, wondering how long she will continue with this rebellious streak before realising how pointless her efforts are. Thrashing about will only exhaust her. It certainly won’t stop Leah inflicting more damage and it definitely won’t bring Jacob back. It’s all a waste of time.
Chloe’s face is crimson, her eyes shiny with tears. Beads of perspiration have formed on her face. Her hair is plastered against her scalp, the towelling robe she was wearing having long since fallen. She slumps back on the bed, a dry heaving sound emanating from her throat. Leah grins. All of Chloe’s dignity, her natural grace and self-confidence have vanished. Lying on the bed is a worthless individual who has nothing, and is nothing. Funny how a bit of trauma can bring out the worst in people. Their ugly underbelly is soon revealed. This is the true Chloe, the person who stepped in without a second thought and stole Leah’s boyfriend. She is no more than a common thief.
And this is her punishment. Chloe deserves everything she gets.
27
Chloe is sleeping. Being imprisoned and her attempts to writhe free have finally exhausted her. Leah sits on a chair by the bed watching, too careful and too damn anxious to move away. Not that Chloe could get anywhere with her hands and feet tied together, but you never know. She may be slim and supple and those knots are as tight as Leah could possibly get them but all it takes is one small mistake and she could lose everything, including her freedom. The thought of being locked up in jail terrifies her. She needs to be vigilant, be on her mettle at all times. It would be foolish to have come so far and then fail because of a silly oversight. Chloe could still possibly manage to crawl to the door on her knees and grunt for help. She could do lots of things to free herself. She’s terrified and desperate, and terrified desperate people do impossibly insane things.
Leah chews at her nails, already ragged from years of biting and nibbling, an outward sign that she is not all she claims to be, that she struggles with her confidence. People think they know her, understand her. They don’t. She sighs, knowing this is the tricky par
t, the bit she hasn’t fully thought through. Anger and a need for vengeance drove her to do this. Her thoughts were muddied with plans and ideas of how to get revenge and it has clouded her judgement somewhat, driving her on without any real inkling of what she will do with Chloe after her little game is over and she has relieved herself of her fury.
She has a person here that she needs to remove and silence. If she throws Chloe out onto the street, the first thing Chloe will do is go to the police claiming Leah tortured her. Of course, they only have Chloe’s word for it. By the time they arrive, Leah will have removed every trace of Chloe from the flat. And she will have the text that Chloe sent to Jacob as evidence that she was planning on leaving anyway. What sort of police officer is going to take her claims seriously when presented with evidence to the contrary? Leah will say that she and Jacob are old friends and he asked her to call round and look after the flat while he was away.
The problem is, one call to him will shoot that particular lie down in flames. No, best to not be here when the police arrive. She will wander around town. She’s done it before after Grainne threw her out. She can do it again.
Her stomach flips at the thought of it, at the sickening reality of having nowhere to live. She is not prepared to sleep on the street again. She needs to think of something else, another way of ousting Chloe and having this place to herself without being questioned. Lots of things can occur in the space of a week. Miracles can happen. At least she hopes so because right now, that’s what it’s going to take to get her out of this sorry little mess. But what were her other choices? It was either this or sleep in a shop doorway or on a park bench or, God forbid, another seedy little hostel with the dregs of society. She doesn’t know which is worse, a flea-infested mattress in a damp squalid room or sleeping under the stars with passers-by glaring at her as if she has just attempted to eat their young. Leah looks around. Here is better. This flat will give her the comfort she needs until she works out what to do next.