Silent Victim(50)

‘You were cheap,’ I said, looking her up and down with disgust. ‘After the way you behaved, did you really think I’d be interested in anything more?’ A warmth spread from within as I watched her features crumble. This was what I’d wanted when I’d tapped on her window pane. ‘Look at you, following me around, like you’re trying to replace my dog. You almost lost me my job today. You’d better stop what you’re doing or you’ll come to regret it.’

‘Please. You don’t mean that,’ she said, making no effort to escape as I edged myself closer to her. My words were saying one thing, but my body was communicating something else. Her expression was wracked with confusion as I lay my hands on her shoulders, grazing her cheek with the knuckles of my right hand, just as I had that time we’d met in my classroom after lessons had ended.

‘Oh, little puppy,’ I said, ‘how many times must I kick you before you stop coming back for more?’ I pressed my lips upon hers, teasing her mouth open with my tongue. For a few tantalising seconds we entwined, my fingers caressing the back of her neck, eliciting a soft moan. ‘Is this what you want?’ I whispered, planting butterfly kisses on her skin. She arched her neck to meet me, closing her eyes as my hands caressed her back. Pulling away, I tutted as she wrapped her hands around me, trying to draw me near. Grasping her wrists, I pushed her away. I wiped my mouth to remove all traces of her from my lips. ‘Like I said, cheap. Harass me again and I’ll call the police.’

‘No,’ she screamed. ‘You can’t do this to me. I won’t let you. I . . .’ but her words were cut short as I wrapped both my hands around her throat, pinning her up against the wall. ‘You don’t call the shots here, I do. Say one word to jeopardise my job and I’ll leave you so nobody will ever look at you again. Understand?’

Emma spluttered a cough as I released my grip, the fear in her eyes telling me all I needed to know. I was the one in control, not her, and if I wanted her I would click my fingers and watch her come running. Not that I would be calling anytime soon. I had another prize in mind.

Closing the back door behind me, I disappeared into the night, leaving a broken little girl behind.





CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

EMMA





2003


The floorboards creaked from my movement, and I climbed on to my bed, gripping my phone as the mattress bounced lightly beneath my weight. I sat, legs splayed amongst the remnants of things I had collected over the school year. A piece of paper Luke had scribbled on, then thrown in the bin. A pebble from the gravel yard of his home. I knew I had been taking a risk in returning, but I ventured there only when I knew Luke and his family were away. Shame fell heavy as I remembered clambering through his open bedroom window on the ground floor. If he only knew! That would have blown up in my face for sure. Yet it had been a bittersweet torture, lying on his bed and spending time amongst his things. Inhaling his scent from the pillow on his bed. It made me feel closer to him. Less alone. I returned my gaze to the bent-up photo I had found in his bedroom drawer. I had taped a picture of me over the girl he was standing with. My gaze fell on the old clipping from the local newspaper about the school art exhibition I was excluded from. My bedspread was covered with things that whispered his name. I clutched the cordless phone in my hand, my fingers stiff from repetitively dialling his mobile phone.

It had been easy to disguise my tears from my father, blaming my puffy eyes on a bout of hay fever. Not that he had noticed. Since Mum left, he wasn’t really present any more. There had been all sort of questions asked after she disappeared, but the rumours had died down now. Mum had been vocal about leaving us well before she took the plunge, but even now, I struggled to accept she had gone for good. It was me, it had to be. I drove everybody away. Today was the first day in ages that I had attempted to cook a healthy meal. Fed up of moping around, I had cycled to the shops and bought all the ingredients myself. But now the food lay uneaten in the bottom of our rubbish bin.

How could Luke be so cruel? I licked my lips, still sore from the pressure of his kiss, my tongue finding a small cut inside my gum. It had been just the same that night in the beach hut, rough and uncaring, not how I imagined my first time to be. Yet, I longed for him just the same.

He had told me I was beautiful, made me feel as if I counted in this world. But it was all lies, just to get what he wanted. He never really loved me at all. My guts churned at the thoughts of his departure. Why would he have kissed me if he didn’t care?

I took little comfort from the thought. He was slipping away, and his kiss was just a parting shot. It scared me just how empty my life would become without him. Up until now I had fooled myself that there was still a chance for us.

Following him in town, poring over his things, I knew it wasn’t normal behaviour. Sometimes I could justify my actions because I loved him. I knew then that I’d rather kill myself than face the thought of being without him. My heart felt as if it was breaking into tiny little splinters, and I could not take the pain any more.

I gathered my thoughts. Would that make him come to his senses? Make him fall in love with me again? It reminded me of the daisy game I used to play, plucking the petals as I recited the words, ‘He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me . . .’

I stifled a yawn. It was the middle of the night and I had school in the morning. How was I going to face school, when all the gossips in the common room now talked about me? I rubbed my throat where he had gripped me tightly, yet in some masochistic way I had welcomed his contact. It was rough and unloving but the best someone like me could hope for. My relationship with Luke was the worst kind of torture. Mum’s departure had cut me to the bone, but at least it had been quick, with little promise of return.