They Won't Believe You (Scottish Dark Romance Book 1)

by Paisley Alice Quinn

  “Maybe I will one day,” Flora said with a smile.

  She took a long sip of her own drink, and Kylie thought she was holding something back. She glanced at her with suspicion. Had she asked her over for a casual drink, or was she about to pump her for information about the pictures? Had Craig put her up to this?

  There was a long pause as they each sipped their drinks, neither of them willing to be the one to speak first.

  “What’s with all the cleaning, then?” Flora finally asked. “I mean, it’s not like your place is dirty.”

  Kylie swallowed. That word, dirty, made the hairs on the back of her head stand on end.

  She couldn’t tell her about the fleas, just like she couldn’t tell her about the website. She wanted – needed Flora to like her. She was the only friend she had besides Craig. It wasn’t that she had trouble making friends, but keeping them, well, that was another story. She thought of Ruth and her heart ached. They had been so close once, but not anymore. All her relationships had a habit of turning sour.

  “Ah, here’s Craig. How’s that dissertation going?”

  “It can wait,” Craig said, remaining in the doorway. “I need a word with Kylie, if you don’t mind.”

  “Oh, don’t mind me,” Flora said. “I’ve got to get ready for work, anyway. Why don’t the two of you sit here and have your talk?”

  “Thanks, but I can’t stay,” Kylie said. There was something about Craig’s expression that unnerved her. Whatever it was he wanted to say to her, she had a feeling she didn’t want to hear it. She downed the last of her drink and felt instantly lightheaded as she made for the door.

  She didn’t even make it as far as the stairs before Craig was upon her.

  “We need to talk,” he said firmly. “My place or yours?”

  Kylie thought of the fleas jumping around her flat. “Yours,” she said, though she had absolutely no stomach for this conversation. If Craig had seen the pictures, then it was over. Her humiliation was officially complete.

  She felt for the banister and shuffled up the stairs, Craig close behind her. When they reached his flat, he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her inside. She sank down on the sofa and he drew up a chair opposite and sat there, looking at her intently.

  “I need a name,” he said.

  She blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “I want to know who took those pictures of you, and worse still, posted them on the internet. I assume it was a man?”

  She nodded, her cheeks hot with shame.

  “So, what’s his name? I’ll end him.”

  Her mouth fell open, and she stared at him in horror. “No, Craig!”

  “I want to hurt him, like he’s hurt you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly.

  “I… I hurt him too.”

  “What, you?” his eyes flickered over her body, as if he considered her too puny to do a man harm.

  “I really did,” she said. “I ran him over.”

  He leaned closer. “Did he… survive?”

  It had been raining when Ruth picked her up.

  “Thank you for coming.”

  Ruth had eyed the scratch marks on her neck and the wine-coloured bruises that were already forming on her cheek.

  “Of course I came. I’m going to take you straight to the police.”

  Kylie had felt a twang in her heart. “No, no you can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because then everyone will know, and I can’t bear it. I don’t want everyone staring at me and pointing, Ruth. I don’t want to be a victim.”

  Ruth had bit her lip. “I know it’s not easy, Kylie, but you can’t let him get away with this. I’ll come with you if you want. You don’t have to do it alone.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  He was in her head again, taunting her, even as she struggled to put on her seatbelt.

  ‘They’ll all come and look at you, Kylie. Dirty Kylie, and her filthy little body.’

  “No,” she said. “There must be a better way.”

  “If you’re going to go to the police, we have to do it now,” Ruth had persisted. “I know it isn’t easy, but they can collect the… evidence. His DNA. It will make a stronger case.”

  Kylie had shaken her head. She knew Ruth was on her side, but she wasn’t listening. She didn’t want to go through an intrusive medical exam. She didn’t want to face him in court. What she wanted was far more primal. He had taken something from her, something she would never get back. But he had also created a monster, and the beast inside her craved revenge.

  Ruth had started the car, driving carefully as Kylie winced at every pothole in the road.

  “I think you need stiches,” she’d said with a glance. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital?”

  “No!” Kylie had thumped the dashboard with her fist. “I’m not going to the police, and I’m not going to the hospital. Please, Ruth. Just take me home.”

  “I don’t like the thought of you being on your own tonight. Why don’t I take you to Cherry’s?”

  Kylie had shaken her head. She couldn’t face her right now, and besides, she couldn’t stand her latest boyfriend.

  “Well, maybe you should come to mine then?”

  Ruth sounded doubtful. Kylie had outstayed her welcome there and she knew it. Understanding as Ruth’s parents were, she couldn’t just turn up on their doorstep without an explanation, and there was no way she was telling them the truth.

  It had been raining gently as they’d headed down the country roads, and there were barely any other cars about. It had felt to Kylie like they could be the last people left on earth. A part of her had wished it were true.

  “Stop!” she squealed, and Ruth had stamped on the brakes. “What? What is it?”

  “That’s his house,” she’d said, pointing at the bungalow in front of them.

  “The lights are on. Do you think he’s home?”

  Ruth had glanced around nervously. “I don’t know but I think we should go.”

  “No, wait. I want to talk to him.”

  Ruth had squinted at the driveway. “His car’s not there.”

  “Then I’ll wait for him.”

  Ruth had shaken her head. “I really think I should take you home.”

  “Please!”

  Ruth had pressed her hands into her lap. “What would you even say to him?”

  “I don’t know yet. I won’t know until I see him.”

  It wasn’t long before Coach had pulled up, soft jazz music floating from his car window. He had got out of his car, picking up a takeaway bag from the front seat, and walked up the path towards the house. He hadn’t so much as glanced at their car. Hadn’t seemed to notice them sitting across the road from him. Or perhaps he just didn’t care. He had looked completely ordinary, like any normal man returning home from work. As if he hadn’t hurt her in the most despicable way. As if he hadn’t unleashed the darkness within.

  There was a buzzing in her head, and she’d heard his words over and over.

  ‘Dirty Kylie. They’ll all come and look at you, Dirty Kylie.’

  “Kylie?”

  Ruth’s gentle touch had felt like a knife through her skin, and she’d jerked her hand away.

  “Kylie? Kylie, what are you doing?”

  “Just wait there and keep the motor running.”

  She’d leapt out of the car, and run up the driveway towards him, ignoring the jolts of pain that shot through her.

  “Wait! I need to talk to you!”

  He’d turned slowly, a knowing smile spreading across his face.

  “Well if it isn’t Dirty Kylie back for more!”

  “You really hurt me. I could report you to the police.”

  Her voice had shaken as she spoke, and the buzzing had grown so loud she’d had to cover her ears.

  “What you did was wrong. I just want you to admit it.”

  His mouth had formed into a smirk
. He was actually laughing.

  “You can’t tell anyone. They won’t believe you.”

  “Yes, they will.”

  “No, they won’t.”

  She’d stared hard and he’d stared back. He’d spotted Ruth, sitting in her car and given her a little wave.

  “You told her, I suppose?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  He’d dipped a hand into his bag and pulled out a french fry, chewing it thoughtfully.

  “I’ve taken the precaution of spreading a few rumours about you, Kylie, so everybody knows you’re as loose as your stepmother. You might as well keep your mouth shut. Like I said, they won’t believe you.”

  “You’re wrong!”

  “Oh, and I might as well tell you, I’ve taken another precaution. I’ve got some very interesting photographs of you. Lots of them, and they’re not very flattering if you know what I mean.”

  “What… what pictures?”

  “Oh, come on. Are you really telling me you’ve never noticed the camera?”

  Her mind had reeled. All those times he had spanked her. She remembered the long pauses, waiting for him to deliver the next strike. He could well have had a camera set up. It had never even occurred to her.

  He had stepped a little closer, forcing her to smell his fetid breath.

  “You cause trouble for me and I will make those pictures public. Do you understand me?”

  She hadn’t answered him. There were tears streaming down her cheeks and she had felt utterly, desperately helpless, like nothing she ever did would matter. He had reached for her with a lazy hand and she had scurried back to the car. The handle stuck and she’d had to pull hard to get it open. She had heard him laughing at her as she’d scrambled inside.

  She hadn’t been able to look at Ruth.

  “Let’s go.”

  She’d watched him, her heart ticking, as Ruth had started the car. She’d gripped the dashboard and held her breath like she was underwater until her lungs felt like they would explode. Without warning, she’d turned and grabbed the wheel from Ruth, aiming the car directly at Coach, who’d turned his back and was now walking towards his property. Ruth hit the brakes, but she wasn’t fast enough.

  “Shit!”

  It had been Ruth who’d screamed, not her. There had been a loud crunch as they hit him, and another one as Ruth, in her panic, reversed back over him.

  “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  She’d stopped the car and they’d stared at the mangled body in front of them. He’d laid very still in a puddle of blood and ketchup, french fries scattered all over the path. It was unclear at first if he was dead or alive and Ruth’s eyes had grown wild with terror.

  “Fuck! What are we going to do? What are we going to do?”

  Kylie’s inner beast had winked at her. “Now we drive away.”

  18

  Craig stared at Kylie, unable to process what she was telling him. The idea that sweet little Kylie was capable of running someone over, well, it was so out of left field that he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “You’ve told me you ran him over,” he said, taking her hand in his. “But you haven’t told me why, and you still haven’t given me a name.”

  “Coach,” she said, hesitantly. “He was my swimming coach.”

  “Wow. So, go on, what happened after you ran him over? Did he make it?”

  She looked down at her lap. “Unfortunately for me, he did. His left leg was broken in two places, and his back was damaged. He was transferred to a place in Glasgow for rehabilitation. That’s when he uploaded all the pictures.”

  “But why did your coach have those pictures in the first place? Were you having an affair?”

  “I hated him,” she stated vehemently. “And for the record, I still do.”

  He saw the darkness that flashed across her face and it filled him too. “Just tell me his name.”

  She hugged her chest with her knees. It infuriated him, the way she guarded the truth so closely. He longed to shake her like an apple tree and force her secrets to come tumbling down, but of course he couldn’t do that.

  “I want to help,” he growled.

  “I appreciate it. I do. But I need you to leave it.”

  She’d heard the news from Cherry of all people.

  “I heard that coach of yours is in hospital. You should go and see him Kylie, I bet that would cheer him up.”

  Cherry had reached over and pinched her cheeks playfully because there was no malice in her, but Kylie had flinched nonetheless, not that Cherry noticed such things.

  “Apparently, it was a hit and run,” she went on. “He doesn’t remember a thing. Such a nice man too. I went out with him once, you know. Such a passionate lover.”

  Kylie had felt the bile rising in her throat at the thought of Cherry letting him into her bed. A flash of something had coursed through her making her feel wretched and dirty. What was that, anger, hate? It had to be hate, because it couldn’t possibly have been jealousy. She didn’t want Coach. She had never wanted him.

  Cherry had glanced around Kylie’s room.

  “You need to clean up in here, sweetheart. It’s getting dirty.”

  “I will,” Kylie had said, too dazed to really care.

  “Right, well I’ve got to go now. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

  Cherry had leaned close and she’d caught a waft of her cheap perfume. She’d imprinted a sticky kiss on her cheek and with that she had breezed out the door.

  Kylie had immediately picked up the phone.

  “Ruth?” she’d said. “He hasn’t reported us. Perhaps he doesn’t remember.”

  She’d heard Ruth cough down the phone.

  “Yeah, right. Or perhaps he’d rather hold it over us. Well I’m not playing his sick games. I’m getting out of here, and I think you should come with me.”

  “Where would we even go?” she’d asked, acid building in her belly. She had never strayed far from home. Never found the idea especially appealing.

  “I’ve got cousins up in the Highlands,” Ruth had said. “They live on a farm and they rent out holiday cottages too. There’s plenty of work up there, enough for us both, at least in the summer months.”

  “Ruth, you’re overreacting!”

  “No, Kylie I’m not. Look, I’m sorry about what happened to you, but you dragged me into this mess. The least you can do is come with me.”

  Kylie had gazed out the window at everything that was familiar. The castle and the mountains. The gulls that bickered on the fence.

  “I can’t, Ruth. I just can’t.”

  Ruth had fallen silent. She could hear her breathing on the other end of the phone.

  “Ruth?”

  “Sometimes I think you don’t want to be happy!”

  Before Kylie could respond, the line had gone dead and when she rang her back, Ruth had refused to come to the phone. Her mum had said she was down the shops or else in the bath. The next time she’d said she was in bed. At half past seven in the evening. After that, Kylie had simply given up.

  That was the last she had heard from Ruth. She had left a couple of days later, but Kylie hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d laid low and kept her head down, waiting for the police to come knocking, but they never did. And as the weeks and months passed, she had begun to move on.

  She had always felt it though, the ripples of the damage he had done. She had felt eyes on her as she caught the train into work. Men had always looked; she couldn’t help that. But their looks became more lingering, the unwanted attention more frequent. On a number of occasions, someone had pinched her bottom as she walked through a crowd, and she had whirled around, unable to pinpoint the culprit.

  She had become the subject of wolf whistling, whispering, and rumours. She had felt eyes on her every time she’d walked down the street. She had felt as if the world was closing in on her. Random men would sit too close to her on the bus and occasionally, she would feel a hand creeping up her thigh. She knew it happened t
o other women, but it seemed excessive, the number of times it happened to her.

  It was quite by chance that she had discovered the pictures. She had typed her name into Google, and up they flashed. Nasty, disgusting pictures. Pictures only he could have taken. How he had caught her smiling, she couldn’t be sure. Staring at those pictures she thought that a part of her must have actually liked it, all the attention he had lavished on her. All those painful, humiliating spankings. Why else would she be looking like that, with such a twinkle in her eye, unless she had enjoyed it? How could it not be at least partly her fault?

  The pictures were good quality and very explicit. Anyone who knew her would have recognised her, even if they weren’t tagged with her name. But the captions, they were all Coach because she was certain she had never said any of those things. Would never have said any of those things. They made her sound like the biggest slut in Edinburgh:

  ‘I love ice cream, but my favourite food is come!’

  ‘Spank my butt cheeks. The harder the better.’

  ‘I’m a real ass girl. I just can’t get enough.’

  She had stared at the pictures and then at all the comments people had posted underneath: women calling her names, men talking about all the disgusting things they wanted to do to her. She had fetched her father’s toolbox and taken out his prized hammer. She had many loving memories of him using that hammer to fix things; the screw that had come loose from her bedroom mirror, the leg that had broken off their kitchen table, the broken picture frame Cherry had bought at the market.

  He wasn’t around to fix things for her anymore, so she had had to fix this one herself. She had rubbed the hammer’s trusty blade and then set her phone down on the nightstand. Swinging the hammer high above her head, she’d brought it down hard on the phone, smashing it until all that was left was a pile of plastic and glass. She had smiled at the mess and felt a calmness wash over her. The pictures hadn’t gone away, but she couldn’t see them anymore, and that had made her feel a teensy bit better.