by Janet Preece
Published by GorgeousMovies Ltd
© 2021 Janet Preece, London.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or modified in any form, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
ISBN: 9798702001388 (paperback)
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
For my children Daniel, Harry & Charlie – don’t worry,
I’m not as mad as I pretend to be!
*winks*
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Biography: Janet Preece
Prologue
She clawed through the dark at the closed door, bashing, screaming, gasping for breath, her lungs threatening to give out before she could make herself heard.
‘Open the door! What are you doing? Come back! Open the door! This isn’t funny! Open the fucking door!’
Those words, her words, were but a distant memory; a recalled hallucination of the moment it had all began; full of confusion. Her pleading voice was now an empty husk, raspy with exhaustion, her body numb to the futility of it all.
Straining to hear above the screaming in her mind, she fell silent. She’d given up asking why in the early days, when the burning agony filled her body, her nails torn from their cuticles. The frantic panic of her first attempts to escape the prison.
That was then.
Now, she prayed in the dark and flinched each time she heard a rustling.
Lifeless, she dropped to the floor.
Starvation had taken its toll, her muscles wasting away, bone protruding through her fleshless legs. As she lay her head down, cheek pressed against the cool stone floor, her eyes flickered closed; the sweet release. In and out of consciousness she drifted, smiling now and then as the warm bodies brushed against her, softly tickling her face.
Her eyelids remained closed. Finally, the end had come. All the suffering became a distant memory as periods of unconsciousness lasted longer and longer – until a new level of pain, one she never thought possible, arrived to take over. More horrifying than all the days before, in total darkness, fresh screams bombarded her ears, agony searing as her remaining flesh was clawed from her body…
Blissfully unaware, Julie slept on peacefully. She heard nothing. She dreamed of returning to her family but couldn’t quite reach out to the voices that called for her. Tommy’s warm embrace brought her back.
Back to a reality she wasn’t ready to face…yet.
Chapter One
It was pitch-black as Julie battled her way through the dark to the bathroom, desperate for the toilet but not wanting to wake the kids. She had successfully managed the witching hour, the prolonged agony of ‘I wants’, and got them all down to sleep. There was no way she was going to reverse all that hard work.
What’s that noise? She froze still, listening. Nothing, nothing, nothing, she told herself repeatedly, but even so, she reached for the light switch as she stepped into the bathroom, just in case. Nobody’s there, obviously – it’s all in your imagination. But she couldn’t quite shrug off the fear of possibility. What if there was?
Julie Summers was afraid of pretty much everything, and midnight toilet breaks were just one of the many trials that came with being a mother of three. She’d lie in bed willing herself back to sleep on a nightly basis but would eventually have to haul her exhausted body up, make a quick dash across the two steps to the bathroom and turn the light on fast. Anything could be lurking in the dark.
‘Hey, Julie, what’s all that banging?’ Dan called from the bedroom. ‘You’ll wake the kids! Do you really need the big light on?’
Julie scowled as she washed her hands. ‘What about you shouting the house down?’ she grumbled back under her breath. Why did her husband try to control her every move? Save the rules for our kids, she screamed silently, biting her tongue. God knows, they need them.
Even with the light on, she couldn’t look up at the mirror; at the horrors that hid behind the glass in the dead of night. Trapped between life and death, hidden faces waited to take revenge on the living. She tried to hurry up, not bothering to dry her hands after a quick token wash, mentally preparing herself for the run back to her bedroom and the darkness after she reached for the light-pulley.
‘Dan…? Dan?’ she whispered to no response. Why couldn’t he speak to her now, when she needed it? He wasn’t so quick to get involved when she wanted to hear his voice, his reassurance he was there and had been guarding their safe haven for her return. ‘Dan, stop messing about. Where are you?’ She climbed into bed and felt for his body, but it wasn’t there. ‘Oh, God, Dan, please don’t! This isn’t funny!’
She jumped up again, heart pounding, and turned the light on, trying to locate him while squinting her eyes against the violation to her pupils. Floaters blurred her vision. Dan knew of her anxiety, knew the pain it caused her and the inner struggle she fought on a daily basis, yet he continued to aggravate the situation as if he didn’t care, as if he was enjoying her turmoil. He was nowhere to be seen, but she was convinced his voice had come from the bedroom only moments before. Where was he? Why couldn’t he act like a normal husband? At the very least, turn over and ignore her? She had accepted his reduced affection over the years as a marital norm, but his actions were slowly becoming tinged with scorn, coaxing her, punishing her – for what reason, she couldn’t fathom. She had tried to juggle her role as a good wife and mother, but it was so hard to get it right. If there even was a ‘right’.
Great, he’s probably gone downstairs, she thought, but why would he do that in the middle of the night? Did he hear an intruder? Her pulse raced as she strained her ears to listen, but there was no sound. Maybe he was lying on the floor in a blood bath, hacked to pieces while the killer made his way silently into their kids’ bedrooms. She shivered as her imagination went into overdrive: the intruder with the appetite of a vampire, devouring each child one by one, attacking with superhuman strength…before he came for her. She would be left till last to experience the dread, feel the pain, the heart-wrenching loss of her family. A meaningless act carried out purely because it was the middle of the night.
Julie hovered by the door wondering how long she would have to wait for Dan to appear, unwilling to humour the images she told herself repeatedly were the p
roduct of an overactive imagination.
There’s nobody there, no threat. Breathe through it. In through your nose, out through your mouth… He’s just gone for some water, or maybe one of the kids woke up, and he’s seeing to them.
Statistically, what would be more likely? But then, there was always the unlucky minority. An image of the local Facebook group came to mind, strangers arguing over night-time burglaries while families slept; vulnerable innocents seeking advice on social media inadvertently alerting their would-be-attackers to weaknesses in their alarm systems and hidden gems within. She tried to shrug off the screaming voices in her head that shouted and argued with each other.
‘Pull yourself together, Julie,’ she whispered.
Then, a noise from somewhere in the room.
What was that?
It was nothing. Work through it.
Sweating and clammy, she took control, her body going through the motions as she closed the door behind her so she would know if they entered – Dan, or something more sinister.
Climb into bed, leave the light on. Just get in and wait.
Julie pulled the duvet up to her chin, feeling more secure now only her face was visible. She wasn’t brave enough to turn off the light, so instead, she watched the clock, concentrated on the ticking, and blocked out everything else in the room with hypnotic focus, willing the night to pass or Dan to return, whichever came first.
As her anxiety grew by the minute, she reached out to grab her Kindle, hoping it might refocus her mind. The novel she was reading was not ideal. For someone scared of pretty much everything, Julie was still drawn to thrillers. They were like self-medication to help desensitise her fears and a break from the daily grind that was her life. She tried to focus on the words, finding herself re-reading the same line over and over, but she took nothing in.
‘Julie…’
The tiny warped sound interrupted her thoughts. She sat up and looked around but saw nothing. Had she imagined it?
Then, again: ‘Julie…’ It came from inside the room.
She leapt out of bed, a chill spreading over her, hairs prickling her body, right up into her scalp. It wasn’t Dan.
Now was a time for prayers. Whatever happened next would be down to the God her convent school had insisted was constantly there watching over her. Strike them down, dear Lord. You, the maker of all things, the provider and the punisher, keep me safe.
‘Julie?’ This time, there was a hint of irritation; the voice cleared as if coming into focus, humanising itself. It was definitely a man. Hiding behind the curtains?
She crawled out of bed like a creature of the living dead and reached out a scrawny, ice-cold hand towards the thick paisley velvet. Just one quick pull and I’ll know the answer. The silent countdown began as she willed her body to move and locate the tormentor. If it was Dan, she would never forgive him, yet she longed for it to be him. How could he do this to her, knowing how anxious she was?
Deep breaths.
She could feel the panic rising to the surface.
Three…
Two…
One…
Julie grabbed and ripped at the material. Nothing there.
Why had she thought it a good idea to fit a decorative curtain in the bedroom? Feng Shui would have her believe televisions didn’t belong and had a negative effect on life, relationships, even health, but in her opinion, curtains were far worse. She turned around, surveying her environment, her scream uncontrollable, guttural and raw, piercing her own ears as she saw something, a slight movement in the corner of the room. Her skin was clammy as she prepared to face the intruder.
From behind the full-length mirror, Dan came bounding out, laughing like a hyena, but it was short-lived as he knocked it over in his attempt to reach her and hush the siren she emitted.
‘Shh, be quiet! Stop it!’
Julie’s scream continued as her body purged itself, releasing the built-up pressure and fear within her as she crumpled to the floor.
She didn’t stop.
‘Shut up, Julie! Shut up!’ He became frustrated as she rocked back and forth. ‘Stop it. Stop. Shh! It was a joke! You can stop now. Shh. Please, be quiet. Julie? Julie?’
She felt him start to shake her, but the sound continued.
He put a hand over her mouth and, eye-to-eye, repeated, ‘Stop it now, just stop. Calm down. Calm.’
Like an animal caught in a trap, her eyes darting from side to side, she eventually stopped her wailing.
Dan released his hand slowly…bravely…hesitantly, and there was silence again. He pushed her gently to the bed and tucked her unresponsive body under the covers before turning the light off and wrapping himself in the duvet on the other side.
She heard the smile in his voice as he drifted off to sleep.
‘Good night, God bless.’
Fuck you too, she thought.
Julie was not smiling. She was barely breathing as she lay there wondering how he could just switch off like nothing had happened. The room was still, silent, but there was a hissing in her ears; she was close to fainting.
Just as she was about to black out, embrace the adrenaline of the fight-or-flight sensation, the bedroom door opened. Who’s getting the last laugh now? she thought, embracing the intruder she had previously dreaded. Not so stupid after all.
Alert once more, she held her breath and welcomed the release death would offer. It was calming to think someone might wipe the smile off the face of her already snoring, oblivious husband. But when she heard panting, breathing and rustling next to her, a chill spread through her bones.
Be brave, Julie. Just one look.
She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Then a familiar smell, breathing close to her face. Closer…closer…
She rolled over and grasped Dan’s sleeping body. Take him first, she thought. Don’t give him the chance to escape.
The warm body close to her ear began to climb in next to her. ‘Mummy?’
Relief escaped in a sharp rush of breath. Julie turned and pulled Tommy close, never so happy to squeeze the love out of him as she was in that moment.
Chapter Two
As the dawn light filtered through the slats in the supposedly blackout, take-out-a-new-mortgage blinds, Julie tried to fight the realisation an alarm was beeping and it was up to her to turn it off. She lay stagnant in bed, the memory foam doing its job at keeping her dead still.
Maybe if I just lie here and sleep, Dan will get up?
Her snort of laughter nearly woke Tommy, whose feet had somehow ended up in her face. How did children turn one hundred and eighty degrees in their sleep? At least preparing to haul her body out of bed meant the bonus of pushing him into her husband. It wasn’t her fault if Dan was accidentally woken in the process.
She wriggled forward and got free.
Remember, always roll onto your side and then push up before you get up, or you’ll ruin your back! Julie recalled her Pilates teacher’s advice from the long-gone days that allowed for exercise. She smiled as she thought back to the absurdity of the wisdom, which her teacher had repeated over and over, her favourite life hack being: Remember to always zip up and hollow every time you breathe out, like you’re tying your belt really tight while on the toilet to stop the flow of urine. Yep, life-changing.
Come on, Julie, get up. Don’t get lost in your thoughts; get in the moment. You’re going to be late, then everyone else will be late because everyone waits for you. Okay, here goes…
She got up appropriately, stood, and then promptly collapsed in a heap on the floor.
A head rush? Got up too quick? Arthritis? A stroke? Julie wondered whether she was due a bit of time off to simply relax in a coma. A break from life?
She struggled to move from her heap on the floor, marvelling at the fact her husband and son didn’t stir a
t all. Reaching for her phone to consult Google about her fate, she pulled at the charger but couldn’t quite release it with one hand. Frustrated, she yanked it off the cord, knocking all the bedtime essentials off her bedside cabinet: two half-full water bottles, an eye mask, a nail file, some Mr. Men books, a wad of dirty tissues and a bundle of headbands she’d assumed to be lost. All of it came tumbling down on top of her.
Argh. So annoying! Stupid mobile. And she’d broken the charger cable in the process. Why, oh why did these things always happen to her?
Everybody else on Facebook and Instagram seemed to be having a wonderful day already, with full makeup applied by ten a.m.
What? No! It’s so late… Must get up. Must hurry. Emails checked, fitness app checked. Nope, still haven’t hit the magic eight hours’ sleep – ever. Surely there was some other essential she had to check next? Oh, yes, the weather app! Julie smiled as she searched London and every holiday destination she could think of.
As much as she wanted a coffee before waking the boys, Julie had her morning routine. First things first! She stripped naked in the bathroom, emptied her bladder, (leaning forward to squeeze out any last remnants, as advised by the online diet doctor) and then stepped onto the scales. Up two pounds since yesterday? Seriously, I just don’t get it, she thought angrily, having fasted the previous day.
She had expected to lose weight after her trauma in the night, all that sweat. So much sweat. The bedding would need to be changed. Oh great – more washing! It was a constant cycle, a mountain of clothes, never-ending: wash, dry, fold, put away, let’s begin the dance again. Julie needed one of those T-shirts with ‘wash, dry, repeat’ across the front. Yep, every mother’s motto. God help them all if the washer or dryer ever broke down; she would walk out on the family. At the thought of a possible out, she took a nice deep breath.
First, Julie made her way to her twelve-year-old’s bedroom. She paused, thought twice about waking him, then backtracked down the hall. It was not quite lunchtime after all. She wondered if she could just run away, if anyone would even notice, right as her eldest, William, came out of his room. He slammed the door behind him and ran downstairs, straight out the front door without a word.
