I Know Who You Are(86)

I don’t move.

I can’t.

Nothing moves, except for the steady stream of blood.

I bend down, drawn to the sight of his broken body. With his eyes closed, and all the changes he has made to his face, he looks like a complete stranger to me now. A monster I never knew I’d met. His eyes open, and the hate I see in them makes me grab the handle of the ax once more. I yank it from his partially severed throat, lift it high above my head, and swing it down.

His eyes are still open, as if they are looking at me, as his head rolls across the shed floor.





Six Months Later …


I do not like movie junkets, they are always so melodramatic and distasteful.

One interview after another after another. The same questions, the same answers over and over. The eyes of journalists and their cameras all pointing in my direction, studying me, trying to catch me out, trying to see what lies lurk beneath my surface.

“Last one,” says Tony, before getting up to answer the knock on the door.

The production company has hired a hotel suite for the interviews today. There’s something quite surreal about working on a movie for months, then having almost nothing to do with it until sometimes a year later, when you’re in the middle of a completely different project. It’s as if I have become a time traveler, talking about different characters, in different stories, in different countries all over the world. I know that Jack is in the room next door, and I’m glad he’s not too far away. I’m also glad my agent is here; I don’t think I can do this on my own today. Just the thought makes me furious with myself; I’ve never needed anyone, and I don’t like the idea of needing someone now.

Nobody knows what really happened last year, and I plan to keep it that way.

Jennifer Jones sashays into the room, her cameraman desperately trying to keep up behind her while carrying all the gear himself. I can’t believe I agreed to do this.

“Aimee, darling, you’re looking so well!” She kisses the air on either side of my face, making sound effects with her lips. They are hot pink today and match her figure-hugging dress. “So, I know we don’t have very long, your agent has made that very clear.” She gives him a little wave. “No personal questions, I promise.” I look at Tony, a tiny shard of panic piercing my armor, but he nods reassuringly and I try not to fiddle with the hem of my dress.

“Rolling,” says the cameraman.

Jennifer Jones hones in on me, sharpening her tongue. “So, Sometimes I Kill is a great movie.” Her level of insincerity is genuinely impressive.

“Thank you.” I smile.

“And congratulations, how long do you have left to go?” She stares down at my bump.

“Three months.”

“Wow! And how is the father-to-be?”

He lost his head.

I look at Tony before answering. So much for no personal questions. “Jack is fine.”

“It’s just like a fairy tale, it really is. The two of you meeting on set last year, falling in love, getting married … I noticed that you’ve kept your name … again.”

“Yes, I have.”

“And now a little mini Aimee or Jack on the way, how delightful!”

“I’m very lucky.” I move my hand to my belly, as though wanting to protect my unborn child from Jennifer Jones’s potentially poisonous comments.

“So lucky that you’ve also just finished filming another project, this time with Fincher directing no less! I mean, wow, lady! How do you have the time?”

“Because of my growing bump, we filmed all my scenes in just a few months. It was full-on, but such a great experience, I loved every minute.”

And I finally have everything that I wanted.

“He’d originally cast someone else in that role, is that right?”

I hold her stare and try not to shift in my seat. “Yes, he did.”

“It must have been hard for you. Stepping into Alicia White’s shoes after she vanished without a trace.”

“I feel so sorry for Alicia and her family. She hid it very well, but she was obviously a very troubled individual.”

“It’s almost six months since she disappeared, and still no sightings or any explanation. What do you think happened to her?”

“Can we stick to questions about the film please,” Tony interrupts, sensing my unease.

“Of course,” says Jennifer Jones. “I’m not going to lie, your character in this film is really scary. And an actress playing an actress, that must have been fun. We’ve been getting the other actors to do a little something to camera for a promo, would you mind doing one? You just say the name of your character, a little something about who they are, then the name of the film.”

“Sure.”

“Great stuff. Just look straight down the barrel of the camera when you’re ready…”

I turn to face the camera and oblige her for this one, final request.

“My name is Aimee Sinclair. I was that girl you thought you knew, but you couldn’t remember where from. I think you’ll remember me now. Sometimes I kill.”

I sit back in my chair, confused by the expressions on everyone’s faces. Jennifer Jones smashes the silence with her cackle of a laugh, tilting her head back so that I can see her impressive collection of fillings. “You are so funny,” she says, but I’m still oblivious as to why. “You’re supposed to say your character’s name, not your name. We don’t want the audience to think Aimee Sinclair is going around killing people!”