“Hey! You have my word.”
As much as she hated him for what he’d done, Amelia still loved him. And if she threw their relationship away, she would be left with nothing. Georgina had Shane, who adored her and wouldn’t dream of cheating on her, while she had Kereama, who couldn’t keep his in his pants. So, not only did Georgina have the looks and talent, she also had the doting, gorgeous boyfriend. Life sucked! “Come on, bedtime.”
She helped him upstairs to their bedroom, where he sat and started taking off his clothes. She’d redressed his wound earlier. He would be having the stitches out the following afternoon, and she agreed to drive him there and back. And as she began her bedtime rituals, she thought about how unfair life could be. Even Isla had a better life than she did. Sure, Oliver was an idiot, a joker, and she didn’t understand what her bodybuilder friend liked about him, but he didn’t cheat on her.
In the bathroom, she wiped her make-up off, moisturised and brushed her teeth. When Kereama came in, he relieved himself. “Why do you always have to do that when I’m in here?” she snapped.
“What? I’m only having a piss.”
Turning back to the sink, she continued brushing her teeth, listening to him mumble. Amelia spat out the toothpaste and placed the brush in its mug.
She kicked herself for not braving up to him sooner, for not acting on the rumours the previous year. At first she didn’t believe that her gorgeous guy would betray her. Why would he want anyone else? The envy of half a million followers, women everywhere wanted to be her, to look like her, to live her beach babe lifestyle. And then there were the guys. After every cheep she put out on Chatter, a flood of compliments from blokes all over the world gave her the confidence she craved. Most were in English, yet some comments were in Spanish, German, French; she had some in Arabic and Chinese, too.
So, why then, did Kereama feel he needed to cheat on her? They had an active, bold, and interesting sex life; he didn’t go without. Amelia was adventurous in that respect, having initiated it on the Metro one time, and in a nightclub’s men’s toilet cubicle.
In their bedroom, she changed into her bedwear, a long T-shirt that went down to her knees, and fussed about with her hair in front of her mirror. Kereama lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She wondered what he was thinking: probably about some tall, leggy black girl on a train, Amelia thought, fixing her hair. She chided herself.
“Oh shit! We forgot to lock up.”
Getting up, she said she would go. He would take ages hobbling down the stairs; it made more sense her locking up.
Darling Point was one of the safest neighbourhoods in Sydney, she’d been told by the estate agent, which, after Georgina’s ordeal, was why they’d chosen a three-bedroomed house there. And she fell in love with her new home on sight, badgering Kereama into liking it as well. After a painful two weeks of nagging him, she managed to force him to relent. The next day they put an offer in. Residents locked their doors only at night, before they went to bed, and sometimes forgot. Yeah, she adored her house and the neighbourhood. Having Isla around the corner, and Georgina in the next suburb over made it home, the icing on top of a delicious cake. Life didn’t get better than this, she often said to herself, although not so much after hearing of Kereama’s extra-curricular activities.
Downstairs, knowing she had secured the back door, she headed to the inner door to the porch, which remained unlocked because they locked the outer door at night. A door inside the porch led to the double garage. It was unlocked. Stepping inside the garage, she checked the metal door was secure. How long had it been unlocked for?
Amelia walked back upstairs and found Kereama under the covers snoring. She would have a few words with him about not locking the garage in the morning. Instead of waking him, she pulled the covers back and slid in beside him.
After putting her earplugs in, Amelia lay on her side and closed her eyes, too pumped to drift off. Her brain fired in a thousand directions. Had she brought this on herself? Had she made him cheat on her? Without him acknowledging his behaviour, how would she ever know? And she couldn’t blame the other women for finding him attractive.
Attempting to remain optimistic, Amelia told herself she still had her modelling contracts, and she didn’t need to work a day job, ever. She got paid to post cheeps on Chatter. How many people could boast that? So, if everything went south with him, she would be fine. And her next bloke might be a vast improvement on Kereama.
He fidgeted a lot. The mattress moved. “Stop fidgeting, Kerry,” she scolded, not bothering to turn over. “Go to sleep, for Christ’s sake.”
He grunted next to her.
Ignoring his noises, Amelia tried to fall asleep, closing her eyes and letting her body relax. Kereama still fidgeted.
“Ames,” she thought she heard, “run.”
Turning on her back, she opened her eyes to find a shadow hovering above him.
It took a couple of seconds for her brain to register what was happening.
“Run, baby.”
The shadow fought with her boyfriend.
It had something in its hand, a weapon, long and sharp.
The weapon, thin and pointy had a handle.
Amelia saw him grappling with the intruder, one hand around his neck, the other clutching one of Shadow’s wrists.
Shadow was choking Kereama.
An ice pick – Shadow held an ice pick.
She gasped when Kereama yelled out.
The ice pick opened his cheek up in a torrent of crimson.
And Shadow’s arm went up and down, each time striking at her lover’s face.
She screamed at all the blood.
Curled up in a ball, unable to move, time seemed to slow.
Kereama’s struggle with Shadow stopped abruptly and his arms fell by his side, his body limp.
When Shadow yanked the ice pick from Kereama’s eye, she knew her boyfriend was dead.
Amelia screamed.
Upon seeing Shadow – Elf Man – every paralysed part of her body moved.
She whipped back the covers and flew from the bed towards the door, closely followed by her assailant.
There were footsteps right behind her.
Her feet barely touched the carpeted stairs.
As fast as she was, Elf Man kept up with her.
When she saw the inner porch door, she remembered locking it.
A sharp stabbing pain hit her in the centre of her back.
Amelia almost face-planted, something wedged in her back.
Reaching behind her, she felt a handle: a knife.
Upon realising this, her breathing laboured, she tasted the coppery warm blood filling up her mouth.
Screaming – or rather gargling blood – a foot pinned her to the floor. Then an immense pain wracked her body as her attacker pulled out the blade. “No! Please, I don’t want to die.”
Elf Man rolled her over.
Knowing she was dying, blood pooling beneath her, she stared up at Elf Man, who mounted her and sat on her stomach, a satisfied smile slapped over his ugly face. She now knew what he looked like: awful wiry dark hair, pale complexion and horrible thin lips, just like Georgina’s mum had said. “Please, don’t do this.”
“Not so cocky now, are you, Ames?” Elf Man pointed the blade at her from above. “You talentless bitch! You think you’re too good to be my friend? You know, you might be beautiful on the outside, but you’re so ugly on the inside.”
Pure hatred in his stare, his eyes black holes, she gasped when he put the knife to her neck.
Amelia breathed in, as though the act itself would protect her.
And then the cold metal blade sliced into her skin when Elf Man yanked to his right, tearing a gash in her throat.
With every breath came panic; she couldn’t breathe. If the blood loss didn’t kill her, the asphyxiation would. Her eyes grew heavier with every passing second.
28
Georgina finished her reps with the dumb-bells and replac
ed them in their rack, next to the larger bells Shane used. Unlike Isla, she didn’t want to gain muscle; she liked her body toned and slim. Her workout intensive, sweat clung to her vest and joggers.
After showering and changing into a bikini, she walked downstairs, leaving Shane getting ready for his day. In the kitchen, she forced herself to eat a bowl of porridge and drink a glass of orange juice. “Do you want some OJ?” she bellowed up the stairs, glancing at the front door. No reply came from upstairs. The door ajar, she thought maybe he came downstairs without her hearing.
“Babe?” she said, poking her head outside.
Nothing. Not on the driveway, or on the lawn, a pang of fear hit her. Back inside, after closing the door, she returned to the stairs. He appeared. “Have you been out this morning?”
“What’re you talking about? You saw me in bed just now.”
“So, you mean to tell me the front door was open all night?” His expression changed to disbelief. “I came down just now and it was ajar. So, unless you were out there this morning, it was left open all night.”
Shane walked past her and inspected the door. “It’s shut, look,” he said, turning to her. “I didn’t forget to close it last night. At least I don’t think I did.”
“Which means you did forget. Bloody hell, you know he’s still out there. I know you were wasted last night, and maybe I should’ve locked up, but we can’t afford to get complacent.” Her stalker had gone quiet. Since Tuesday’s scare with her parents, she had not made contact with him, or Amelia, come to think of it.
“I’m sorry! I don’t know what happened,” Shane said. “It won’t happen again, I promise.” He came in and hugged her, as if trying to get her to forgive him.
She never could stay mad at him for long. “Please don’t forget in future,” she pleaded to his nod. “He’s gone quiet on us, but he’s still out there, I know he is.” And with that, she forgave him, letting him wolf his breakfast down before he had to leave for work. He had to get to Sydney Cricket Ground for the first official day of training.
Sat outside on the decking scrolling through her messages on Chatter, the sun already bright and strong, she thought about Amelia, and how she hadn’t seen her for a few days, since Tuesday afternoon. Hearing the pool calling her, the water enticing, she typed a text message to her best friend. “Hey! You still around? Miss you.” Amelia texted her, or Isla, most days, at least every other day. “Your turn,” she mumbled.
Stood on the edge of the pool, she bent over slightly and dived in. The water magnificent, even at nine o’clock in the morning, she swam. Swimming was her favourite form of exercise, bar surfing of course. It hands down beat going to the gym, or running; she only took part in them because she liked the variety.
Treading water, her elbows resting on the edging tiles, Georgina heard her text ringtone. Hoisting herself out of the pool, she walked over to the table, picked up her towel in one hand and her phone in the other. After opening her text reply from Amelia and placing her mobile on the table, she started drying herself while reading it. “Hey! I’m fine. Been busy with modelling contracts,” she read out loud. “We’ve gone away for a few days, you know why.”
Why the hell would she take off now? What a time to up and leave her! “You bitch!” An inner rage boiled inside. “Where are you?” she typed.
The reply came back promptly. “Up north.” Not terribly informative, the north a vast area. Why wouldn’t her best friend tell her? Wanting to speak to her, Georgina picked up her phone and dialled Amelia’s number. Straight through to voicemail. “Yeah, it’s me,” she said, her tone confrontational. “Where the hell are you? I can’t believe you’ve just taken off like this and didn’t at least tell me first. You’re supposed to be my best friend. Thanks a lot!”
Anger made her jab at her mobile to hang up. For once, she welled up, the thought that Amelia could desert her like this almost too much to bear. Wiping her face, she picked up her phone and sent a text to Isla informing her of Amelia’s disappearance. “Just like her; she’s so selfish”, came the response.
Sitting back down, Georgina opened Chatter and looked up Amelia. Scrolling through her account, the last cheep her friend posted was on Tuesday afternoon, a picture of her wearing a bikini in her back garden. She thought Amelia must have taken the photo after the drama at her parents’ house. And she looked amazing, radiant, tanned, sexy. “Three days,” she said, scrolling through Amelia’s thousand plus pictures.
The longest her tanned friend had gone without uploading a cheep, looking now, was two days. And sometimes her friend would send two or three cheeps in a twenty-four-hour period, especially at the weekends. Too early to freak out, she may be having troubles with Kereama, she thought, exiting the app.
The time on her phone: approaching ten o’clock. With hours to kill before she was due to meet Mingzhu at Bondi Beach, she got up and wandered over to one of the sun loungers by the poolside, spreading her large towel out.
Attaching headphones to her mobile, Georgina opened Spotify and shuffled her mixed playlist, which consisted mostly of heavy bands, like Pantera, Avenged Sevenfold, System of a Down, Disturbed, and of course The Deranged. And a couple of tracks she liked by Kereama’s band, The Savage Seeds.
With the sun turning her an even darker brown, she couldn’t help thinking about her supposed best friend. How could she desert her now? Amelia should be begging for her forgiveness, not running off at the first sign of trouble. Even the heavy guitar riffs of The Deranged couldn’t drown out Georgina’s disappointment. “You can just rack off!” she said to Amelia, opening her eyes.
She sat up suddenly, a foreign shape at the top of her wall made her take note.
Perching her shades on the tip of her nose, she squinted.
The object moved, then disappeared behind the wall.
Terrified, she grabbed her phone and flew from the sun lounger into her house, sliding the glass door across and locking it. Elf Man was outside. How long had he been there? Had he spied on her swimming? She shuddered at the thought.
Safe now that he couldn’t reach her inside, she glanced through the glass, curious to see if he remained, or if he ran off. Even more, she wanted to see his face.
A mop of dark hair appeared by her tree, the only one in her garden. Through the razor wire, she made out a head. Even with perfect vision his features were blurred, although she could see he had a pale, almost ghostly, complexion. “We’re gonna get you, you mongrel,” she whispered, wanting to take a photo.
He watched her through the glass.
Georgina felt his stare boring into her.
She shouldn’t be standing there in only a bikini, she thought, stepping sideways and hiding behind a curtain.
Elf Man was out there. Turning, she looked for her bag. “Shit!” Having her pocket pistol nearby made her feel safe. Slowly, she made her way into the kitchen, reaching inside her bag and retrieving her gun, which had a full magazine inserted and the safety on.
A text message awaited her attention, she noted. “Sorry about last night, by the way. Think I might’ve left the front door open. Soz.”
She almost dropped the phone.
“Had a fantastic night, though. You were such a gracious host. Lol.” The messages kept flowing in, too fast for her to cope with. How did he have her mobile number? He’d been messaging her via the Chatter app up until now. How did he know the door was open overnight?
Unless… Unless… She didn’t want to say it out loud.
Unless he was inside this house!
“You were so accommodating. And you’re so sweet when you’re asleep.”
Panic took over. Georgina picked up her bag, put the handle over her shoulder and ran for the front door. Her hands shaking, she rummaged around for her keys, found them and fumbled for the right one. Finding the correct key, she unlocked the door and ran out to her Jeep, the keys in one hand and her pistol in the other. The gun she kept raised and pointed at the front door.
With the gates opening automatically, Georgina reversed her Jeep out of her driveway, turning until she was at the right angle to drive straight. She pressed her thong on the accelerator. The text messages were still pinging through. Each time she heard the tone, she jumped, dreading what they would say.
She couldn’t hear anything, just her heartbeat. Georgina glanced at her mobile on the passenger seat. With one hand on the steering wheel, she reached across and put it in her lap.
“Damn you, Shane! Pick up, please.” She pulled up behind a Ford of some description. A drop of sweat landed on the screen of her phone. She wiped her forehead with her wrist.
She needed to speak to Shane.
29
“You’re all gonna have to do much better than that if you want to win the league this year!” Shane shouted, his breathing laboured from so much running. The first day back after Christmas and the New Year and he had to confess to being out of shape. The blazing sun didn’t help either, although he was glad his side were skins and not shirts. “Let’s run the play again, and this time get it right, for Christ’s sake. I’m sick of us losing every season, aren’t you?”
Playing ruck rover – as to be ruckman he needed height – he handed the ball to his ruckman and turned to face his second-in-command’s ruck rover on the shirts’ side. Shane, the ruckman and rover were all followers, which meant they followed the ball around the pitch more than the other positions. They had to be in tip-top physical condition. As he got into position, he held the ball and caught their attention. “Are we going bring the cup home this season?”
A semi-enthusiastic chorus of yeses came from his team.
“My grandma can shout louder than that. Are we bringing it home this year?”
Mr Invisible Page 12
