Friend From the Internet

by Amy Cross

  “Yeah,” she replies, “I know. But now can we please get going? I need to get this last thing done before the police find me.”

  “Paula -”

  “I need to speak to Caroline!” she adds, turning and hurrying once again across the marshland, heading toward the lights of Croftby. “I have to find out why she stopped talking to me all those years ago!”

  “Of course you do,” I mutter, as I set off after her. “But I don't think you're going to like the answer.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “There!”

  Getting to her feet, Paula triumphantly holds up a piece of plastic she's managed to liberate from a bin-bag on the street.

  “What's that for?” I ask wearily.

  If I'm tired, that means she must be too.

  “You'll see,” she says, turning and heading along the dark, unlit road.

  Still wearing nothing more than her hospital gown, and with bare feet, she makes her way through the darkness. I have no choice but to follow, although I can't help glancing over my shoulder as I think back to the night I was attacked. Or at least, to the night when Paula imagined me getting attacked, although I guess the crazed maniac guy was just another figment of her imagination. Maybe that's another fake 'friend' she imagined for herself, a way of distancing herself from the awful crimes she was committing.

  She's clinically insane.

  Actually, I don't think clinically insane quite covers it.

  “Not far now,” she says, leading me around a corner and along yet another dark street. “Most of these houses and cottages are still empty,” she continues, with a hint of anticipation in her voice. “It must be so creepy to live around here, knowing you're surrounded by so many empty places. I don't think I could ever manage that. Not that I'll ever have to.”

  “Do you even know where you're going?” I ask.

  “Obviously.”

  “But -”

  “I know where she lives. Believe me, that's one of the first things I figured out when I came to Croftby.”

  “Okay, but -”

  “Here.”

  Stopping suddenly, she looks up at the facade of a tall, dark house.

  “It looks empty,” I point out, “like all the rest.”

  “It's, like, midnight or something,” she replies. “I think all the other houses along here are empty, but Caroline and her husband and kid live here. I'm sure they're in bed right now, which is fair enough. I'd wait until morning, but I don't exactly think that time's on my side.” She hesitates for a moment. “I should've done this right at the start, although then I wouldn't have known exactly what's going on. Still, that's no excuse for being a bloody pussy.”

  I open my mouth to tell her that this is a mistake, but suddenly I realize I can feel a sensation of pure dread rising through my body. I guess I'm picking up something that's overwhelming Paula, and the sensation is strong enough to make me feel as if I'm about to burst out into full-on panic. I want to run away, to get as far from this place as possible, and with each passing second the dread seems to creep further and further through my body until I'm almost shaking with fear.

  Paula, meanwhile, has a fake smile on her face as she continues to stare at the dark house.

  “Okay,” she says finally. “It's time.”

  Stepping forward, she makes her way to the door and then she takes the piece of broken plastic and starts sliding it into the gap near the lock.

  “I hope she doesn't have a bolt,” she whispers. “If she has a bolt, I -”

  She gasps, and I watch with a growing sense of horror as the door clicks open.

  Turning to me, Paula seems genuinely scared, and I feel the sense of dread getting stronger.

  “You don't have to do this,” I tell her. “You don't have to do any of this. You can stop and turn around right now, and turn yourself in to the police.”

  “That'd be the smart thing,” she replies, “but I need to talk to Caroline first. I need to know why she did what she did.”

  With that, she turns and pushes the door gently open, and then she steps into the house's dark interior.

  Realizing that I have no real option, I walk after her. When I get into the hallway, I turn and very carefully push the door shut, although in the darkness I'm just about able to make out a couple of dead-bolts that apparently weren't secured.

  “Why did she leave the bolts open?” I ask, turning to Paula as she reaches a doorway. “That doesn't make any sense. You said she's seen you a couple of times, breaking into houses. Surely she must realize that she needs to be more careful?”

  Instead of replying, Paula steps into the next room and slips out of sight.

  Sighing, I make my way after her, following her into a large living room. Paula's already over at the far end, but I stop in the middle of the room and watch as she looks at some family photos that have been left on top of a sideboard.

  “Why wouldn't she bolt the door?” I ask again. “If I've noticed, then that means you've noticed. There has to be a reason, Paula.” I watch as she examines one of the photos, and she seems to be almost in a daze. “I need you to stay focused,” I tell her. “Paula, this is serious. Something doesn't feel right here, and I think we should leave right now.” I wait, but she still doesn't reply. “Paula? Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you,” she says calmly.

  “Who the fuck are you?” another voice asks.

  Gasping, I turn just as a lamp is switched on, and I'm shocked to see Caroline standing with her back to the drawn curtains. In her right hand, she's holding a knife.

  “I saw your photo on the news a while back,” she continues, looking past me toward Paula. “I recognized you immediately, but then I'd noticed you before. Those two times in cottages, late at night, and a few times in the street too. Sometimes after dark, sometimes before. You've been very interested in me, and I want to know why.”

  “You know why,” Paula replies, and I can hear the fear in her voice.

  I can feel her fear, too. I thought she'd rush to embrace Caroline, to tell her everything, but instead for some reason she's holding back.

  “I have some ideas,” Caroline says, tilting her head slightly. “Then again, if any of them are right, you must be one very strange girl. You must -”

  “I'm AardvarkQueen310293!” Paula blurts out suddenly.

  “What?”

  “From the chat-room, years ago. We were friends, remember?”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Caroline asks.

  “You were Mayfly90330,” Paula continues, “and I was AardvarkQueen310293. We used to talk almost every day, but then you stopped replying. I thought maybe something had happened to you. I got angry for a while, but then I was worried. I thought maybe...”

  Her voice trails off.

  “That was you?” Caroline says, clearly shocked.

  “I knew you'd remember me. I knew you hadn't forgotten!”

  “I barely remember,” Caroline continues. “I mean, I remember talking to someone but... Are you serious? You're that girl I used to talk to?”

  “I found you.”

  Hearing footsteps, I turn to see that Paula is coming over to the center of the room. I can still feel her fear, mixed now with a hint of hope.

  “That's why you were watching me?” Caroline asks. “You were... stalking me? From the internet?”

  “You went silent,” Paula says. “You just cut me off cold and I never knew why, and I had to find out. I was worried that I'd scared you off, and then I sent some mean messages and I -”

  “I just stopped going on that site,” Caroline explains. “That's all.”

  “Sure, but you didn't send me a message about it,” Paula points out. “You didn't give me your email address or anything.”

  “Why would I?”

  “So we could keep in touch.”

  “Keep in touch?” Caroline hesitates, as if this is the most confusing thing in the world. “It never occurred to me,” she says
finally. “I mean, I don't keep in touch with everyone I've ever talked to online. That'd be absurd.”

  “Sure, but we were friends.”

  Caroline starts laughing, before stopping herself.

  “We were!” Paula says, and now I can sense her desperation. “We were friends, and we talked, and I suggested we should meet up and then I never heard from you again.”

  “I don't think I read that message,” Caroline replies. “I don't know. I don't really remember. It was a while ago and... I mean, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “I came to find out why you stopped talking to me!” Paula says firmly.

  “Why I -”

  “Just tell me!”

  “I forgot!”

  “You -”

  Paula stops suddenly, and I feel a sudden wrenching feeling in my chest. A kind of shock, mixed with sorrow.

  “You forgot?” she says after a moment.

  “I had other things in my life,” Caroline continues. “Come on, it was just chatting on the internet. I'm sorry if you took it more seriously, but people talk all the time online and it doesn't mean anything. When real life came along, of course I forgot about it. I honestly don't think I've thought about it since.” She hesitates, keeping her eyes fixed on Paula. “Is that really why you came to Croftby? You dug me up and came to find me, just because of some times we talked online?”

  “It was for more than a year,” Paula replies, and I turn to see that there are tears in her eyes. “We were friends!”

  “Jesus,” Caroline says with a sigh. “What the...”

  Suddenly I hear a door opening upstairs, followed by the sound of footsteps.

  “Maybe we should go,” I whisper, as I hear the footsteps hurrying down the stairs. A moment later, more footsteps follow.

  I turn and look at the doorway, just in time to see a little boy run through. He must be only two or three years old, and he stops as soon as he sees Paula. A moment later a man arrives after him.

  “Hey,” he says, “what's going on down here?”

  “Go back to bed,” Caroline tells him. “I'm just talking to someone.”

  “It's one in the morning,” he points out, and he sounds irritated. “Can someone please tell me what's going on?” He turns to Paula. “Who are you?”

  “She's no-one,” Caroline says, stepping over to her handbag and rummaging inside. “Please, Scott, just go to bed and I'll explain it in the morning.”

  “I want to know now,” he replies, keeping his eyes fixed on Paula. “You've been on the news, haven't you? I recognize your face from somewhere.” He pauses for a moment. “Hang on, aren't you that girl who killed -”

  Before he can finish, he lets out an anguished cry and slumps forward. There's a loud cracking sound in the air, and as Scott lands I see that Caroline has fired her taser at him from behind. Almost immediately, the little boy starts crying, but Caroline hurries over and puts her arms around him, quickly picking him up.

  “It's okay,” she says, kissing him on the cheek. “Daddy's just taking a little nap.”

  “We need to get out of here right now,” I say, hurrying over to Paula. “Something's not right here.”

  I wait for her to reply, but she's simply staring with a blank expression as Caroline carries the crying boy out of the room. Hearing a bumping sound, I turn just in time to see Caroline putting the boy into the cupboard under the stairs, and then she swings the door shut and slides the bolt across. The boy can still be heard screaming, but Caroline doesn't seem to care as she checks the bolt and then slowly comes back into the room.

  “Did you just put your son in a cupboard?” I ask, before looking down at the unconscious husband on the floor. “Did you just knock your own husband out?”

  “Sorry about that,” Caroline says calmly, stopping in the doorway and setting the taser down next to her handbag. “You'll understand, I was a little worried that you might have been about to say something that I'd rather you didn't say.”

  “She just stunned her husband,” I point out, turning to Paula again as the little boy continues to scream in the cupboard. “That's not something that normal people do.”

  Paula doesn't reply, but I see a tear run down her cheek.

  “So let me get this straight,” Caroline says. “You came to Croftby to track me down, and then you started stalking me. Okay, fine. So far, so good. You were following me through the streets. In which case, I'm going to assume that you started getting to know me pretty well.”

  “What's she talking about?” I ask, as another tear runs down Paula's face. “Why haven't you let me know this part? I thought you only saw her late at night?”

  “The drinking,” Caroline continues, and I turn to see that she's slowly coming over toward Paula. “The loneliness. The face I let show when I think no-one else is watching. I guess maybe I underestimated you, AardvarkQueen310293. You must have come to know a side of me that I keep from everyone. Even from my husband. I never thought anyone would know the real me, but you found a way to sneak in, didn't you?”

  I step back as she reaches Paula, and I watch as she reaches out and places her left hand on the side of Paula's face. She uses a finger to wipe away some of the tears.

  “You actually care,” she whispers. “What's your real name again? It was in the papers. Oh yes, I remember. Paula. Do you mind if I call you Paula?”

  “Please,” Paula replies, her voice trembling with sobs. “Call me whatever you want.”

  “I'll call you Paula,” Caroline purrs with a smile. “You know, Paula, I think I might have made a huge mistake. I've always held my real self back. You realize that, don't you? I thought I had to pretend to be someone I'm not, just to get along in life. Maybe I didn't understand until now, maybe I thought I was doing what society demanded. Is it possible that I got it all wrong, that I turned away from something that I should have run into headlong?”

  “I sent you mean messages,” Paula stammers. “I called you all sorts of things after -”

  “That doesn't matter now,” Caroline replies, interrupting her. “It's in the past.”

  “I suggested we should meet in person,” Paula continues, with tears streaming down her face now. “I'm sorry if that was too much, if I pushed too far, if I scared you or -”

  “I didn't read those messages,” Caroline says, interrupting her again. “Shush, Paula, don't worry about things that don't matter.”

  “But -”

  “Hey.”

  She places a finger against Paula's lips, silencing her.

  “What's done is done,” she continues, “and all that matters is the here and now. You and me, standing here alone right now, knowing each other better than anyone else knows either of us. I must have been completely blind not to have seen it before, but maybe I did see it and I was just scared. Do you think that's possible?”

  “Maybe,” Paula sobs. “I mean... Sure.”

  “You know me, don't you?” Caroline asks.

  “I do,” Paula whimpers.

  “Better than anyone else in the whole world?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even the things I keep from my husband, and from my real-life friends?”

  “I think so,” Paula blurts out, sniffing back more tears. “Is that crazy?”

  “No,” Caroline replies calmly, “it's not remotely crazy. Why would it be crazy?”

  In the cupboard, the little boy is still screaming.

  Slowly, Caroline pulls Paula closer and hugs her tight, and Paula starts sobbing against her shoulder.

  “It must have taken a lot of bravery for you to come here tonight,” Caroline whispers, as I feel a growing sense of unease in my chest. “You had to be so strong and so mature and so sure of yourself. Sure of us.”

  “I tried,” Paula sobs, burying her face against Caroline's sweater.

  “You did more than try,” Caroline says, before kissing the side of her head. “Thank you for coming to me tonight, Paula. You have no idea how much your coura
ge means to me.”

  Why am I feeling so worried? It's as if I'm scared of something, but if I'm feeling that fear, then Paula must be feeling it too. Either that, or Paula's pushing it onto me so she can ignore it herself.

  “Hey,” I say cautiously, “maybe -”

  And then, in a flash, I see Caroline slip a large knife from under her sweater. Before I can react, before I even register properly what I'm seeing, she turns the knife so that the blade is aimed straight at Paula's belly.

  “No!” I scream, rushing forward. “Get out of the way!”

  Caroline pulls Paula closer and slices the knife straight into her belly. I freeze, too horrified to know what to do, but already Caroline is slipping the knife out. She stabs Paula again, then again and again, each time causing a hideous squelching sounds as blood starts spurting from the wound. Paula lets out an agonized gasp and tries to pull away, but Caroline holds her steady with one hand while using the other to stab her over and over in the belly until the front of Paula's hospital gown is covered in blood.

  “Stop!” I shout, trying to grab Caroline but not managing to actually touch her. “Leave her alone! Don't -”

  Suddenly I feel an agonizing pain in my belly. Stepping back against the wall, I realize I'm feeling the same wounds that have been gouged into Paula's body.

  Paula lets out a pained gurgle and pulls free. She tries to stumble past Caroline, but she's too slow. Turning with her, Caroline drives the knife down into Paula's back, stabbing her between the shoulder-blades and sending her stumbling forward until she collapses and has to grab the back of the sofa to stay up.

  Reaching down, Caroline pulls the knife out from Paula's back and then slices it straight down into her left shoulder.

  Paula screams, as the child continues to cry under the stairs.

  “It was very nice of you to take the blame for those two girls I killed,” Caroline sneers, as Paula desperately tries to hold herself up against the sofa with blood gushing from all her wounds. “It's a shame you didn't show up a year ago, when I first killed, but I suppose we can't have everything. The important thing is that the police think you killed those girls. Was that your way of protecting me, Paula, once you saw what I'd become?”