Watch You Burn

by KA Richardson

  She looked up, half expecting to see its grey demonic face smiling down as it prepared to lob another conker. But apart from the autumn breeze rustling the branches, there was no movement.

  Moving carefully, she turned her gaze back towards Janelle.

  It would be easy, starting a fire at her house. She’d done some research and the houses on the street Janelle lived in had been built around the 1970s – council homes, so they’d been put up to a standard design. Most of them were heavily in need of some TLC – the electrics and kitchens were scheduled on the council plans to be redone over the next twelve months – that alone meant that the electrics were likely to be finicky. She’d seen the blueprints, gone over them with a fine tooth-comb in fact – it was all a matter of public record if you knew where to look. She knew her way around the house. She’d even been asking some pertinent questions of her lecturer at uni, who was only too glad to answer when he thought it was about her upcoming dissertation and was pleased she was doing some early research.

  Susie knew how she wanted to do it – I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll burn your house down. Smiling at the errant thought, a giggle escaped. The only thing she needed to figure out was how to be inside when she did it. She needed to see Janelle screaming and writhing in agony as the flames ravaged her body.

  Then the police would be telling the class the nightmare of Janelle’s reign was over, that they could all just get on with their lives without the torture and bullying – they’d realise they were wrong to accuse her of bullying Janelle.

  And Heather would understand more – she’d come back into the fold and be her friend again. She would apologise too – it wasn’t beneath her to admit when she was wrong, and picking on Heather earlier that morning had been plain nasty. It had made her almost as bad as Janelle. Heather had looked hurt as she walked off. And she had refused to answer any texts since.

  What if Heather doesn’t want to be friends anymore? What if… stopping her train of thought, she knew she already had the answer to that. If Heather didn’t want to be friends anymore over one little spat, one argument that had been caused by Janelle in the long run, then she wasn’t worth the hassle either. If Heather wasn’t her friend, then it would make her an enemy. And she’d also pay for her betrayal in the same way Janelle was going to.

  Pulling her phone out, she typed in a text – ‘Talk to me, Heath, are we still friends? I’m sorry I was such a bitch.’ Before hitting send, she selected the option for a read receipt. If Heather couldn’t take a heartfelt apology, then she wasn’t worth anymore time.

  Knowing Janelle would be inside for some time, she put the phone back in her pocket, and left.

  4th October, 1940 hours – Heather’s residence

  Heather was on her own again – her mum had left for work that afternoon leaving Heather moping about the house. And boy had she moped – a family-sized bar of dairy milk had found its way down her throat, as well as a large bag of tortillas. She’d always been one for emotional eating: she was lucky she’d been blessed with the Blaze genes really, otherwise she’d have been the size of an elephant.

  The house felt too big, and too quiet. She’d already gone around and turned the lights on, and had music blaring from the TV in the living room. She was up to date on her uni work, couldn’t even research for the next project as it hadn’t been given yet. She’d been pottering about all afternoon – anything to stop her thinking about her spat with Susie and Chloe.

  She knew they were right: she should have told them about her and Glen sooner, but they’d both been complete bitches to her today. Heather felt guilty for not telling them but at the same time, she knew she’d been stressing about the friendship for a while anyway, wondering if they weren’t starting to drift apart and go their own ways. Maybe this was a sign that that was what was destined to happen.

  She put the kettle on – maybe a cup of tea would help. Definitely not coffee though – she was already wired enough. Her phone was plugged in in the kitchen and she saw the display light up as she turned to grab a cup. She saw she had several texts.

  Scanning them quickly, she paused, thinking of a response. Did she really want to still be friends? She put the phone back down and ignored it. I’ll reply later. We’ve been friends forever, it’s not easy just walking away. And if I just walk away, then that’ll be it. I really will be alone.

  Heather finished making her tea and wandered back through to the living room – pulling her legs up underneath her bum, she sat on the sofa with the hot mug snug in her hands. Is it that easy? Do people just walk away from friendships when they seem to fade like this?

  5th October, 0010 hours – Janelle’s residence

  Susie knew there was a chance she would be seen. It wasn’t late yet, not really, and people were still wandering up and down the estate. But she needed to be near Janelle, had to see how the bitch was coping. She wondered how Janelle would react when she saw her gift – wondered what she’d do with it, whether she realised the implication.

  Janelle’s mother had taken it in, all smiles and eyes glazed with alcohol, the sickly-sweet smell exuding from her very pores as she’d stood shakily on the doorstep. She had wanted to smash her face in there and then, and for no real reason. Tanya Spencer had been entirely pleasant as she’d stood listening to her talk about Janelle.

  Not realising what was in the box, she’d smiled and promised to take it straight upstairs to Janelle’s room.

  And she had waited, hiding out in her dad’s car. A kind of stakeout.

  Watching, waiting for Janelle to return and be given her present.

  It had been a stroke of genius, she knew: no normal person would have thought to do such a thing.

  But Janelle hadn’t come back, not yet.

  She sighed.

  She should have waited outside of the police station and followed Janelle. She could be anywhere. What if she never comes back and you can’t finish the plan?

  Inhaling sharply, she knew the pain in her chest was panic that she wouldn’t be able to finish what she’d started. Doubt had started creeping in, telling her mind that she couldn’t do it, that it wouldn’t work.

  It worked last time, though.

  ‘Yes but last time I didn’t need to stay and watch. This time I want to see the bitch burn.’

  Maybe you’ll just have to be content with killing her. Why do you need to watch? Freak.

  She shook her head, shaking off the argument she was having with herself. Now wasn’t the time for doubt – later, after it was over she could fill her mind with what ifs and maybes. Now she needed to act.

  And the first step in her plan was making sure Janelle got her gift.

  She couldn’t trust that Janelle’s alcoholic mother would pass it over.

  Maybe she’d have to rethink how she’d get it to Janelle, prepare another one.

  Janelle needed to believe that this was all about Glen and not about her. It was the only way she’d get the opportunity to carry out her plan, the only way she’d gain access to the house when she needed to. Writing the letter saying that Glen had been fucking Ryan’s girlfriend had been easy, sticking in the photo she’d taken one day when Kelly-Ann had leaned to whisper something to Glen one day at uni equally easy. It just happened that the image looked intimate, it wasn’t – Glen had never screwed Kelly-Ann to her knowledge, but the photo would cast doubt. She had photos of all them – it had been one of her coping mechanisms. Taking photos when no one knew they were being taken. And the other bits, well they were a stroke of pure genius. Designed to throw Janelle off the scent that it was about her and give her the information she needed to discover the person who was responsible.

  She smiled in the darkness – Heather.

  Heather hadn’t replied to her text earlier. She knew Heather read it seconds after receiving it. The read receipt had seen to that. Shagging Glen had somehow addled Heather’s brain, made her brain-washed or something. Heather would be putting it together. She knew she wou
ld be. She needed dealing with.

  So why not sic Janelle the bulldog on Heather and let her do the hard work.

  She could kill two birds with one stone.

  17

  ‘I’m really sorry, Kevin. I should have just picked it up last night. It didn’t even occur to me with everything going on,’ said Edina, referring to the work phone she’d left at her place the day before when Kevin had whisked her off to his house like a knight in shining armour.

  She’d felt a little strange at first, sleeping in his bed, Kevin’s warm body next to hers. But eventually she’d succumbed to sleep, and had slept deeper and more peacefully than she had at any point in the last year. She hadn’t realised how fed up she was, living in constant fear that someone was coming in her home, worrying whether Cam had really ceased all contact or whether he’d turn up at the drop of a hat. As it happened, it had been the latter.

  Ed was still a little in awe of how well Kevin had handled Cam outside her house – she’d never have thought to lie about something like that, had just panicked that he’d shown up at her door. She knew Kevin had restrained himself too, could see how much he’d wanted to thump Cam in his smug face. It gave her a tingly feeling, someone standing up for her like that.

  ‘I said it’s no problem, Ed. Don’t worry about it. You sure you’re OK me dropping you at the fire house? I should be finished by 6pm all being well; let’s hope nothing too major comes in. You want me to check the house before you go in? Or I can just grab the phone if you tell me where it is?’

  Ed felt her facial muscles tense – more than anything she wanted to let Kevin go inside. She hated the thought of going through the front door, let alone going upstairs to her bedroom – the room she was certain the person sneaking into her house had entered more than once. But she’d be damned if she was going to let some freak make her too afraid to go into her own house.

  ‘No, I’m good thanks, Kev. Would you mind just keeping the car window open though – if anything does happen, you can trust I’ll be screaming to high heaven. I need to do this.’

  Kevin frowned – he plainly didn’t like the idea of her going inside alone. ‘Maybe I should come in with you – I don’t like this, Ed.’

  ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll yell if I need you to come and rescue me.’ She leaned forward and kissed him, grateful he was there with her. Tasting the faint tang of coffee on his lips, and the even fainter hint of mint from his toothpaste, she almost changed her mind about going in at all. Reluctantly, she pulled back. ‘Hold that thought, I’d like to explore this in more detail later tonight,’ she added huskily, giving him a shy smile.

  With a confidence she didn’t feel, she strode up the path and opened the front door as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over the threshold, her senses on overdrive. But the house was silent. Her skin didn’t prickle and nothing appeared to be out of place. She went up the stairs and pushed open her bedroom door. The bed was made, everything was as she’d left it.

  Seeing her phone on the bedside cabinet, she made her way round the bed and reached out her hand.

  And that’s when she heard it.

  The soft creak of the floorboard on the landing.

  She froze – holding her breath until she felt her cheeks start to redden with the effort. Releasing it with a soft whoosh, she concentrated, listening for the slightest sound outside of the bedroom door, searching the gap beneath for movement, a shadow, anything that would indicate someone was there.

  ‘Come out, come out wherever you are.’ The soft voice drifted into the bedroom from under the door. Definitely male, and definitely not Cam. It sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her legs refused to move. Though quite where she would run she wasn’t sure.

  Realising her work phone was gripped tightly in her hand, she pressed the on button.

  She stilled as it played the power on melody – it was quiet, but still far too loud for her liking.

  She heard another creak on the landing and had to shove her hand over her mouth to stop the scream.

  Then there was a shuffle upstairs in the attic.

  Ed’s head was cocked to one side, listening hard for another sound even as she plugged in Kevin’s number with shaking fingers.

  Within seconds he was with her in the bedroom.

  ‘So you heard the creak on the landing and then what?’

  ‘Something upstairs, but I don’t know what. Maybe I’m being stupid Kevin, I’m not even sure now I didn’t imagine it all. It all happened so fast. God, I hate this house.’

  ‘You said you heard a whisper? What did he say?’

  ‘He was taunting me, saying come out come out wherever you are. This is ridiculous! I can’t do this anymore, Kevin. I’m a bloody nervous wreck.’

  Tears filled Ed’s eyes.

  ‘OK, this is what we’re going to do. I’m going to take your keys. I’m going to contact the POLSA team and see if I can’t get the sergeant over there to authorise a search of the house. I’ll be damned if this slippery little son-of-a-bitch is going to get back in again. If I have to rip up every floorboard in the place, we’ll find out how he’s getting in and stop him.’

  ‘Will they do that? I thought POLSA only conducted searches on offenders’ homes, or assisted with missing persons and whatnot?’

  ‘They do so much more than that. Besides, the sarge owes me a favour. You grab some clothes and whatever else you think you’ll need. I promise I’ll get this sorted out once and for all.’

  Ed kissed Kevin on the cheek. ‘Thank you. For believing me and not looking at me like I’m crazy. Which I may well be yet.’

  5th October, 0925 hours – Heather’s residence

  Heather had waved her mum off an hour before, telling her everything was OK, that she would be OK. But the truth was she felt far from alright.

  Mistakenly, Heather had thought after her mum had hugged Janelle whilst she cried, things would improve. But she’d seen the catty Facebook posts, the accusatory glances from the likes of Ryan and the other people from school. Even Susie and Chloe had avoided talking to her since she admitted the relationship to them – apart from the one text she’d had, anyway. She’d meant to reply, but every time her fingers went to type the reply, she found herself exiting the message inbox. She just didn’t have the energy to deal with either of them at present.

  Picking up her phone, she decided to call Ed: maybe speaking to her sister would help her feel less on edge. But it rang a few times then cut to voicemail – even my own sister doesn’t want to talk to me.

  Unable to control the urge this time, Heather made her way up to the en-suite adjacent to her room. She pulled the razor blade from its hiding place on top of the cabinet – the one blade she hadn’t been able to get rid of. She should have, knowing keeping it was just an invitation to use it again. But the thought of getting rid of it had made her shake, and she had no idea why. Heather held it between her fingers, staring at it intently. She didn’t know why it worked. Didn’t understand how hurting herself made her feel in control where other things didn’t.

  But right now, as disappointed as she knew her family would be, she couldn’t stop herself running the blade across her stomach, small cuts that leaked blood immediately.

  Breathing deeply, she felt the sting as she cut again. Tears were falling down her face, but she didn’t even notice them. The next cut went a little deeper, blood welling to the surface and immediately starting to run down her stomach towards the waistline of her trousers. Holding her left arm out, she wanted to plunge the blade in deep and drag it lengthways down to the bottom of her arm, knowing that the blood would spurt from her veins, eventually releasing her hold on this life.

  But she also knew she couldn’t do it. She loved her family too much to just end it all.

  Carefully, she put the blade back on top of the unit, and purposefully left the en-suite. Her notes on Glen’s murder w
ere strewn over the bed – they didn’t make a whole lot of sense but if she worked on them some more, maybe she’d see something she missed before. Reaching up, she took down the posters from her wall and started pinning her notes up. Maybe it would make more sense if it was all visible at once.

  5th October, 1005 hours – Janelle’s residence

  Janelle slammed the door shut with such force it reverberated around the whole house. Staying at Ryan’s overnight had been a complete waste of time – all he’d done was cry. He didn’t seem to care that they might be being targeted, didn’t even notice she’d gone there in one of her most revealing tops. Anything to make her feel something again. He’d eventually fallen asleep with his head in her lap, and she’d sat there for hours, listening to him snore without being able to fall asleep herself.

  She sighed deeply, resting her head against the front door. All she wanted to do was go to bed – but she’d been out all night and figured she’d have to check on her mum. It wasn’t supposed to be that way – her mum was supposed to look after her, not the other way around. Inhaling deeply in an effort to keep her cool, she pushed open the living room door.

  The first thing to hit her senses was the smell – cloyingly sweet, stale alcohol with an undertone of piss. Her mum was lying face down on the floor, a wet patch covering her backside and a pool of vomit around her open mouth. Her eyes were closed.

  Panicking now, Janelle knelt beside her mum, ignoring the cooling feeling of sick soaking into the knees of her jeans.

  ‘Mum?’ Her voice was quiet, scared. She shook her mum’s shoulders hard, before shouting ‘Mum,’ at her again. Pulling her mum over onto her back, she leaned forward and felt the brush of air on her cheek from her mum’s mouth.

  Relief burst through her as she shook her mum’s shoulders again. ‘Mum, wake up.’