I only had minutes left. I knew that, Beth. I had to make them count.
Up on my feet I jumped, pelting straight out across the marsh. The ground firm at first, as I crashed through long, soft grass, giving way to low, coarse blades. Next was springy vegetation, up around my calves, trying to trip me up. The land got wetter. I slipped off a hummock, ankle turning, but kept going, the full moon lighting my way.
Must get away!
A splash of water as I hit boggy ground, feeling the ground sink beneath me in other parts. But I was swift, too swift for the sucking mud to grab me.
Still not swift enough, though.
There were footsteps behind me. Rapid, wheezing breath. Glenn had longer legs than me, and a killer instinct.
I forced myself to go faster. I was no gym bunny, but the endless walking of the past weeks had made me stronger and fitter. I carried less weight. And fear for my unborn child lent me wings, despite the headwind coming from the ocean trying to hold me back.
Throat burning with effort. Adrenaline pushing me forward. The ground was more uneven now, the hummocks twisting my ankles. I couldn’t see clearly enough to leap from one to the other; all I could do was run, despite the pain. Ahead of me, the sea looked like mercury in the distance, out on the mudflats.
I ran for my life. I ran for my child’s. I ran for Jacob. I ran for you, Beth.
The footsteps, the breathing, they were catching up. Then fingers of steel would grab me. Choke the life from me. I would look up at the huge, remorseless sky, and it would be the last thing I would ever see.
Just a little bit further. Please, just a few more seconds of life.
Any. Minute. Now.
I hit a hummock; flew into the air, limbs flailing. Landed with a thud, helpless on the cold ground, the breath knocked from me. Twisting where I lay, I looked up into Glenn’s face. The friendly mask was gone, replaced with something as hard as metal in the cold moonlight.
‘Argh!’ I heard a cry of shock and pain.
Glenn had disappeared. Tumbled into a hidden creek. He gave a second roar, only the top of his head showing. I lay frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from his hands grasping at the vegetation as he tried to pull himself up. Another agonised yowl echoed high into the air, but the wind caught it before it could reach the unflinching moon.
I crawled forward, panting. Glenn’s enraged eyes met mine. He looked like a rat caught in a trap. He lashed out, but he couldn’t reach me.
He was in the creek you had led me to the other day, Beth. The one with the rusted oil drum and the barbed wire at the bottom of it. The one I almost fell into myself, until the egret you sent flew up and stopped me.
Glenn’s eyes changed as he looked at me.
‘Help me. My leg’s trapped,’ he gasped. He bent down, pulling desperately at his leg. When his hands came up again they were black with blood in the monochrome landscape. It trickled down his arm.
‘Look! I’m bleeding! Mel, please… I know you’re in a mess right now. Your life is falling apart, and that’s why you lashed out at me for no reason. You scared me when you ran. I thought you were going to hurt yourself – that’s why I came after you. Please, you have to help me.’
He pleaded, confusion clouding his soft features.
‘Your leg’s gone right through the rusted drum?’
‘Yeah, it’s—’ He looked down, gasped in horror and pain. ‘Oh God, it’s bad, Mel. The metal’s slashed me almost to the bone.’
My smiled reply was as brilliant and cold as the sky above me. There were tears in his eyes.
‘Come on, Mel.’
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
‘Call for help. You’re not a killer. You’re not cruel. You’re better than this.’
Was he right, Beth? I thought about my life and everything that had brought me to this point. All the laughter and warmth and good things I had enjoyed, thanks to you. And how all that had been stolen from me by a silly argument, so silly that Chloe couldn’t even remember the details properly. I thought about how much that hurt; the supernova of pain that had now whited out everything else in my life. Then I thought about the secrets, the lies and deception of everyone around me – and the biggest liar of all, Glenn. He had done so much evil, of that I was absolutely certain.
Any minute now. The countdown was almost done.
I sidestepped away from Glenn, then peered over the edge of the creek. His leg did look terrible. The gash flapped wide and gaping, and with each tiny shift of his body, the metal sawed further into flesh. His other leg was tangled in barbed wire.
‘You’re stuck fast. There’s nothing I can do.’
‘You can call an ambulance!’
I patted my pockets, then held my hands out, palms open. ‘Left my phone at home.’
‘Bitch. You fucking bitch!’
One Hundred Five
‘Bitch. You fucking bitch!’
I spat the words with fury. When I got out of the creek – and I would, eventually – I was going to make her pay. It wouldn’t be a fast kill. I’d torture her, like I’d done with the animals and birds I’d trapped as a kid.
Just you wait, Melanie Oak.
I must have instinctively leaned forward towards my intended target. The metal sawed deeper into my flesh, jarring against bone. The pain! I was wild with it, couldn’t bite back the screams.
Somehow I found the inner steel to still myself. I didn’t need Melanie to call for help; I would do it myself. My feverish hands ran over my body.
No, no, no…
My phones weren’t in my coat pockets. Neither of them. What the hell?
The agony of my right leg formed a vice for my mind. My calm control was shredded; pain was all I could think of. I shook my head. I needed to keep it together. Assess my situation calmly.
With only the light of the moon to see by, it was hard to get an exact idea of what was going on. Although I couldn’t see, it felt as if the skin had been sheared from the front of the leg as it had plummeted through the rusted oil drum. I kept thinking of the cakes in Ursula Clarke’s café, with their curled shavings of chocolate on top, and imagining my flesh now looked the same. Far worse, there was a massive gash across the inside of my thigh that was impossible to miss. When I plunged through the metal, it had sliced into me as deep as a butcher’s cleaver. With each beat of my heart, a traitorous pump of blood soaked the material of my trousers.
I needed medical help. Fast.
I forced my mask back on and gave Melanie an innocent, bewildered look.
‘I’m sorry I swore, Mel. But I’m scared… and I think you’re having a breakdown; it’s the only explanation for your behaviour.’ Tears started to fall. ‘I’m begging you, call for help. Come on, Mel, after everything I’ve done for you!’
I knew she would give in to her weak, finer feelings and get me help. And once I was back to full strength, I would make her pay and pay and pay for this.