Her Final Victim

by NJ Moss

  “So he sneaks into women’s houses and he looks down and he imagines Mummy didn’t run away after all—”

  “You have no right to talk about my mother—”

  “And if it makes him excited, if he touches himself, he’s not really thinking about his sweet mummy, is he? No, because that would be disgusting.”

  I roar and kick blindly, not even sure what I’m doing. My foot smashes into the TV stand and the cheap material caves inward. I turn back to her, panting, everything in me aching with the need to make her hurt for these lies. What a twisted way to frame things.

  She hasn’t moved an inch. “Feel better?”

  “You’re a killer. Do you think I’m stupid? All those photos, all those dead men. Those weren’t the sort of photos the police release to the public.”

  “I’m a serial killer, thank you very much. I have killed ten men. You will be my eleventh. But you’ll never get me to say that again. I’d be foolish to risk it.”

  The corner of her lip twitches.

  Fuck. “You’re recording this conversation.”

  She shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps I have a recording of you talking about how sneaking into women’s houses and watching them sleep is the same as skiing. Or perhaps I don’t. You’ll have to live with the possibility. But don’t stress, my little lamb. If something is possible, it is also impossible. Reality is a mere collection of words.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  She flashes her teeth. “I would explain it to you, but I fear you’ll be dead long before you get the point.”

  “You admitted you’re a serial killer. Your recording doesn’t mean shit.”

  “Silly me. If only there was a way to selectively cherry-pick quotes from a recording. Perhaps some enterprising inventor will develop such an esoteric form of audio manipulation one day in the future.”

  “An edited clip? It’ll come across as fake. It’ll be choppy. Nobody will believe it. You heard of deep fakes? You can make people say anything these days.”

  She shrugs with an airy sigh. “I suppose you’ll have to take the chance.”

  I groan and pace up and down in front of her armchair, opening and closing my hands.

  What am I supposed to do here?

  If I hurt her like I want to, I’ll go to prison. The shop owner saw me come up here. Those kids saw me come up here. It’s not like I’ve dressed down for the occasion. I’m wearing a suit and a Rolex and cufflinks. They’ll remember me.

  “Getting a little light exercise?” She tracks my movements the same way an animal would. Even smiling, her eyes are alert and ready. She must have a weapon on her. It’s the only way this confidence makes sense when I’m so much stronger than she is.

  I stop in front of her. “Who are you? Have I done something to you in the past?”

  “Hiding a lot of skeletons in your closet, are you?”

  “No. It’s just… what do you want?”

  She tosses her head, sitting up straighter. “I want the light. I want to feel the sunlit rays and I want people to know I’m not like them. I am not a person, because people are weak. Men are weak. Women are the same. Women can be worse, but there is a specific kind of weakness in your breed that truly repulses me. I seek it out and I destroy it. I am an avenging angel.”

  I throw my head back and laugh, howling, gripping my sides. It’s not as funny as I’m making it seem, but I know this’ll piss her off. She’s full of herself, talking like she’s on a stage.

  “Stop laughing. Stop laughing at me.”

  She jumps to her feet. She’s wearing block heels and she’s tall for a woman. We stare at each other eye to eye. A siren blares by outside.

  “Why?” I chuckle right into her arrogant face. “It’s funny. The light? An avenging angel? Sorry to break it to you, sweetheart. But you’re just a sad little bitch living above an electronics shop.”

  She steps away from me, smoothing her hands down her suit jacket. “Congratulations, Jamie. Few people can make me snap. You might want to be more careful in the future, however. I may not be so forgiving next time.” She drops into the chair with a yawn. “You can leave now.”

  I feel lost. Surely this can’t be it. “But you haven’t told me what you want.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “From me. What do you want from me?”

  “Weren’t you listening? I want the light, and you’re going to give it to me. Please collect your shoes on the way out. I’ve left them next to the door. That’s normally where you keep them, isn’t it?”

  “But—”

  “Leave now,” she says with an edge to her voice, “or I scream rape.”

  I clench my hand into a fist. I lift it. I glare at her.

  But there’s nothing I can do, not now at least.

  I stride down the hallway. My shoes sit beside the welcome mat. I think about picking one of them up, charging back in there, beating her to death with it. But I’ve never killed anyone. I’m not a violent person.

  Even if I want to hurt her – and I do – there’s no way I’d get away with it.

  I pick up my shoes and carry them down the stairs.

  15

  Hazel

  I stand in front of the mirror at the gym, turning to the side so the shape of my leg catches the light. I make my smile airy and carefree, even if that’s not how I feel. It’s Jamie. He’s been acting weird since the party on Saturday. I thought a new week might be a new start. But it’s Tuesday and he’s still mopey. I don’t like it.

  I didn’t marry a sulky little kid. I feel like he’s not holding up his end of our relationship.

  The gym is quiet, the yoga-mat section empty apart from a woman I vaguely recognise from my other visits. She sees me taking a photo and grins. I smile and roll my eyes, as if to say, I know, but I can’t help it. And I can’t. I’m not ashamed. I look really, really hot.

  I want to take a photo. Sue me.

  I take a few more and then wander over to the inner-thigh cruncher. I don’t know the official name. Jamie and I come to the gym together sometimes, and he calls it the pussy pounder. That always makes me laugh, but I’d never dream of using it on my Insta. Some of my followers are like twelve.

  Exercise is so good for the soul. Now it’s time to bake in the sauna. #blessed #livingmybestlife

  I add some more hashtags with my app, post it, and then finish up my last few sets.

  My legs burn, but I don’t feel as floaty and happy as I usually do after a workout. Maybe it’s because I know what I’ve got to sit through later, with Mum and Dad.

  Or maybe it’s because, this morning when I told Jamie I loved him, he didn’t hear me. Eh? he grumbled, walking out of the en suite. I told him again. He said it back, but not with the same passion he usually does. It bothered me.

  I want our marriage to stay perfect for the rest of our lives. Or, if it can’t actually be perfect, I at least want him to act like it is. That’s the agreement we made when we said our vows.

  “Ooph, you’re really working it, aren’t you?”

  I look up to find a man standing near my machine. His brown hair is in a bun and he’s wearing a tank top to show off his sleeved tattoos.

  “I’m just finishing up, if you want to use it,” I tell him.

  He smirks like a weirdo. “There are a few things I’d like to use.”

  “What? I’m confused.”

  “I’m talking about you, hot stuff. I’d like to use that tight body of yours.”

  I stare and stare, waiting for him to disappear. I’ve heard about douche-lords like this on social media, but I’ve never actually met one. “Are you joking?”

  “Ah, come on. You’re attractive. I’m attractive. Let’s smash our bodies together.”

  He can’t be serious. There’s no way he just said, Let’s smash our bodies together. It’s too ridiculous.

  He moves forward. “You like it rough, don’t you? I can tell—”

  “What is it wit
h men like you?” a woman says, standing up from the machine next to me. I didn’t even see she was there. I was focused on my phone. “You can clearly tell she’s not interested. She’s tried to be polite, and you still feel the need to act like a pig.”

  I feel like I’m the sole audience member in a flash mob. I’m frozen.

  And is… yes, it is. It’s the woman with the Victorian-sounding name, from the party. Millicent Maidstone. Millie. She walks over to us and stares at the man. “Well?”

  “I was trying to—”

  “You were trying to find a woman who’d want to fuck you after you accosted her in a gym. Let me break it to you, dickhead. They don’t exist. And if they did, they certainly wouldn’t be interested in a loser like you. Why don’t you do us a favour and fuck off?”

  The man bows his head and skulks away.

  “Sorry,” Millie says. She’s wearing black yoga leggings and a black tank top, with a black sports bra beneath. It seems to be her colour. “I felt like I had to… Wait a second. Do I know you?”

  “Um,” I murmur, still trying to wrap my head around what just happened. Maybe in a club guys speak like that, but not stone-cold sober in a gym. Maybe he was drunk or high or something. “From the party on Saturday? I’m Jamie’s wife.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Jeez, what are the chances, huh? It’s nice to see you again.”

  “I can’t believe you did that.” I laugh. “I was completely frozen. I didn’t know what to do!”

  “Putting arseholes in their place is my specialty. What are the chances I’d be here to save you?”

  “Oh, you saved me? That might be pushing it a bit. No, but seriously, thank you. I don’t know why people think they can be so rude.”

  She waves a hand. “It’s nothing. You’re hitting the sauna now, right? Mind if I join you?”

  I stand up. “Yeah, I am. How did you know?”

  She pats her chest, smiling. “Because I’m watching you, Hazel Smithson.”

  Everything you do, everything you are… I’ll always be watching. The words come to me as they so often do, with the tiniest of nudges.

  I laugh a little uncomfortably. “Um, okay?”

  “Sorry.” She reaches into her bra and pulls out her phone. “I meant I follow you on Instagram. I saw your post. I was literally scrolling through your feed just now. And then I see you sitting there, and I’m like: no way, it’s her. Seriously, one in a million chance. I have to say, I absolutely love your content. It’s what inspired me to start coming to the gym.”

  “That’s lovely. In that case, I insist you join me in the sauna.”

  “Wonderful!” She dances over and loops her arm through mine. “Come on, before more vultures start circling.”

  We leave the gym and walk into the changing rooms together. There’s something about Millie I really like, and it’s not just how she swooped to my defence. It’s the way she feels comfortable linking arms with me when we hardly know each other.

  I think we could become friends very quickly.

  Millie laughs as we walk over to our lockers, which happen to be in the same corner of the room. “I forgot my champagne heels today.”

  “Champagne heels?” I take out my swimsuit and place it on the hook.

  “Remember?” She pulls her tank top over her head. “From the party? We said champagne is so good they should make clothes out of it. And then we said we’d want champagne heels, and… It doesn’t matter.”

  “I’m sorry. That night’s a little hazy for me.”

  “You said it was the funniest thing you’d ever heard. But I understand how alcohol can make people forgetful. Hazy Hazel, huh?”

  Do I sense some judgment there? If so, it’s not fair. She was as drunk as me.

  I change into my one-piece and Millie changes into a black bikini. I notice she has a tattoo on her hip bone, a date: 13/03/95. She’s also wearing a simple rope necklace with a plain rectangular pendant attached.

  She sees me looking and smiles.

  Moving with a dramatic flair that makes me laugh, she points at the tattoo. “This, my inquisitive new bestie, is the date my life changed forever. And this—” She points to the pendant. “Is a custom waterproof USB memory stick I had made when I started my novel. You see, I’m a teensy bit paranoid. I don’t want anybody stealing my ideas, so I take it everywhere.”

  I want to ask what she means. My life changed forever. How? What happened? But I can leave it for another day. I don’t want to pry.

  “I can honestly say I’ve never heard of anybody doing that before. You’re an enigma, Millicent Maidstone.”

  “Is that a bad thing?” she asks, as we carry our towels and water bottles to the sauna’s entrance.

  “No. All my favourite people are a little strange.”

  We reserve two recliner chairs with our towels and then take our water bottles into the sauna. There are a few people in the Jacuzzi at the far end, but we’ve got the sauna to ourselves. Millie climbs to the top and sprawls out, letting her head fall back. I sit on the lower shelf and rest my head against the opposite wall, so we’re looking at each other. It’s a decent warm temperature, not boiling like it gets when people pour too much water on the stones.

  I want to say something to her, but I don’t want to come across as rude.

  “What?” she says.

  “What?” I echo, and we both smile.

  “You’re looking at me funny.”

  “Okay, fine. But promise you won’t take it the wrong way?”

  She makes an X over her chest with her forefinger.

  “I can’t imagine you and Ray together.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know. You seem so… Hmm, I don’t know. Forget it.”

  “Come on, H.”

  Only Jamie calls me H. Strangely, I don’t feel the need to correct her.

  “I don’t seem like his other girlfriends, right?” Millie says. I nod. “I know how it looks. But the truth is, I like Ray. I think there’s more to him than meets the eye. Men like Ray think they want a piece of arm candy, subservient and silent. But they’re wrong. He needs a woman who knows how to put him in his place.”

  I nod again, but I’m not sure she’s right. I think Ray really does want an airhead. Or a new model every few months. I hope he doesn’t break Millie’s heart.

  “You and Jamie seem like a fantastic couple,” she says a few moments later. Both of us are coated in a fine layer of sweat. My mouth is getting dry. “You really seem to gel.”

  “That’s nice of you to say. Yeah, we work great together. We make a good team.”

  And like a good team we cover up for each other’s mistakes and imperfections. But I can’t tell Millie that part.

  “How did you meet?”

  “University.” I won’t give her the full version. That belongs to me and Jamie, nobody else. “I was doing media studies and he was doing business. I was a fresher and he was in his last year. I knew from the start he was different. He really seemed to see me, you know?”

  “I think so.” She’s looking at me closely, really listening. I love being looked at like that.

  “I never had that growing up,” I go on. “I never felt like I was seen. My dad was away a lot for work. He was a captain on a cruise ship. And Mum was… I don’t know. Maybe she never wanted to be a mother.” I shake my head. My cheeks are burning, and not from the heat. “I’m sorry. I don’t usually overshare.”

  “I don’t mind. I know exactly what you mean. Nobody has ever seen me – the real me – either.”

  “How so?”

  She taps her pendant. “A writer is only as real as their work, and I’m too scared to show mine to anybody.”

  “Maybe I can take a look one day?”

  She smiles. There’s something vulnerable about it, the same way girls used to smile at school when they thought a cruel joke was coming. “Yeah, maybe. Do you see your parents much?”

  I groan. “Funny you should mention that. I�
��m having dinner with them tonight.”

  “I take it you’re not excited?”

  “So not excited. But Mummy needs to be able to tell herself she’s made an effort.”

  Millie puffs her chest up, grimacing in the most hilariously OTT way. “It sounds like you need your knightess in shining armour there to protect you.”

  “I’d love that. But it’s such late notice.”

  “I’m not doing anything tonight.”

  “Wait. Are you serious?”

  “I wasn’t serious. But I am now. I’d love to have dinner with you and your parents.”

  I know this should feel weird. I’ve only met this woman twice. But there’s no harm in getting to know Ray’s girlfriend. And there’s something refreshing about Millie. She doesn’t seem fake and self-obsessed like so many people I know.

  “Last chance to tell me you’re joking. Or I’m one hundred per cent forcing you to eat my lasagne tonight.”

  “That bad, is it?”

  “The worst.”

  “Now I have to try it,” she says. “As long as you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  We meet eyes and she smiles. It’s been so long since I made a new friend, a real friend, who sees me for who I really am.

  16

  Millicent

  My mobile phone refuses to stop vibrating against the desk. It’s the most annoying sound I’ve been subjected to in a long time, and that includes Ray’s wheezing after we kiss.

  I glance at it. I know who it is. I know what he wants.

  He can wait. I’m busy.

  I turn back to the laptop screen, scrolling, endlessly scrolling through Hazel’s feed. Meeting her today wasn’t chance, of course. I didn’t expect to get an invite to the family dinner so easily. But that’s the way with plans sometimes. When they go awry, it isn’t always in a bad way.

  A good predator knows how to use the terrain to her advantage.

  I knew she was having dinner with her parents this evening because Hazel is a creature of the internet. Her personal Facebook is set to public. I cannot fathom the insanity of such a decision, but she isn’t anomalous in that regard.