Goodnight, my sweetness.Sleep tight and dream lovely things.
Twenty-Three
The tight room swelled and contracted, like a beating heart, trapping her deep in its central cavity. Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.
‘You can do better than that, my little flower,’ Terry yelled as the knife glinted in the candlelight.
‘Please, Terry, no. Please.’
He leaned over from his chair, knife tip pointing at her chin.
Walls closed in. Redness filled her closed eyelids as the sharpness of the knife tickled her ribs.
From the cold stone floor, she prised an eye open.
Darkness, nothing but the blackest darkness surrounded her. She reached out into the nothingness. Screaming – it was almost like the atmosphere was absorbing the sound. She should hear her gasping breaths and chattering teeth – nothing.
Screaming and screaming but no one can hear, no one ever heard her screams.
Gina jolted up in bed and gasped for air as she tussled with her sweaty sheets. Her head pounding in unison with her hammering heartbeat. ‘Leave me alone,’ she yelled as she grappled for the lamp, tears filling her eyes, panic filling her heart. Flashes of the red pulsating room filled her mind and fuelled the panic.
Light – there was light. Hot, she needed to remove her soaking wet nightshirt. Nausea. She stumbled out of bed and ran across the landing to the bathroom, leaning over the sink and splashing her face with water. The rancid taste of tequila mixed with coffee at the back of her throat made her cough. Deep breaths. She was safe in her home and she was there alone. She splashed herself again and her heart rate began to calm. Images of her nightmare flashed through her fuzzy head. She removed a strand of sweaty hair from her mouth and staggered towards the shower and crawled in.
Standing under the showerhead, she sobbed hard, letting all the shame and fear roll down her cheeks, mingling with the cleanliness of the scorching hot water, flowing over her dirty memories. Slamming the flat of her hand over and over, against the steamed up tiles made her want to hit harder. She wanted to feel something, anything, even if it hurt. Just not fear. Anything was better than fear. The look in the prostitute’s eyes as Terry had held a knife to both of them while humiliating them was back to haunt her. Just when she thought she’d sent these memories packing, they’d come back like an unwelcome visitor. Only this time, she wondered if this visitor would ever leave.
She felt along her ribs and touched the tiny scar where he’d jabbed the tip of the knife into her and she gagged with disgust. It had happened and it was real, regardless of how deeply she’d tried to bury it. What exactly did Steven know?
Twenty-Four
As Diane padded down the stairs, she shivered. The cool breeze met her face as she reached the bottom. She pulled her thick dressing gown across her body and tied it up at the waist.
The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. Turning slowly, she felt her stomach drop. Light from the downstairs toilet filled the hallway. She would never have left the window wide open. ‘Hello,’ she whispered as she peered into the room. Toilet seat down, soap and towel untouched. Maybe she had left the window open or maybe it had blown open. The catch was loose anyway. It had never happened before but there could always be a first. She made a mental note to call the landlord. It would be the second time but she was sure his tardiness in getting it fixed was merely an oversight.
Her knees made a clicking noise as she leaned over the toilet to close the window.
She headed to the living room and opened the curtains. Greyness filled the sky. Leaning down, she turned her little heater on. It would take her all morning to warm up now, costing money she didn’t have. She knew she only had several pounds left in the meter and it had to last. She glimpsed at the photo next to the television. She’d drifted off while thinking about Samantha and what might have happened to her. The smiling young woman looked into her eyes, just like she had always done in the past. Diane tried to imagine her voice but recalling it was becoming more difficult. She was slowly forgetting what her friend sounded like. She picked the photo up and gripped it to her chest, hugging it closely, just like she had done with Samantha on a few occasions.
She wiped her eyes as she headed towards the kitchen. Five in the morning. It was no time to get up. Maybe she’d get a cup of tea and go back to bed instead of sitting in the living room. Maybe she’d stay in bed, not get up all day. Finally she’d become sick of looking for reasons to get up. There were none. As she flicked on the kettle, something caught her eye.
There were many things on the kitchen table. Salt, pepper, sauce and vinegar. A few bills and some junk mail. But, she definitely hadn’t left a photo on the table. She took a deep breath and began to shake as she crept closer. Someone had been in her house, she was right all along. While she had been in bed, struggling to sleep, an intruder had crept in through her bathroom window, walked across the hall and into the kitchen. She tried the back door. It was unlocked. She’d definitely locked the back door before going to bed.
She picked up the intruder’s gift and held it in her hand, twiddling it between her thumb and index finger, shaking as tears slid down her cheeks. First the card and nail, and now this.
Twenty-Five
Gina rubbed her tired eyes as she waved at Jacob in the distance. She watched as Keith came out of Diane’s house with a couple of filled sample bags. Her disturbed sleep had left her feeling fuzzy and the few tequilas that she had drunk with Rex the night before were the cause of the nauseating throbbing that hammered through her head. Drops of rain dotted her face.
As her gritty eyes focused, she stared at the lock of hair through the clear evidence bag that Keith was cataloguing. ‘What do we have?’
He flinched as he straightened out, his back once again playing up. ‘Hair, blonde hair, about three inches in length. There are some roots but I hope there’s enough to run the sample through the DNA database.’
‘Check them against the fingernail that was sent in the card.’
‘Will do.’
‘Anything else?’
Jacob interrupted. ‘We arrived not long before you. Diane reported that she woke up about five in the morning, came downstairs and noticed that her downstairs toilet window was open. Then she spotted a photo and a neat lock of hair in her kitchen. The intruder must have left them.’ He did the buttons up on his anorak as he stepped back to stand under the front door canopy to avoid the heavy downpour that was building up.
