by Gemma Rogers
I started off on the treadmill, knowing Ian would normally arrive around half an hour after me; he’d told me he worked until five and came straight there. An hour later, I was already on weights, the last part of my workout, and he still hadn’t showed. I toyed with asking Ahmed but didn’t want to appear clingy. Ian hadn’t responded to my text the night before. He said nothing about not being be around. Maybe he’d got caught up in something at work?
I dragged it out for as long as I could before going home to a microwave meal. I stared at my phone after dinner, willing it to beep. It was strange being desperate for contact from someone you despised. There would be no butterflies when he finally got in touch, just relief. Ben would have found it amusing for sure, watching me getting uptight, but he was working tonight, and I hadn’t seen him all day.
I switched the television on, looking for some distraction when a text came through from Ian.
I’m outside.
What the fuck? Outside where? Seconds later there was a loud knocking at the door. I jumped, my body quivered, alerted to the fact something was wrong. I checked my phone again, unable to put the two together. Ian was here? He couldn’t be. He didn’t know where I lived, did he?
Normally when I was alone I wouldn’t answer the door, but the television was blaring, and I knew it could be heard from the hallway outside. I wore the pyjamas mother had sent me for Christmas, pink fleece with tiny penguins on. Not the best outfit to speak to a stranger in. It had to be a stranger surely, Ian must have meant the text for someone else and it was just a coincidence someone was at the door. I crept closer , tiptoeing along the carpet, and almost screamed when I got close and the knocking resumed, impatient this time.
‘Eve, it’s me.’ Ian’s voice travelled through the solid wood door and I clapped a hand over my mouth, backing up. Frozen for a few seconds as my mind raced at the same speed as my heart. How had he found me? Fuck, I had to get out of here. No time.
Rushing to the bathroom, I twisted the caps off the contact lens case, struggling to put them in with shaking hands as the seconds ticked by. I couldn’t answer the door without them, it would be suicide. More knocking came, urgent. He wasn’t going to go away.
Rushing back to the front door and steeling myself, I swung it open; a huge bouquet of dark red roses was pushed towards me. Ian didn’t strike me as the romantic type. My heart racing, I gasped as I took them from the outstretched hand. I lowered the blooms to inhale their fragrance. It seemed like the right thing to do. My hands still shaking. Even framed by the beautiful petals, his eyes were evil. Cold, heartless and cruel.
‘What took you so long?’ he said, grinning.
Sunday 28 January 2018
‘The question is, did you mean to kill him?’ Hicks asks, staring intently at me.
I hold his gaze, refusing to blink. The interview has stepped up a gear since the break. Detective Hicks looks like he has a point to prove. I have to hold my own. Terry, the duty solicitor, advised me against answering any more questions and reverting to my right to give no comment. Defiant, I told him I was going to tell the truth. He looked bewildered. Anyone would think I have a problem with authority.
‘No, I did not.’ I will not allow myself to be rattled, I’ve come this far.
‘But you do have anger issues?’ he continues.
‘Do I?’ Where is this going?
‘Apparently so, according to the report from your psychiatrist.’ He removes some papers from a folder he brought into the room a few minutes ago. Damn it Doctor Almara. Whatever happened to patient–doctor fucking confidentiality? ‘As well as considerable emotional trauma, Miss Harding appears to have repressed anger issues due to the unresolved sexual assault which happened in September 2017. No offender being found has contributed to these feelings of rage which she has confessed to,’ he reads.
‘That’s not fair,’ I stutter. I hold my hand out for the sheet, so I can read the words myself.
Hicks hesitates before obliging. Becker watches our exchange, a flush creeping up her neck. She’s squirming in her seat. I know I have her on side. He doesn’t trust me though.
‘Yes, I was angry, wouldn’t you be? Angry at the system. Angry at the man who did it to me,’ I try to explain, but he cuts me off.
‘Rage. She clearly writes you have admitted to feelings of rage.’
I remain silent. I won’t justify myself any further, but Hicks looks pleased with himself. He thinks he’s got me. Give me five minutes alone and I’ll show you my rage. I dig my nails into my palms under the table, stopping short of drawing blood.
‘Could you explain to us again how you stabbed Ian?’ Becker asks.
‘I told you, I was on my back. He was on top of me with one hand around my throat, the other holding my wrist. I searched around with my free hand, trying to find something to use against him. I knocked the tray off the table and then I felt the knife.’ I demonstrate with Hicks’s pen, imagining driving it into his wrinkly flesh for a second. ‘And brought my hand up to get him wherever I could,’ I continue.
‘You stabbed him in the axillary artery which runs underneath the armpit. Was that intentional?’
Yes, of course it was, you moron. How else was I going to get him to bleed to death in minutes without it looking like I meant to? It was the reason I didn’t choose the neck or the thigh. Too obvious.
‘No, I just wanted to get him off me. To escape. He was trying to strangle me.’ I point to the necklace of bruises that circle my skin. Glaring at the detectives in turn.
‘Did you have sex with Ian?’
‘No?’
‘The lab found semen on your vaginal swab.’
I fold my arms. Shit, this doesn’t look good.
‘We’re running the DNA, but it takes time. Why don’t you just tell us whose it is?’ Becker asks, her eyes like slits. Now I look like the town tramp, but there’s no point in getting caught out in a lie.
‘I slept with Ben, my flatmate. We got drunk, one thing led to another. It was a one night stand that we both regretted in the morning.’ I sigh and look up to the ceiling. When will this be over?
‘Let’s have a break,’ Hicks says, rubbing his grey whiskers. A shave is long overdue.
‘Can we get Eve some more water please?’ Becker asks the officer by the door. Thank goodness, I need to rehydrate.
37
Monday 15 January 2018
‘I-Ian?’ I stuttered, stepping back, a mixture of terror and embarrassment washed over me.
‘I know, I’m sorry to arrive unannounced. Nice pyjamas!’ he said, taking note of my reaction. He chuckled, ignoring my mouth hanging open, and stepped past me into the hallway. Vampires had to be invited in, didn’t they?
I clutched at the neck of my top to check I’d buttoned all the way to the collar. I felt exposed.
‘I won’t stay long. Quick cup of tea?’
I nodded, still unable to speak. What the hell was he doing here? He must have followed me home from the gym. The claret petals fluttered in my trembling hand and I began to feel faint. I remained rooted to the spot by the front door, worried I’d fall if I moved.
Ian laughed, mistaking my distress for surprise, and took the flowers from me. Striding down the hallway, looking right and then left until he found the kitchen. Seconds passed, and I was yet to follow him. I lingered, gazing out into the stairwell down to the street, feeling the chill from the air outside wafting in. I considered running into the street and the muscles in my thighs twitched in anticipation, but the bubbling kettle brought me back to my senses, propelling me to move. I closed the front door and hurried to my bedroom, unhooking my dressing gown from behind the door and tying it tightly.
‘Sorry, you caught me off guard. Obviously,’ I said, forcing a smile and gesturing to my dressing gown.
He waved away my embarrassment and continued to hunt around the kitchen cupboards for mugs.
Autopilot kicked in and I took the flowers over to the sink to unwrap the celloph
ane. ‘Thank you for the roses, they’re beautiful.’
‘You’re welcome. I couldn’t resist, so dark, like blood.’
I shivered at his choice of words. An avalanche of dread crashing down upon me. I was trapped, alone with him. Ben wouldn’t be home until the morning. Did Ian already know that? Had he been watching the flat?
‘I’m sorry I wasn’t at the gym today. I had to work late, but I wanted to see you.’
‘How did you know where I live?’ I asked, keeping my tone light. It was easier to maintain composure with my back to him; fear would be obvious in my eyes. I heard water being poured and then the fridge opening. I took the scissors out of the drawer and snipped the stems. Taking my time. If he was going to attack me, he would have done it by now. His DNA would be all over the kitchen and the flowers. Despite that, I held the scissors tightly in my hand.
Play it cool; he’s paid you a surprise visit, nothing more. Remember, you don’t know he’s a rapist.
‘If I told you that, I’d be giving away my secrets, now wouldn’t I?’ He laughed, and I smiled, to show I was in on the joke, but his tone made me uneasy. It must have been Ahmed, either that or he’d followed me home? I left the scissors on the side for easy access and placed the roses in the only vase I owned. It quivered as I put it on the table. They were stunning, belonging to a gothic fairy tale. Ian saw me staring at them and smiled, more to himself than at me.
‘I knew you’d love roses.’
He was across the kitchen in one swift movement, face inches from mine. Backed into the corner, nowhere to escape to. My chest tightened, fingers gripping the worktop to keep myself steady. He pushed a blonde strand of hair behind my ear, his lifeless eyes searched mine as though he was looking for answers. I knew he enjoyed having the upper hand. He liked to be in control, in every way and I was no match for him here.
‘I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.’ He leaned in, his lips brushing mine. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed for Ben to walk in unexpectedly. Ian held the back of my head in place, fingers in my hair. I was going nowhere until he was done with me. I held my breath when his other hand wrapped around the cord of my dressing gown, tugging it gently. He was going to undress me, here in the kitchen. My brain was steaming ahead, thinking of ways to escape, excuses to stop. All the time trying to pretend I was enjoying his tongue dancing in my mouth. I tried my best to get involved, not to be stiff. But not so much for him to take things further. Finally, after an age, he pulled away, licking his lips as though he had just stopped short of devouring me entirely.
‘That made it worthwhile,’ he said, releasing his grip on my dressing gown and stepping away to pick up his tea.
My lips tingled from the pressure, chest flushed red. You’re disgusting, the voice in my head spat.
‘You’re very quiet?’ Ian said.
‘I’m sorry, you’ve just thrown me.’ I said, my hand touching my lips.
Christ, Eve, get your shit together otherwise he’s going to figure out something is wrong.
I slurped the too hot liquid, my mouth stinging. The burning was a welcome cleanse, dissolving the taste of Ian. I sat at the table and he followed, sitting opposite me. It was strange seeing another man in Ben’s chair.
‘How was your day?’ I asked, making conversation.
‘Nightmarish, we almost had an account pull out of a contract, which is why there was a crisis meeting. I should have gone to the gym to be honest, relieve the stress, but I wanted to see you.’ His eyes flickered to my closed bedroom door, which could be seen from the kitchen.
‘You could always go for a run?’ Images of him sprinting away whilst I hid behind the parked car flashed into my mind.
‘Bit late now, I might before work in the morning.’ He finished his tea, mine was still a touch too hot to drink, but I persevered regardless. He stood and put his empty mug in the sink, turning back to me. I didn’t move, eyes fixed on him. Was he going to drag me to my bedroom? Force himself on me? ‘I’ll let you get to bed.’
I pushed myself up and walked Ian to the door, relief washing over me. I thanked him again for the flowers. In a few more seconds, I would be able to relax. He would be out of my home and I would be safe with the deadbolt across the door. Although now he knew where I lived, I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe again.
‘See you Wednesday?’ I nodded, waiting for the kiss I knew I would have to endure. When it came, he cupped my face in his hands and there was less urgency, but I was grateful when it ended.
When he left, I locked the door and checked every window, making sure the flat was secure. I needed a drink stronger than tea. I threw away what was left of mine and poured a large elderflower gin. Sitting at the table, I retrieved my packet of cigarettes from the fruit bowl. I hadn’t smoked in days, but I lit one, sucking in the smoke, using the taste of tobacco and gin to rid the memory from my mouth. How far was I going to let this relationship go? How far was I willing to go with the plan?
38
Tuesday 16 January 2018
I slept past my alarm the following morning and had to drag myself to work, it had been a fitful night. I kept watching the app but didn’t see Ian return home. The barren image of his living space had been burnt into my retinas. Where was he? What dark road was he wandering along? Who was he following?
I was grateful he didn’t push me further last night. He could have and what would I have done, here alone? So confident to the point of being cocky, it was intimidating. I found myself shrinking whenever I was around him. Although who I was around Ian wasn’t the real me. It was the submissive Eve, who was happy to relinquish control. The sort of girl Ian liked. One he could easily manipulate.
I popped home at lunchtime. Ben and I rustled up beans on toast after he had discovered the fridge was empty and our stomachs rumbled in joint protest. I promised to go shopping in the afternoon and Ben tried to give me some cash, but I refused.
‘I’m doing all right for money at the minute. If I need it, I’ll shout. I promise.’
He shoved the notes back in his wallet.
‘Amy’s been hassling me about coming for dinner,’ Ben admitted.
I raised my eyebrows, glad my mouth was full, and I wasn’t about to speak before I had a chance to initiate my filter.
‘Oh? Let me know when and I’ll make myself scarce.’
Ben rolled his eyes. ‘No, you idiot, she wants to come for dinner, with all of us. Together.’
Oh God, could I sit through that?
Ben sniggered, reading my thoughts. ‘It won’t be that bad.’
I hadn’t been able to hide my expression fast enough. Being a gooseberry, in my own kitchen and having to be polite whilst she hung off his every word sounded like torture.
‘Okay, you’re cooking though. You can cook for your harem.’ I smirked, and Ben’s ears tinged pink. I was sure he was going to hate it as much as I was.
We left soon after; he had some errands to run before work and I had to get back to the club.
That evening, after a dinner of pasta carbonara, I settled in front of the television to write some more in my journal. Checking the dates against the calendar on my phone. I needed to get into the habit of doing it daily, but nothing about my life was routine any more, even the visits to the gym.
I opened the PetCam app, expecting to see another view of Ian’s empty sofa, so was surprised to see Ian sitting with the laptop on his knees. Muting the television, I turned the volume on the phone right up and switched on the speaker. He was talking to someone. Who was there, was it a woman? My skin prickled, but then I saw his neck crooked to the side, holding the slim phone against his ear with his shoulder. The speaker wasn’t great quality and I could barely make out the words, but I heard Ian say ‘account’ and ‘premium’. He must still be working.
Mesmerised, I continued watching. He finished his phone call and started tapping the keyboard. Perhaps he was sending emails. It was frustrating not being able to see the screen this time. He wa
s sitting on the opposite sofa and the screen wasn’t in view. After a few minutes, he stretched and put his hands behind his head. He swore, then snapped shut the lid of his laptop and threw it on the sofa. He strode out of view, returning a minute later, unbuttoning his shirt as he stared at something, eyes glazed. What was he doing? A nervous twitch erupted in my eye as I glared at the screen. He left the room and I sat, willing him to come back into shot.
Minutes passed, and I smoked two cigarettes back to back before he returned, now dressed in dark clothing. I sat up straight. Was he going running? Or… Fuck. He was going out on the prowl.
Jumping up, I ran into my room and pulled on running leggings and a black hoody. I had to stop him. I had to do something. I couldn’t let him go out and attack another woman. Adrenaline pulsed in my muscles as if they knew I was about to run the mile journey in as few minutes as possible. I didn’t know what I’d do when I saw him. Would it blow everything?
Grabbing my phone and keys, I was a few steps from the door when a knock came from the other side. I ignored it; I had to get going. I hopped from foot to foot, considering using the fire escape stairs, but the knocking persisted.
‘Miss Harding?’ a voice called.
I instantly recognised the cool tone with a hint of middle class. She had terrible timing.
I opened the door.
‘Detective Emmerson. Sorry I was just getting changed.’
‘Hello, Eve, are you on your way out?’
‘Yes, I’m just off to the gym,’ I replied.