‘Kill him? Because that ain’t my—’
‘No. I want him to come away terrified of what I’m capable of doing to get what I want. I want to make his life hell.’ So hellish, in fact, that death would become a more attractive option than life.
He nodded. ‘And what did he do to twist your tampon?’
‘He took something away that he promised to me,’ she replied vaguely. It was better Garry didn’t know the ins and outs. He wouldn’t understand.
Three weeks have passed since Garry was run over. When Laura discovered his car, she also checked each refuse container to see if one contained him. There was no trace of his body, so she assumes he’s in a landfill somewhere with the rest of the rubbish.Such a waste, quite literally, she thinks, then chuckles.
She switches from that video clip to another, the footage she recorded in Damon’s apartment. Specifically, the moment before he was supposed to die. His taut limbs, the fear in his face, the guttural gasps travelling up his throat as he tried to fight her. While this video encourages her brain to release enough dopamine to cause her skin to tingle, it stops short of giving her that feeling of euphoria she craves. There’s only one way for that to return. And it is all dependent on Damon dying again.
It’s been a fortnight since she sent him the clip of Garry’s last moments. He has been left to stew for long enough. Laura scrolls through her WhatsApp messages and rereads his twenty-seven replies she has yet to respond to. There’s a lightness in her chest when she thinks of his increasing anxiety, signalled by the arrivalof each successive message. They’re a delight to review, becoming angrier and angrier and eventually more threatening. She rereads his last few.
What the fuck do you want from me?he wrote. And now she is ready to reply.
We had an agreement, she texts.
His response comes almost immediately.You had a rope tied around my neck. You were trying to kill me. Not bringing me back wasn’t part of our agreement.
Do you believe everything your ex-wife tells you?
A minute passes before he responds.
What do you want from me?he asks.
What I’m owed.
And what do you think that is?
For her own amusement, she responds with three emojis. The first, a rope with a knot in it. The second is a face exhaling a puff of air. And the third is a coffin.
She hits send, then switches her phone off and enjoys a second dopamine influx.
Chapter 79
Damon
I place my phone face down on the coffee table without replying. So Melissa was right: Laura planned to kill me that night. I think I doubted Melissa’s interpretation of events because I didn’t want to admit to myself I made a huge mistake in trusting a stranger to be honest about their reasons for helping me to die. And now Laura has made it clear she wants to finish what she started. Only she doesn’t know who she’s up against. I’m not the same man she tried to kill last time, or even the person she sent that video to. Now I know the truth about myself, I fear nothing and no one. But for now, I’ll allow her to believe she has me over a barrel. It’s easier to fool the enemy when they’re blinded by arrogance.
I open the fridge door in search of a bottle of beer. It’s devoid of both food and alcohol, so I slip on a jacket, pull my hood up and leave the flat.
My neighbours who argue so often are at it again. They are walking up the staircase towards me as I descend, the first time I have actually seen them in person. They can’t be any older than their late teens. How can two people be so dysfunctional at such a young age? He is yelling at her again, telling her she is a wasteof space and he can do better. I feel an unexpected and frankly exhilarating hostility swelling up inside me and clench my fists as we prepare to cross paths. I purposely catch him with my shoulder and he loses his balance, falling backwards down three steps and landing flat on his back.
‘Thefuck?’ he manages, while clearly winded.
‘Sorry, mate,’ I say, and stop to grab his arm to lift him back to his feet. And as I do so, I whisper in his ear. ‘I have a spare key to your flat,’ I inform him, ‘and if you talk to your girl like shit again, I will stab you to death in your fucking bed.’ He’s standing on his own again now, but I hold on to his arm. ‘Understand?’
He’s not sure he’s heard me correctly until he looks into my eyes and sees who he’s talking to. Who I really am. He doesn’t know I’m lying to him, of course. About the spare key part, anyway.
He nods quickly, then I leave him, and as I make my way to a minimart a few streets away, there’s a rush of something pumping through my veins that leaves me excited. What I did, what I said, to that kid wasn’t me. I don’t behave like that. Yet I did, only a few minutes ago. And it’s left me buzzed.
‘You okay, mate?’ asks the man behind the counter as I pay for my six-pack of San Miguel, a vape and a pack of refills. I’m a regular customer, so he recognises me. I catch a glimpse of myself in the convex mirror behind him. I’m a ghost of my former self. I look worse than those I hallucinate. Yet inside, I’ve never felt stronger.
‘Long Covid,’ I say, covering my mouth. I pay him and leave.
In need of a change of scenery, I make my way to a local park. I twist the cap off my first beer bottle as I lower myself on to a wooden bench. A bearded man of indeterminate age shuffles past me, pushing his worldly belongings in a shopping trolley and humming to himself. I wonder what’s led him to where he is now. Perhaps he is thinking the same about me, because we are not that dissimilar. For a fraction of a second, a pulse of energy bubblesunder the surface of my skin, a spark in search of something to ignite. I imagine smashing my bottle on the pavement and tearing it across his throat until his flesh is shredded. The moment passes almost as soon as it arrives. He glances at my stash, then at me, and without either of us saying a word, I offer him one. He nods his gratitude, and wheels himself away.
I’m halfway through my own bottle when Daisy Barber takes a seat next to me. Her undamaged side stares ahead at a tree-lined island in the centre of a pond.
