I skid to a halt and spin around. Look up.
On the lip of the stairs, in front of the arched leadlight window, Jack has Ada pinned against him, his forearm roping around her shoulders, his hand around her neck. My heart plummets. He has my sister. He has her and he isn’t going to let her go. I know now, in this moment, we aren’t all going to make it out of this house alive.
‘Jack, don’t do this, please, please, please don’t,’ I gabble, already knowing my efforts are futile.
Panicked, Ada reaches up to pry his hand from her, but Jack seizes it and wrenches it behind her back. She yelps.
I start towards them.
‘Stop.’ Jack’s voice is the low rumble of thunder.
I do as he says.
I look towards the front door. So close. So close to freedom I could sob. If I turned and ran now, he wouldn’t catch me. I’d be out the front door before he made it down the stairs. I’d race across the foyer, yank open the door and burst out into the night. I’d hide in the woods. He’d never find me in the dark. I could do it. I could run. My stomach clenches, fear mostly, then guilt for even thinking it, because I can’t leave Ada with him. She means no more to him than Noah did; she is merely an obstacle to be violently and permanently removed. He’ll murder her. He’ll do it just to punish me.
‘Run,’ Ada gurgles.
I pull my gaze away from the door and back up towards Ada and Jack.
He squeezes, cutting off her air. She claws at the hand crushing her windpipe.
‘Stop,’ I shriek. ‘Stop!’
She is turning red.
‘JACK!’
In his expression is pure, inarticulate fury. The veins in his arm bulge. He’s going to snap her neck.
‘Please,’ I beg.
Her eyes roll back. She stops clawing his hand; hers falls limply to her side.
‘I’ll leave with you!’ I shout.
He continues to crush her throat, just to let me know he still holds all the power. Finally, his grip loosens. Ada coughs and splutters and gags. In his eyes, ones locked unfailingly on mine, I see a promise of revenge. ‘Come up here,’ he commands.
For a moment, I don’t move. Can’t. I stare at the hand clamped around my sister’s neck. It is the same hand that held my wrists hostage above my head on the hill, the same fingers which pushed into the dryness of my body even as I pleaded with him to let me go.
‘Now,’ he growls, giving Ada a sharp shake.
She whimpers.
My chest hollows and fills, hollows and fills.
First, I force one foot, then the other, until I am climbing up the stairs towards them. It’s the longest walk of my life; I wear fear as a pair of iron boots, and try desperately to think of a way out of this, to save Ada, to save myself, but panic fogs my thoughts.
As I near them, I swear I smell smoke.
Ada’s eyes are wild and streaming. She’s still coughing. She wants me to run and she’s angry I haven’t. But how could I abandon her, knowing it would mean the end of her life?
Jack drags Ada back a couple of steps to let me pass. I’m careful not to make any sudden movements as I do; it would take only a second for him to break her neck. As I edge backwards on the landing, I hold my hands up in a show of surrender. If this was a film, Ada and I would exchange a look and in the one, fleeting second of eye contact, we’d have a plan. We’d work together to take him down. But this isn’t a film. The fact is, Jack is bigger and stronger, and Ada is firmly in his grasp. I could rush him but not before he tosses her down the stairs or crushes her windpipe. The only advantage we have over him is that he doesn’t know the police are on their way. If I can keep him talking …
I swallow thickly, under layers of panic, and find my voice but it’s shakier than my legs. ‘Just let Ada go and then we can pack a bag and leave together. You and me. We’ll go to New Zealand just like you said.’
Jack is sweating, breathing heavily, his bare chest heaving. He looks barbaric. This close, I see blood matted in his blond curls, little rivers of scarlet running from his temple. In the hard granite of his face, I see a fire raging within him.
‘Once Ada is gone, we can start our new lives together,’ I say in placating tones. This strikes a chord with Jack, who appraises me with interest and maybe a thread of understanding. I’m getting through to him. He’s weighing up his options. I’m offering him what he wants: me. Willingly. It’s all he’s ever wanted. ‘If you let Ada g—’ I stop myself, knowing if I push this point too hard, he will buck against it. Jack doesn’t like to be told what to do. Thinking fast, I backtrack, reword. ‘We can pack a bag … or … or not, we can buy new things. We can get in your car right now and go, just the two of us; it doesn’t matter where, as long as we’re together. You and me. It’s all I want,’ I lie. ‘Come on, Jack.’ I smile like we are lovers planning a trip. ‘How far will you go?’
I hold my breath, waiting for him to decide. Seconds bleed into minutes. Sweat collects in the hollow of my collarbone.
‘Okay,’ he says simply, releasing Ada’s arm from behind her back.
The relief is treacle-thick and so sweet, I get a head-rush: he’s going to let her go. I, on the other hand, have committed the rest of my life to a murderer if the police don’t get here soon. This realisation is a chaser so bitter, I feel sick.
‘You’re right.’ His voice is buttery smooth and eerily calm. ‘We’re going to leave. Just us two. Change our names.’
Ada opens her mouth to argue but I give her a look, imploring her to keep quiet before she gets herself killed.
‘You’re right, Fray.’ His smile is the last swirl of sunlight before an eclipse, when everything goes dark. And my heart beats so fast in response, it might shake me to death. ‘With Ada gone, we can start over.’
I’m repeating his words, trying to work out the wrongness of them. I’m not prepared for his quickness. In one, swift movement, he pulls the knife from his jeans pocket, flips it open and thrusts it into Ada’s back.
She arches.
Agony and fear and shock. I see it all on her face.
The sound she makes is horrid – gurgling like an emptying drain.
I cannot scream. Cannot breathe.
Cannot save my sister.
Jack flings her down the stairs with bone-breaking force. I hear her tumble from top to bottom, landing with a dull thud.
In his face is thrill and satisfaction, but no remorse. Not even a drop.