Still, I do actually need clothes.
The flat feels different. So quiet and cold compared to how it feels when Ellie and I are there. I stand in the hallway for a moment and mourn my soft furnishings. I’ve already ordered in new sheets and a big squishy duvet for Liam’s place. Being cosy is non-negotiable.
‘Clothes first,’ Liam says behind me, giving me a playful shove toward my bedroom. ‘Then the notes. Don’t take longer than you need to.’
‘I know, I know.’ I drop my keys on the table and head for my room. ‘Ten minutes tops, I promise.’
He follows me as far as the sitting room, and then peels off to look around, checking that windows are still locked and that nothing’s gone amiss in our absence.
I leave him to it and pull a bag from under my bed, open it, and start filling it.
Jumper. Jeans. A heaping handful of knickers. The good shampoo I forgot the first time. My lecture notes from my desk. Laptop. Charger. The book from my nightstand that I’ve been pretending to read for weeks while worrying about my stalker or daydreaming about Liam.
I’m folding the second jumper when I hear Liam’s voice from the sitting room. I look up and see a shape flitting past my window.
‘Stay here,’ Liam shouts.
Then the sound of the flat door.
I straighten up. ‘Liam?’
Nothing, then he goes past my window too.
The flat door is ajar when I go to the sitting room, so I push it fully closed and lock it. Liam can knock when he comes back, but I’m sure as hell not leaving it wide open.
I go back to my room and finish packing, thehair on my arms standing as I abandon neat folding and shove things into the bag so that we can go as soon as Liam gets back.
Eight minutes pass. The bag is stuffed and resting by the door, and in a last-minute change of heart, I go to the drawer of heart stones and lift up a handful. They clink softly in my palm, and I decide that they should come too.
I just need Liam to come back so we can go.
Come on.
I pick my phone up. Type his name. Put it down again.
Two more minutes.
A breeze tickles the back of my neck, and I glance toward my window. It’s still closed tight.
Then I notice the shadow under the door.
I stand very still, and I listen, but I can’t hear anything. Had I imagined the shadow?
‘Liam,’ I call out. Nothing.
You’re imagining it.
I turn to put the stones in my bag, but don’t get the chance. A hooded man bursts in, and I scream. I don’t stop to try and make out his face; it looks completely shadowed, but I make a run for my bed, bending over and reaching for the knife I’d stashed.
My fingers scrape the bone handle, and relief washes over me. I tighten my grip and bring the knife up, but before I can turn, the world goes black.
Thick fabric engulfs my face and pulls tightly around my throat. I slash out behind me with the blade and hear a yowl and a curse, before the knife is snatched from my hands. The fabric is coarse against my face, and the darkness inside it is total.
I scream again and claw at the bag with both hands. The man tries to pin me, but I fight like a hellion, scratching and kicking. He throws me on the bed, winding me, and I grab out for something, anything to defend myself. I get a handful of curtain, and the whole thing comes down on me.
The lamp goes over when he tugs me off the bed, glass breaking and catching my calf. The pain sears, but I can’t see how bad it is. He flips me onto my stomach and tries to capture both of my wrists behind my back. But I can’t give up. I unseat him by turning, then wrench my right hand free and scratch. Nails raking down whatever I can reach, and I hear a pained intake of breath and feel a grim moment of satisfaction before my arms are forcefully pushed behind me, the pain in my shoulders blinding.
Biting plastic secures my wrists behind my back, the noise of the zip ties unmistakable. Then he pulls me to my feet and slams me face-first into a wall.
