Dear God, I think I’ve killed him.
The need to get as far away from him as possible is almost overwhelming but I know my body is beginning to shut down. Whatever Tom put in my drink is taking its toll. I grab the broken cup and once again fill it with water and salt. I force myself to drink it. To gulp it down. It’s disgusting and my throat wants to close, to spit it back out, but I refuse to give in. And then, my stomach convulses and I’m throwing up. It looks like blood as the red-wine vomit splatters the sink. I repeat the process with some more water and salt and my stomach burns as I throw up for a second time.
I remember being told when the girls were little that if they were ever to ingest any bleach or something like that, to give them milk to line their stomach and stop it being absorbed into the bloodstream. I have no idea if this is right or not, but I snatch open the fridge and grab a plastic bottle of green-top milk from the door. I gulp down as much of the milk as I can, not wanting to cause myself to throw up any more.
I step over Tom and, as I do so, he groans and puts out his hand. I scream as his fingertips touch my ankle and I stumble out into the hallway. I look back through the doorway and Tom is pulling himself up onto all fours. He lifts his head and our eyes lock. For a moment, I’m static. Unable to think. Unable to move.
He shakes his head, like a dog who has got hold of a toy in its jaws, and putting one hand up on the breakfast-bar stool, hauls himself to his feet. He rubs the side of his head. ‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,’ he says.
The sound of his voice snaps me out of the trance I’m in. My survival instinct kicks in and I’m racing down the hallway, through the living room and out onto the landing before I can even think straight. I hammer at the button to call the lift, but looking up at the numbers I can see that the lift is on the ground floor.
‘Clare! Wait!’ Tom is out on the landing, his hand to his head, his other holding onto the doorframe. ‘Don’t go. We need to talk. We can sort this out.’
‘No, Tom, it’s too late.’ I’m too scared to cry but I know my heart is breaking inside. I turn and push open the door to the emergency exit. Momentum carries me through and I’m on a small metal fire escape on the outside of the building. My body crashes into the rail, tipping me forwards. I scream. I think I’m going to fall, but I manage to hold on tight to the rail with my one good hand. I push myself back to safety.
Rain is lashing at my face, made stronger by the fierce wind of the storm. My hand skims across the water that is sitting on the handrails as I thunder down the steps, the fresh air bringing a new sense of awareness to me. My feet work fast as I try to put as much distance as I can between myself and Tom. I’m on the second floor when I hear the crash of the fire-escape door above me. I hear Tom call my name, but the words are whipped away by the wind and then I feel the vibration of his feet on the rungs and the dull thud of his steps as he too belts down the staircase.
I reach the path below and for a moment I’m not sure which way to go. I’m in an alleyway at the rear of the property. I’ve lost my sense of direction. To my left is blackness, to my right the glow of the street lighting calls me. I’m running down the alleyway, trying to keep my plastered arm as close to my body as possible to avoid jolting it so much. The pain is shooting up my forearm and through my shoulder, but I ignore it. All I can think about is getting away.
As I reach the end of the alleyway and burst out onto the street, I don’t wait to look behind me. The street is empty, the storm keeping everyone inside where it’s dry and safe. I don’t think I’m going to be able to outrun Tom. He’s a fitness fanatic and running is his thing. I need to hide from him. I run to the end of the street, pausing for only a second to look behind me. The dark, shadowy figure of Tom looms after me.
I can see the seafront ahead and I charge that way. My hair slashes at my face where it has come loose from the ponytail and the strength of the wind coming in off the sea almost knocks me off my feet. I hurtle along the path, my foot slipping on a wet drain cover, which almost has me tumbling down into the gutter. A car blasts its horn as it drives past.
I wave my arm frantically. ‘Stop! Stop!’ It carries on, the red tail-lights disappearing out of sight.