The Pirouette Predator

by Jade Wright

  CHAPTER 6

  Jesus, Piper is so predictable.

  I can't stand seeing her large green eyes well up as she looks at the camera. The way her voice cracks and her slender little fingers tremble as they clutch onto the podium.

  All the speeches the families give for their precious girls are so monotonous.

  “Please bring our darling daughter home to us-” yada, yada, yada.

  Those little sluts will never be coming back, don't they see that yet?

  After I've had my fun with them I'll tear them to pieces one by one.

  I suppose I'm a little bit like Jack the Ripper, aren't I? Killing off all the whores.

  I always did love his work.

  Perhaps I should write the police a letter, just like he did! The thought is exciting, but I know times have changed. They'd be able to pick up DNA and too many clues if I did that... and I'm having far too much fun for that to happen.

  I clutch the hood around my neck as the ferocity of the wind picks up. I'm not supposed to be here, but there's something so satisfying about seeing these families and the students suffer.

  I wasn't planning on Piper discovering the journal. At first it had made me want to punch my fist through a wall but then I realised it could possibly work in my favour.

  If I play my cards right, that is.

  I set off for the outskirts of town. To the rural, fabulously isolated industrial area where I've been spending most of my time lately.

  It couldn't be a more perfect, nondescript location. Hundreds of abandoned, partly burnt down buildings to choose from. It's a place long since forgotten about, the best bit being that no one is around... so no one can hear the screams.

  I try to keep them all gagged and bound but sometimes the ones that still have the energy manage to chew through the tape I've slapped around their pretty little mouths.

  I stop at a tiny shop selling the basics and load up on food.

  Everything I put into the basket is as fattening as I can find.

  It was delightful to watch how repulsed the girls were by their meals at first.

  They'd refused to eat.

  Didn't want to harm their sculpted ballerina figures. But now? They're ravenous!

  I can physically see them plumping up right before my eyes.

  They're dirty. The flawless make-up, the hair-sprayed up-dos, the intensely sweet scent of their perfumes have melted away with sweat and muck.

  They have become the grimy, disgusting whores I know they really are.

  Next time their families see them, in the morgue, they'll hardly be able to identify them.

  The images seared into their heads of their perfect, beautiful daughters' will forever be replaced with the filth they became before they were murdered.

  I haven't quite gotten around to thinking how I'm going to do it.

  If I can even do it.

  All I know is that my anger is so intense, I can't imagine it being a problem.

  They deserve to die for what they've done.

  I wish I could be there to see the looks on their parents faces... the confusion.

  Maybe they'll look at their daughters' with that lip-curling repulsion the girls had when I tossed them greasy fries and lumps of fat cut from steak for the first time.

  Some still cry as they put the cooked animal fat to their lips. They grimace as they gnaw with their teeth that have started turning a fantastic shade of yellow.

  Others have lost all sense of their elegance already. They devour everything they're given like the greedy, selfish pigs they've always been.

  I think about my next victim. Chloe is going to be on high alert after her narrow escape.

  Fucking bitch.

  I'm not even sure if she's going to come back to the school.

  She hasn't left her house since she got away from me.

  I see her sometimes, peering out from behind her curtains when I walk past her house – but I have no idea when she's planning on going back to school or anything.

  There's an atrocious stench coming from the basement. A combination of piss, shit and unwashed bodies.

  The blood from their cycles mottled and dried into their pants.

  Anton Chekhov, a Russian short story writer, one of my favorites, once said, 'I don't understand anything about the ballet; all I know is that during the intervals the ballerinas stink like horses.' Oh, Chekhov, they stink far worse than that right now.

  I wonder if I should play with them today.

  I do that sometimes. Put on a voice, pretend to be someone coming to their rescue.

  I love hearing their moans get louder from behind their taped mouths.

  I start to hear the scraping and toppling over of chairs as they each try to make enough noise for their saviour to hear them.

  I'm not in a very playful mood today, though. Not after seeing Piper.

  She's going to have to be taken care of now, too.

  That was never the plan. I don't want to harm her, but she's done it to herself now.

  She is just like the rest of them.

  I hadn't necessarily wanted to hurt her stupid dog either but I'd needed a leg up (ha!).

  Every time I came near that dog she'd start growling at me.

  I couldn't have her raising suspicion or causing a scene. With her gone for a few days Piper is alone. Vulnerable.

  An easy target.

  Even if that dog comes home before I have a chance to get Piper, I could outrun her now.

  She'll be weak, slower – useless really.

  I opted not to kill the mangy mutt because it's not the dogs fault and I'm not a bad person.

  I just want justice against those who have done me and my relationship wrong.

  CHAPTER 7

  My heart shatters at the sight of River who, regardless of her operation, has huge eyes and a wagging tail as soon as she sees me. It fills me with equal amounts of sadness and love.

  I don't give a shit what that note says, I'm going to find out who did this to her.

  Ushering her into the cottage, River slumps down on her bed. She's already exhausted from limping from the car.

  I'm so used to her bounding around full of energy and excitement that it's hard to think of her as the same dog.

  The vet assured me that she'll adapt quickly to three legs, but I still have no idea how to deal with it.

  I have no clue how she'll cope on our usual walks initially. I just hope I'm going to do a good enough job looking after her.

  There's a card from the vet with a short poem inside of it that I perch up on the fireplace mantle.

  It's just a cheap print out from the internet that they've folded themselves, but it's the thought that counts. It's enough to make me cry.

  I do just that, curling up in River's dog bed with her and sobbing into her fur. I stay with her for a few hours while the fire crackles away.

  We're both exhausted and happy to have each other close.

  This isn't like me. I used to be the strong one, but I can't handle it anymore.

  I feel so overwhelmed.

  I miss Robyn. I'm hurting for River. I'm scared of whoever is out there, abducting these girls.

  Could it really be Luke? Are the girls alive? Is Robyn out there? As these questions fill my mind, I breathe in my dogs new, medicinal smell.

  I'm hoping Robyn's alarm system is adequate protection. I've left River in a room where there are no sensors but the windows are barred.

  I've put my phone on loud so if the security company calls me and tells me there's been a break-in I can get right back within minutes.

  I give her a kiss on the snout and tell her I'll be back soon.

  She whimpers softly as I leave, licking sorely at her bandages.

  *

  There's a car I'm not familiar with parked outside Luke's house.

  I planned on visiting him but if someone else is there they'll wonder right away why a teacher is visiting a student after hours.

  I send him
a message instead, telling him I 'need' him with a fire emoji.

  It revolts me to press send.

  My only way back into his house safely is to flirt and have him invite me over – if he'll even do that after the other day.

  I feel like I've mucked things up already.

  While I wait for his reply, I head down to the local pub.

  My emotions are all over the place after picking up River so I really just need a drink to calm down.

  The pub is like a cavern, giving the illusion that it's already late at night. It makes my insecurities of day drinking mellow.

  I order a vodka tonic and squeeze a slice of lime over it.

  I really should be used to sitting alone in silence by now, but all I want to do is wrap my arms around myself and scream.

  I guess the background noise from the other drinkers helps. There's more people here than I expected, considering the time.

  I wonder if it's the disappearances of all the girls that's luring people into the pub before five-o'clock.

  I down the drink surprisingly fast and order another, already feeling looser limbed. A little tingly.

  There's a live band setting up in the corner, tuning their guitars and adjusting the sound.

  After the second drink everything starts feeling a bit like a dream.

  There isn't one person in the pub not talking about the girls. Potential suspects. Motives. Rumours are running wild.

  If you trawl through Facebook or Google you can get the stories of how the girls all disappeared.

  Corrie disappeared while she was on her way to buy a carton of milk for her mother. Nothing was picked up on CCTV footage.

  Angela was walking home after a babysitting job. Ostensibly, the parents had drank too much wine to give her a lift home.

  Jessica had sent her father a text message letting him know that she'd be home late from a date. She'd never told him who she was out with and no one had come forward to say it was them. There were also just a handful of restaurants in town and none of them had served Jessica that night.

  Was the text really sent from her?

  Susan lived in her own garden flat on the same property as her parents. Her bed was unmade and there was a full cup of coffee now growing mouldy on her bedside table.

  From the look of it, she'd been ready for bed when she disappeared.

  Perhaps someone had knocked on her door. Maybe she'd thought it was her parents. Yet, there wasn't even a sign of a struggle.

  Then there's Robyn.

  No one quite knows when she disappeared. They can't give me a date or a time.

  Everyone has their own theory about what's going on.

  All any of us have are kernels of information. There's nothing to go on, really.

  I have no one to share my own theory with. If I tell someone I suspect Luke, they'll want to know why.

  I guess it's a good thing I don't have anyone to tell.

  The band starts up, beginning with a cover from Mumford & Sons.

  It's a song I've always loved, from the album, Babel.

  It feels like I'm listening to the lyrics for the very first time. I'm relating to every word. The woozy eyes, the weakness I need to show. My heart stumbling on things I don't know. Struggling to find any truth in the lies.

  In this moment, it feels like the song was written for me.

  When the singer flips back his unruly hair and sings, 'Lend me your heart and I'll just let you fall,' I want to cry.

  It reminds me of Michael. Of what he did.

  Maybe it's not what the song means, but it's how I'm interpreting it.

  Maybe the song means something entirely different.

  I feel tipsy. The back of my head is heating up.

  There's a dull buzzing in my ears.

  I can feel myself swaying on the barstool.

  I'm not used to drinking much, it doesn't mix well with my medication. It makes me very sleepy.

  I've always been cautious about drinking anyway.

  Robyn and I were in the foster system from the day we were born because of alcoholic birth parents.

  We had Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. We struggled all throughout our childhoods with sleeping problems and behavioural issues.

  We were always much smaller than our classmates and before puberty the way people teased us was relentless.

  I guess we're just lucky we got to stay together throughout all of the foster homes. We got through it together.

  Sometimes I wonder what it would be like today had we been separated.

  I know alcoholism is hereditary. I know we are at greater risk of liking a drink a bit too much, but right now I can't think of another way to get through the day.

  The next song starts. Harmonica opening a Bob Dylan song.

  The band's right in the middle of the song when the door to the pub blows open.

  I can just make out two people heading down the concrete steps and ordering drinks from the bar.

  It's only as they walk by me that I realise who they are.

  Luke and Bibiana.

  My heart sky rockets with both fear and the shock of seeing him here.

  He has my sisters journal. He has my sisters journal. He has my sisters journal.

  I can't think of anything else. It's hard to contain myself after a couple of drinks, to not just go right up to him and tell him I know he has it.

  He's holding the small of Bibiana's back, guiding her to a table.

  It makes me think of that sex tape. Of the tattoo on Jessica's back. Is Bibiana next?

  His eyes flick over me with surprise.

  “Ms. Brady,” he nods, like he barely knows me.

  I know he has to be this way. Treat me like a student would treat their teacher. Nothing more.

  I wonder if he's seen the message I sent him earlier. I feel embarrassed having sent it now.

  I swallow hard and nod back at the two of them.

  Bibiana smiles sweetly at me and as they walk past I hear her giggle, whispering something into his ear.

  He laughs back at whatever she's said, smacking her lightly on the bum.

  My mind races, remembering the slap marks swelling up on Jessica's backside in that video.

  They look over at me as they talk animatedly.

  They must find it awkward to be sitting in the same pub as their teacher.

  I can't quite explain the feeling that rolls through me.

  It can't be jealousy, surely.

  Suddenly I feel ashamed that I have a drink in my hand.

  Caught in the act.

  My mind is spinning. I'm over-thinking everything.

  Paranoia washes over me as I wonder what they are saying about me.

  I haven't taken my pills today.

  I need to take my pills.

  I twist a lock of greying hair around my finger, trying not to look at them.

  Luke's positioned them at a table right in my line of sight.

  He must have done it purposefully.

  He's toying with me.

  Bibiana twirls a finger through her ponytail. Her handlebar.

  I can feel my pulse thumping in my neck. The pub is getting hotter.

  The back of my neck is wet from sweat.

  I try to calm myself. I can't have a panic attack here. Not now. Not in front of them.

  Biabana is leaning over the table towards him, chatting over the music.

  I catch sight of myself in a Bell's Whiskey mirror, like a deer in the headlights.

  My eyes are huge, bewildered.

  When the band leaves the stage I give a tepid clap and gather my things to leave.

  I'm on my way out the door when Cody bumps into me.

  “Looks like we both have the same idea,” he smiles, ordering a gin from the barman.

  I really don't want to be alone right now, so I decide to stay.

  It's the only time I see Luke glance over at me, realising I'm not alone any more.

  Two can play at this game.

 
; I don't even know why I want to make him jealous.

  I tell Cody about what happened to River. It's so hard to talk about it.

  It's then I realise I haven't spoken to anyone about it apart from the vet and police. I haven't spoken to anyone about anything in a while.

  He's a good listener. He's quiet and never breaks eye contact.

  It's exactly what I've been needing.

  After our last two meetings I'm starting to feel at ease around him, despite his obvious attraction towards me... and my sister.

  He makes it easy to loosen up. Open up.

  I order drink after drink, spilling out all of my emotions.

  I just don't care right now.

  Out of the corner of my eye I can see Bibiana's hands in Luke's. His thumb is stroking her wrist and he's giving her his smile he knows charms the strongest of women.

  It makes me want to vomit.

  I lose count in how many drinks I have, but when I try to go to the bathroom I topple off the barstool.

  Cody catches me quickly, steadying me with a strong arm.

  I can feel so many eyes on me.

  Luke and Bibiana twist in their seats to watch me.

  Bibiana covers her mouth, muffling her laughter. I see Luke shake his head, comment something and look away from me.

  I'm embarrassed and want to go home.

  I need to take my pills.

  Cody helps me up the steps and puts me into his car.

  The smell of the leather seats is overpowering.

  I roll the window down, gulping down the fresh air as his car creeps along the main road.

  “I know it can't be easy for you with Robyn being gone,” he's saying. His words float through me.

  I nod and shake my head at the same time, not sure which one to do. Yes, it's hard. No, it's not easy.

  “I'm here if you ever need to talk.”

  He pulls up outside of the cottage.

  I have a sudden wave of nausea. He sits me down on the pavement and tells me to breathe in deeply.

  He's stroking my back and brushing my hair from my face. His touch is soothing. Confusing.