“Niamh?” A faint voice croaks from behind the curtain and I take it as an invitation to find the gap and peek my head through. She is awake.
That’s about the best thing I can say for her.
“Hi.” I force myself to plaster a smile on. “I was so glad to hear you were awake! How are you feeling?”
“Not great.” She wheezes a laugh and pushes herself up to sitting. “Could you hand me another pillow?” I grab one from the nearby chair and give it to her. The bandages on her arms blend into the white pillowcase seamlessly and she takes it, tucking it behind her head. She winces at the movement. “Thanks. Sit down.”
I do.
“I . . . sorry.” She frowns at me. “My memory is all over the place. But I know you, right? You were the girl who spilt the Coke on me.”
Great.
“Er, yeah. It’s Niamh. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be daft, least of my worries, wasn’t it?” She tries for a smile but her bottom lip is split and she winces as it pulls at the delicate skin. “I remember the name. Did you lend me the top I was wearing?”
“Yeah, that was me!” If she remembers that, maybe she could help after all.
“They took it off me when I arrived. The nurse said she left it here but she can’t find it now. Sorry. I can replace it when I get out, if you. . .”
I knew Jasmine was wearing my cardigan.
“Hello?” Jess’s head pops in through the curtains and suddenly I have two pairs of eyes on me. “Can I come in?”
“Er. . .”
“Sure, why not,” Tasha sighs. “Pull up a chair.”
“Oh, sorry, I don’t want to intrude. I’ll leave you to it.”
“No, no, stay,” says Tasha. “Sorry, my moods are a bit all over at the moment. I’m on a tonne of morphine.” Jess inches in and settles on the opposite side of the bed. “It’s not as good as they say it is, but I did wake up thinking I had a lion’s mane this morning.”
Jess starts to giggle and soon all three of us are smiling.
“Tasha, this is Jess,” I say. “Her mum works at the library in our building.”
Tasha’s smile vanishes and her face drains of blood. She was pale before, but now the scratches that drag from her temple into her hairline are stark, prominent red weals in otherwise porcelain skin. “The library?” she whispers.
“What’s wrong with the library?” I lean towards her and hesitate. Her right arm is broken, the bandages covering up a heavier plaster cast.
“It’s whereheworks,” Tasha whispers.
Jess sits bolt upright. “Who?”
“Him. That creepy guy I kept seeing around the drama school.” Tasha’s voice drips with fear and she fixes me with pupils that have retracted to tiny black dots. “Wait. You said your name was Niamh.”
“Yes?” Something is crawling under my skin as she looks at me with real terror.
“I knew I remembered your name.” Her voice is low now, small and quiet in the sterile room. “Niamh.That’s what he said.”
She raises a trembling finger and points it at me, and for the first time I notice her bare, bloody nail beds, where the nails have been ripped away. “The guy from the library. I could smell him. Kind of woody . . . mossy, almost.” She pauses, takes a deep, gulping breath. “He followed me. He grabbed me byyourtop and whisperedyourname in my ear. Right before he attacked me.”
“Will? He was the one who attacked you?”
I can tell Jess is trying to sound shocked, but neither of us are, not really. After getting locked in that horrible little room yesterday, it wasn’t going to take much to convince us he was the one responsible for all these attacks.
“Yeah.” Tasha nods, wincing in pain. “I went into the library earlier that day and then I kept seeing him around the building.” She shudders and pulls the crisp, white sheet tighter to her body before carrying on. “I didn’t really think anything of it, just thought he was on another course or something. But then I noticed him again, and again.” She frowns with the effort of remembering. “I went to a dance class. I was walking home after, and that’s when. . .”
