by Amy Cross
“I'm eating out,” Paula tells her.
“It's still two-fifty.”
“It is, huh?”
Paula counts out some coins before handing them to the woman, and then she heads back to the door. As she does so, I can't help noticing that several of the other customers here are giving her a weird look, but I guess she does look a little strange in her dirty clothes.
“Come on,” she calls back to me as she opens the door, “we've got things to do.”
“Sure,” I mutter, hurrying after her.
“People are assholes,” she continues, leading me along the high street as she starts opening the sandwich packet. “Do you ever notice the way they stare? It's like they want to poke their noses into everyone's business.”
“Yeah,” I reply, “but -”
“What are you looking at?” she yells at a woman on a bench.
The woman immediately turns away, but Paula stops and glares at her for a moment with an expression of pure anger. For a few seconds I'm actually worried that she might do or say something, but then she turns and walks off and I hurry after her.
“Dumb bitch,” she mutters. “Did you see? She was staring at me, just like the others.”
“I'm sure she didn't mean anything bad by it,” I tell her.
“I just hate people like that,” she says, heading down another alley and then stopping to take a bite of her sandwich. “They think they're so superior to everyone else,” she continues, speaking with her mouth full, “but they're not. I mean, do you think any of those dumb assholes are gonna watch out for Rose tonight?”
“Maybe someone should call the -”
“But I will!” she says firmly, as if it's the most important thing in the world. “Mark my words. I am not going to let anything happen to that little girl! I'd rather die first!”
Extract from chat log
Thursday January 31st 2013
From Mayfly90330:
Hey.
Just sending you a PM, since I haven't seen you online for a while. Not sure if that's a good sign or a bad sign or what, but I miss talking to you and I'd hate for you to suddenly disappear on me.
So things are really bad here. Like really REALLY bad. Family life sucks, but I can't escape. Just got to ride it out, I guess. People at school are really bitchy, and on top of that I'm panicking about what I'm going to do with my life. I know we promised not to get into stuff like that, but let's just say I live in a really sleepy little coastal town and I honestly can't imagine what it's like to never be able to escape.
Actually, I can imagine that, and that's what scares me.
I want to make a difference. I want to be somebody. Not for fame or money, but just so I know that I helped the world in some small way. But it's hard to see how I can do that, starting from where I am. Are all teenagers like this? Am I becoming the cliched teen I always hate? Maybe, lol, but it's what I really feel. There's got to be more to life than this, even now. I look at my parents and their sad lives, and I'm terrified I'll become like them.
I don't know. I guess I just wanted someone to talk to. I hope you come online again soon, or at least reply to this message. This might sound crazy, but somehow I really like talking to you. Sorry I haven't been around much lately, but please please pleeeeeease don't vanish on me. I need someone to talk to. Lol, now I sound like a total selfish bitch, don't I? Feel free to tell me that.
Or if you write back, tell me about your life. You don't do that very much.
Anyway, much love. Hope to hear from you soon.
Your friend,
Mayfly90330
P.S. Please write!
Chapter Thirteen
Today
“Careful,” Paula says as we head across the dark, empty car-park. “I don't want her to know that you're here. You might spook her.”
“Okay,” I reply, glancing around at the cars parked all around us, watching in case there's any sign that we're not alone. “I don't like it out here. What if someone's watching us?”
“I hope they are,” she says. “I'd like a chance to take this murderer down. He'd regret starting something with me, that's for sure.”
“I'm not -”
“Look!” She turns and reaches under her coat, before pulling out a knife with a curved blade that must be at least ten inches long.
“What the hell?” I gasp, stepping back.
“Relax,” she continues, waving the blade through the air for a moment before putting it back under her coat, “it's for self-defense. You should have something too.”
“I'm not carrying a knife around!” I tell her.
“You should. What if we get separated?”
“What are you going to do if someone attacks you?” I ask. “Stab them?”
“Of course,” she replies. “Who wouldn't? We live in a fucked-up world, May, where people do really fucked-up things. You can't trust anyone.” She pauses. “Except me. You can trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I tell her, “but -”
“And if that psycho attacks us,” she continues, as she looks around at the parked cars for a moment, “then I promise, you'll be real glad that I brought a weapon. Believe me, I've been caught out before and I'm not going to let it happen again.”
“I still don't -”
“Then walk home!” she says firmly.
“What?”
Grabbing my arm, she forces me to turn and look back across the car-park.
“The house is about twenty minutes from here, right? Along that dark, mostly deserted street? If you're fine with being unarmed, then walk home and I'll be along when I've checked on Rose.” She pauses, as if she's waiting for me to say something, and then she gives me a gentle shove, forcing me forward a few paces. “Go on!” she continues. “After all, there's no reason to be scared, is there? It's not like there's some madman with a knife out there, hunting people for sport!”
I turn to her, and I'm already starting to feel pretty dumb.
“Exactly,” she says, calming down a little. “It's not like I'm asking you to carry anything, anyway. Just please, please hold back from laying into me. Okay?”
“Okay,” I stammer.
“Now wait here while I go and make sure Rose is hidden.”
With that, she turns and heads off into the darkness, toward the yard at the back of the coffee place. I want to go with her, but I force myself to stay right where I am, and after a moment I hear a gate clanging open.
“Hey,” Paula says, her voice just about loud enough in the darkness ahead, “how are you doing? Do you need anything?”
I wait, and after a moment I hear a faint, murmuring voice responding to her. It's clearly the little girl, Rose, and she sounds so timid and terrified. I want to hurry over to them and try to persuade Rose to come home with us, but then I remember Paula's words earlier and I remind myself that I should probably just let her do this her way. After all, she seems a little volatile.
“No-one's gonna find you here,” Paula continues. “That's good. You're a smart kid, do you realize that? The bad man won't find you while you're hiding here, I promise. I won't let anything happen to you. I even came out here tonight, specially to check on you and make sure you're not in danger. That shows you can trust me, right?”
I hear a mumbled reply.
“Good kid,” Paula says. “Now, there's one other thing I need to make sure you understand. I know the police are supposed to be your friends, but -”
The girl interrupts her, briefly sounding panicked.
“No, I don't mean like that,” Paula tells her. “I mean the opposite. I'm telling you to avoid the police even more than usual, at least for now. I can't explain it all, but I've got this really bad feeling that the evil man might be something to do with them. Like, he's a policeman himself, and that means anything the police know is also stuff that the killer might know. So just for now, just until this is over, promise me you won't let the police take you anywhere. Deal?”
There's a faint reply, and
then I hear a shuffling sound.
Followed by silence.
I wait, but it's as if the whole world has gone quiet. A moment later I hear a car in the distance, but then even that sound goes and I'm left waiting.
Holding my breath.
“I'm sorry,” Paula says suddenly, blurting the words out. “I'll be back tomorrow, I promise. I'll come and check on you again.”
I hear the gate clanging again, and then Paula comes stumbling out of the darkness. She has one hand reaching inside her coat, and she's walking a little stiffly. When she reaches me, she looks out across the car-park for a moment and I see the fear in her eyes. It takes a few seconds before she turns to me, before she even seems to realize that I'm here.
“How is she?” I ask tentatively. “Is she cold?”
“She's okay.”
“Are you sure you don't want to ask her to -”
“I said she's okay!” she snaps. “She's fine! Nothing's wrong and she'll be fine so long as I look after her.”
Pulling her hand out from inside the coat, she holds it up so that she can see it properly, and then she holds her other hand up as well. For a moment she seems mesmerized by the sight of her bare hands, and she turns them around a few times as if she wants to inspect them thoroughly.
“Everything's fine,” she says finally, her voice filled with a hint of awe. “I'm taking care of it all.”
“Are we going home now?” I ask, as a cold breeze makes me shiver slightly. “I mean, it's late, maybe we should get back to the cottage.”
She doesn't reply.
Instead, she steps toward me and bumps my shoulder hard as she passes, and then she sort of staggers out across the car-park She nudges one of the cars as she goes, and I can't help thinking that she suddenly seems like she's really out of her mind. Then, just as I'm about to call out to her, she stops and leans against one of the cars, while bowing her head.
I wait, but she simply stands there, silhouetted against a distant streetlight.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask finally, trying not to sound too concerned. “Paula?”
Again I wait, but she still doesn't say anything.
I start making my way over, hoping that nothing's wrong, but then I stop as I realize I can hear her mumbling to herself under her breath. I can't make out any of the words, not from here, but she definitely seems to be talking to herself and I'm feeling a little creeped out. After a moment I take a step forward, then another, until I manage to pick out a few of her words.
“You did the right thing,” she's telling herself. “Think how you'd feel if you hadn't. You were strong and that's alright, that's good. You totally did the right thing.”
“Paula?” I say cautiously. “Are you feeling okay?”
“You did the right thing,” she says again, before stumbling away from the car and starting once again to make her way across the car-park She's still mumbling, but now she's too far away again for me to hear her properly.
“Paula?”
I head after her, but I can't help noticing that she's stumbling a little. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was drunk or on drugs, but I'm pretty certain I'd have noticed if she'd taken anything. Still, I'm worried, and I only get more worried when she heads out of the car-park and walks straight across the street without even looking for traffic.
Fortunately, this late at night there are very few cars about.
“Paula!” I yell, hurrying after her as she starts walking along the pitch-black street that leads, eventually, to the row of cottages. “Hey, wait up!”
She doesn't slow. She doesn't even acknowledge me. Instead, she stumbles off into the darkness and I have to run to catch up. Something definitely seems to be wrong, and by the time I reach her I can barely even make her out in the dark street.
“So are you going to tell me what's up?” I ask as I get alongside her. “Don't tell me it's nothing, because you've clearly got something on your mind.”
I wait, but she still doesn't say anything. Then, a moment later, she stops at the next corner and reaches over to a nearby bin. She fiddles with the top for a moment before pulling it free, and then she examines the big chunk of plastic in her hands.
“Hey,” I continue, “should -”
Before I can finish, Paula lets out a cry of rage and turns, throwing the top of the bin with all her strength. The plastic hits the window of a nearby house, shattering the glass as Paula screams again.
Extract from chat log
Saturday February 2nd 2013
From AardvarkQueen310293:
Hey there yourself.
Sorry to hear things have been hard. Hang on in there and I promise it'll get better. Things seem bad now, but you don't have to end up like your parents. Life in a small town isn't for everyone, but you can get out if that's what you really want. Go to London. That's my plan. Maybe we can even meet up there. Imagine, after all this crap, one day meeting face to face and getting to know each other properly.
Sorry, maybe that's too personal, but I've been thinking about it. I'd like to get to know you better, to hang out as friends. I know we're friends online, and I know we agreed to keep from posting personal info, but things change, right? I was starting to think that you were pulling away, and I understood that and respected it, but your recent message made me think I was wrong. So I don't know how you feel, but I'd be up for maybe setting a date to meet in London. I have no idea what we could do, LOL, but I figure we're two (seemingly) intelligent chicks so I'm sure we could fill a few hours.
I'm free most weekends from now on, so just let me know when's good for you. At the risk of revealing too much (LOL), I can divulge that I live within two hours of London and I'd love to get the train in. But only if you want to. No pressure. I just think we've hit the wall in terms of what we can talk about like this, and face to face is the way to go. If we're gonna get more personal.
So let me know. LOL. No pressure, like I said. I might even tell you my real name!
Yours most sincerely,
AardvarkQueen310293
P.S. We can meet somewhere busy, in case you're worried that I'm a serial killer. LOL.
Chapter Fourteen
Today
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I shout, hurrying after Paula as she stumbles further along the street. “Why did you do that? Why are you so mad?”
She mutters something in response, but I can't quite make out the words. When I try to get closer, she uses her shoulder to push me away, and then she stops at another bin.
After pulling the lid away, she kicks the bin over, sending garbage crashing all over the street.
“Why are you acting like this?” I ask, as she starts walking away. “Paula, I don't get it, you're out of control. What happened?”
“Yeah, like you'd ever know,” she mutters.
“You could try to explain!” I tell her, grabbing her shoulder only for her to pull away again. “You can't just go on some kind of rampage like this! You're going to get arrested!”
“Like anyone cares,” she replies, already getting far enough ahead that I can barely see her. “This whole town oughta be ripped apart. Anyway, it's not like there's anyone in most of these houses. Their owners are rich assholes up in London, they don't even give a damn about what happens here.”
“Paula -”
“Look at it!” she yells, and I flinch as I hear glass shattering. A moment later there's another crashing sound, and it's clear that Paula is losing her mind. “I hate this place!”
As more glass breaks, I hurry through the darkness, but at first I can't quite figure out which way Paula has gone. There are several dark streets heading off from the next junction, and I have to look around several times before I manage to make out Paula's silhouette in the distance. She's heading up toward the beach, so I set off after her, only to feel my feet crunching against some broken glass on the pavement.
As I head along the street, I spot several broken windows, but no lights seem to h
ave been switched on. I guess Paula was right when she said most of these houses are empty. Right now, it looks like there's no-one in any of them, there's no-one to even react when glass starts smashing. Making my way through the darkness, I finally get to the road that runs parallel to the beach, but somehow I've managed to lose sight of Paula again. Still, it's not difficult to figure out which way she's gone, so I hurry across the road and then I scramble over the sea-wall until I drop down onto the pebble beach.
“Paula!” I yell, struggling to be heard over the sound of waves crashing against the shore. “Where are you?”
And then I see her.
She's already down at the edge of the sea, with waves rushing in and rising past her ankles. She seems to be staring straight out toward the dark horizon, toward the blinking red and white lights of boats passing along the English Channel, and for a moment I can't help feeling worried about what she's thinking. Even as I start crunching my way toward her across the beach, I'm terrified that at any moment she might lunge forward and disappear into the water.
“What are you doing?” I shout, stopping just short of reaching her. Already, I can feel my feet getting soaked. “Paula? You're scaring me.”
“You have no idea how close I was,” she replies, still staring out toward the horizon.
“What?”
I wait, but she doesn't explain.
“Close to what?” I continue. “Paula, you're not making any sense.”
“It's going to happen,” she replies. “I know it is. I should just...”
She pauses, before tilting her head slightly.
“It's weird how we run away from the sea, isn't it?” she says finally. “Like, all of human life began when some dumb fish crawled out of the water millions of years ago, and since then we just haven't stopped crawling away from the beach. We build cities, and then we bring in just enough water to let us live. We want to leave Earth and go out into space, to where there doesn't seem to be much water. Water gives us life, but as a species we're always running away from it. But that's how our life – how all life – began. Just... weird, unexpected stuff happening in water. Things die at the edge of the water. And that's also where things are born.”
