Callum is the first to reply, but a combination of static and unintelligible words come from his black hole of a mouth. ‘Oodis’ is the only word I can make out, but still, it makes no sense. ‘Oodis,’ he says once again.
‘I don’t understand,’ I reply. But I desperately want to.
Callum moves towards me and I unconsciously shift a little further back. Daisy is the next to edge closer to me. My phone vibrates again, and when I glance at the screen, I realise I’ve missed five more calls from the same withheld number. There’s also a text message from Melissa.
You’re a lying, selfish fucking arsehole, she’s written.
I look up and I’m alone again.
I’m about to respond withwhy?to Melissa when I remember what I’ve done to provoke her wrath. I had an appointment at the fertility clinic this afternoon to make another donation. That’s who the withheld calls were from. I know I should rearrange the appointment for tomorrow instead, but the way my ribs hurt and where my head is at, I doubt I’ll even manage to become aroused,let alone climax. So instead, I shower, get dressed and make my way downstairs to the designated parking area under the flats, and prepare to drive to Melissa’s house and beg her for forgiveness.
I climb into the car, slip the seat belt on with one hand while closing the door with the other. But I don’t get the chance to shut it fully as someone grabs it and yanks it open.
Before I even turn my head, I know it’s him. The man who threatened to kill me a month ago. And before I can defend myself, his hands clamp around my head as he tries to drag me out of my car.
Chapter 45
Damon
My neck ligaments stretch like he is trying to rip my head off. But unlike the last time he attacked me, my awkward positioning weakens his grip, so he isn’t strong enough to completely overpower me. I dig my fingers into the tendons of his arms and he loosens his hold ever so slightly. Enough for me to reach out and press the car’s ignition button.
‘I told you last time, this isn’t a game, but you didn’t fucking listen,’ he snarls, throwing his body towards me inside the car to try to undo my seat belt.
I still have no idea what he means, but I don’t have time to figure it out. I know I’m no match for his brawn, so instead of trying to push him off me, I push the gearstick paddle on the steering wheel into reverse, then slam my foot on the accelerator. The car shoots backwards, as does my confused attacker as he is pushed along by the driver’s door, until there’s a crack of bones and crunch of metal when his body and the door collide with a concrete post. He crumples to the ground like a bag of bricks. I scramble to close the door, but for an excruciating moment my savaged ribs won’t allow me to do anything but shriek in pain. Andwhen I do finally get hold of it, I learn the door’s hinges must have overstretched because the damn thing won’t shut.
‘Shit!’ I scream and shift gears instead, this time lurching forward. But I know I won’t be able to get the vehicle out of the narrow car park with a wide-open door, so I hit the brakes again. I desperately try to close the door again, but it won’t budge. A movement in the rear-view mirror catches my eye. My dazed attacker is slowly climbing to his feet.
It’s him or me.
A new sensation comes over me. One that I’m unfamiliar with. Panic and fear have made way for anger. I want,I need, to hurt this man.
I slip the car into reverse and floor the accelerator. He can’t move quickly enough. The rear bumper hits him with such force that he vanishes from view – under my wheels, I can tell by the way the car heaves beneath me. My knuckles are white as I grip the steering wheel and shoot forward again, my tyres bumping over him before I manage to stop the car.
My stare is fixed on the rear-view mirror and the reflection of the motionless heap lying on the ground. I can’t leave here without knowing if he is alive or dead.
Slowly, I exit the car. I’ve watched enough films to know this is the part where the bad guy springs back to life, but I can see from here the unnatural twist in his neck and part of his cracked-open skull. Not even the toughest Hollywood bad guy could survive the damage he’s suffered.
My rage slips away and I return to myself. But I’m conscious I don’t have time to dwell on what I’ve done. It’s far too late for me to call an ambulance, and I know the police will say I’ve gone beyond what constitutes self-defence. Also, if any of my neighbours in the flats above suddenly appear to pick up their cars, then I’m done for. I need to save myself and dispose of his body right now. Ilook around me and clock the bin storage section in the corner of the car park. I grab him by the ankles, but one of them is broken and moves like jelly.
My stomach churns when I realise we are not alone. Someone is watching me. I turn, and see my mum. It’s a relief, as if she’s here to assure me I’ve done the right thing. That I had no choice. However, she makes no attempt at communicating this. Instead, she watches as I set to work covering my tracks.
Chapter 46
Damon
It takes all my strength to drag the man twenty metres to the bin storage. Each step delivers a dagger to my ribs and I’m in tears by the time we’re inside. I close the bin storage’s doors but I can’t rest. Inside are a handful of galvanised wheelie bins, and I choose one labelled ‘non-recyclables’ knowing that after it’s tipped into the back of the collection lorry, its next destination is a landfill site.
The stench is overpowering as I open the lid. And going by the list of dates attached to the wall by the private refuse firm, tomorrow is collection day. It’s almost full, which will make it easier to hide him, if I can only succeed in getting him inside. I slowly climb in to empty it, tossing dozens and dozens of bags over the side until it’s only two bags deep. I’m covered in other people’s uneaten food, sanitary products, nappies and general household trash, as fetid bin juice leaks and seeps through my jeans and jumper.
He is far too heavy for me to lift and drop inside the bin, so I tip it on to its side on the concrete floor, climb in again, and drag him in after me. Adrenaline is keeping my pain to a bearable limit, but I know I’ll pay for this later. Tucked in tight with stinking refuse and the corpse of the man I’ve just killed, I search his pocketsto try to find out who he is ... who hewas. But he has no wallet and no mobile phone. Might’ve been good information to have, but not a top priority.
After I clamber over the nameless man out of the bin, it takes me what feels like forever to push the bin back upright, then cover him up with the bags I chucked out to make room for him. By the time I’ve finished, I’m drenched in sweat and I reek. But finally, I shut the lid. All I can do now is hope that when he ends up in landfill and buried under tons of rubbish, he will never be found.
I hurry back to my car and park it in its space, kicking and kicking my sprung driver’s door until at last it shuts. There’s a tap near the bin storage so I fill an empty water bottle lying on my back seat and turn to wash his blood off the ground. It’s at this point that it dawns on me there might be CCTV cameras in here and that everything that’s happened has been recorded and stored on a server somewhere. But when I’ve scanned the roof and walls, it still seems possible that luck might finally be on my side. I can’t locate a single lens.
Finally, ensuring there is no one else around but Mum, I hurry back upstairs and take a long hot shower I never want to leave.
Chapter 47
