by Serena Lyons
Faith: No, please don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything.
Unknown: Anything? Now there’s a promise I like to hear. Leave Callum’s house right now. Don’t tell him or the police anything. I will know if you do.
I hesitated for a second. Would he really know? But then he knew that I was at Callum’s. I couldn’t take the risk. I made up some shit about needing to go to a cheerleading meeting and got out of the house trying to ignore the disappointment in Callum’s eyes.
He thinks I’m a selfish bitch, and I don’t blame him. But helping Nina has to come first. I tap out my next message as I walk down to the street.
Faith: I’ve left, I’m alone. Now what?
Unknown: What did you find in the treehouse?
I sit down on the bottom step by the street. My hands are shaking too violently for me to be able to type and walk at the same time. Is this a trick question? Does he know? Is he still watching me?
Faith: I’m sure you already know the answer to that.
Unknown: Don’t play me. Remember I have your friend. Remember what happened to your last friend I had.
Oh God. I look back up at the house. Callum has turned the lights on, and warm light is spilling out on to the street. I wish I could run back in and tell him exactly what’s going on.
Faith: I found her diary.
Unknown: Good girl, that wasn’t so hard was it? Now go back to your room and wait to hear from me again.
Unknown: Remember don’t tell anyone about this, or Nina’s never going to be seen again.
The cold from the damp step seeps into me as his cruel words invade my heart. I know I have to move, but I can’t summon up the energy.
“You okay, dear?”
I blink, looking up in the direction of the voice. A middle-aged woman is peering down at me, concerned.
“Yes, sorry bad, er, period cramp. Thanks for asking.”
“There’s a Boots just around the corner, dear.” She smiles kindly at me then moves on.
I can’t just sit here all night. I’ve got to go back to my room. I have to follow the instructions.
Idiot. I should be using this time to make a copy of everything on her [burner/diary]. I sprint over the cobbles from the Bodleian to the entrance to college.
“Watch out!” Someone yells as I push past them to get through the gate first. “Bitch.”
“Sorry,” I call over my shoulder, though I’m not really. I race up the stairs, fast enough that my heart feels like it might explode out of my chest when I get to my third floor room. I unzip my backpack and pour everything out on to the tiny patch of floor between the door and my bed.
My phone vibrates loudly on my desk making me jump. Do I have more instructions? I don’t want to pick my phone up, but I can’t ignore it. Every second I wait could be putting Nina in more danger.
My chest eases when I see the message. It’s from Callum. Last night, this whole weekend until we realised Nina was out of touch, was amazing. I knew we had sizzling chemistry, but spending the night with him was so much more than that.
Then I open his message and it’s like I’ve been punched in the stomach.
Callum: I can’t believe you. My sister is missing because of you, and you fuck off to CHEERLEADING?
I start half a dozen replies, but delete them all. No words can explain why I left in such a rush. At least not any I can say to him without putting Nina in even more danger.
Damn WhatsApp’s read receipts. He’ll be able to see that I’ve read his message and not replied.
Callum: I wish we’d never met you.
His words are right, I’d hate me if I was in his position right now, but I don’t know what the hell I can say to him without putting Nina in even more danger.
[FINISH INSTRUCTIONS FROM UNKNOWN ETC?]
What was between us wasn’t real. We were from totally different worlds.
41: Faith
I barely sleep all night, so I’m staring at my phone when the message comes in.
Unknown: Go to the Westforde College boathouse right now. Leave your phone behind. Tell no one.
The instructions are specific, but part of me wants to go against them. Will he really know if I tell Cal what’s happening? What of this is all a trick, and he doesn’t even have Nina, but he will have me after that? I could be walking into a trap.
Unknown: I will know if you tell anyone and you’ll never see Nina again. No one will.
Fuck, it’s like he can read my mind. Still, there must be something I can do. Think Faith. It doesn’t work, I’m shaking with fear and my brain seems to have stopped working.
I need to get dressed. What the hell do you wear to give yourself to a violent kidnapper who killed your best friend? Something comfortable, warm and easy to run in. I pick some black running leggings with a concealed pocket, my comfiest trainers and lots of covered up layers for my upper half. I finish with a Barbour jacket Millie gave me when she decided it was passe. It’s probably asking for trouble, but I’m not going to be cowed by Phillip or whoever is behind all this.
Should I take a weapon? I slide my keyring with a pen-knife attachment into the hidden pocket. If he finds it, I can just claim I brought my keys without thinking. I stuff some energy tablets into one of the big pockets on the jacket—something tells me I might need to run at some point and go to put my phone on my desk.
Then it hits me. He told me to leave my phone, but that doesn’t mean I can’t pass on the messages on it. I quickly scrawl my passcode on to a post it note, then write out a message for Callum. If I stuff a note under Nina’s door, no-one will find it until she gets back, so it won’t be putting her in any danger but it might help me.
I fight back tears as I quickly scribble out half a sheet of important messages bringing Callum up to speed with why I ran out on him. This might be the last time I ever talk to him. It might be the last time I talk to anyone I care about. I pull a thick envelope out of my trash can that a book from Amazon came from and use cellotape to seal the letter.
My tiny attic room has never seemed like such a haven. Such a huge part of me wants to stay in the warmth and stay safe, but I know I have to go. I put the latch down and close the door behind me. It’s ajar, but you wouldn’t notice unless you were looking for it, and I don’t think the other three students who live on my floor will give it a second thought.
I race down the stairs to Nina’s room, having to move before I change my mind and bend over to push my folded letter under her door.
“Damn!” I curse, there’s not a big enough gap for the oversize envelope to fit through.
“Are you okay?” A man with a Scottish accent asks.
I look up. It’s xxx, who has the room next to Nina. Time for a Plan B. “I’ve been better. Can you do me a huge favour?”
“Sure…” He doesn’t sound certain, but fair enough, he could be worried that I’m going to ask for money or something.
“Can you give this to Nina as soon as you see her? Nobody else, just Nina.” I pause for a second. “Unless two days have passed. Then give it to the police.”
“The police? Are you—”
“It’s fine, I’m fine, just promise me. You’ll give it to Nina and nobody else? It will mean a lot.”
“Sure, consider it done.” He’s looking down at me like I’m mad.
“Thanks, got to run now.” I pass him my letter and jump up.
I half run through town, I don’t want to get to the boathouse, but I can’t let Nina down. It’s almost like I’m experiencing some crazy trip—the entire world is acting like everything’s normal while I’m losing my mind.
Just before the river, I pass the Oxford City police station. It’s tempting to change course and go in. Surely they could sort all of this out and rescue Nina?
No, I can’t risk Nina being in any extra danger. This is all my fault as it is. I could never forgive myself if I went to the police and she didn’t make it. Even worse, Callum would never forgive me. I can’t stand the
thought of a life where he
My legs are heavy as I shudder down the steps to the towpath. What am I doing? I don’t want to be doing this, willingly going towards the person who nearly killed me last time I came down here.
But I can’t abandon Nina. None of this is her fault, I got her mixed up in all of this, so I have to do anything I can to get her out.
It’s a grey day, the sky heavy with rain and the path is mostly deserted. I wish there were people coming along, I want to act weird, get people’s attention in case there’s a Crimewatch appeal in a few days’ time.
My feet stop moving. I can’t do this. I have to. I slump down on to my heels and sink my face into my hands.
An appeal in a few days’ time will probably be too late for me. Can I really do this? Sacrifice myself for Nina?
I feel for the steak knife I bought. It lets me breathe enough to stand up and judder along a few shaky steps at a time. I thought I was strong, but I’m not at all.
I wish I’d never started any of this, I wish that I’d just accepted Millie’s death as a terrible tragedy. I’m weak. I—.
“Are you okay?”
A middle-aged man is stopped half a metre in front of me. He’s wearing silver-rimmed varifocals and a garish, orange waterproof.
“I, er, I. I’m okay, but my name is Faith Davies. Please remember that.”
His eyes blink, confused. “Do you need any help?”
I long to say yes. He looks so kind and capable, like a friendly don, or perhaps a college bursar; steady, dependable, safe. But I can’t let Nina down.
“No, I’m fine,” I force a smile. “Thank you, it was lovely of you to check. Just… remember my name please.”
He gulps and continues staring at me.
“I have to go, I’ve been… summoned. Wish me luck.”
He nods and I force myself forward. I take ten steps before I dare turn back. He’s still staring after me, a concerned expression on his face.
It’s good. He’ll remember me.
I try not to read his concern as a portent of my fate. Do I look that much like a lamb heading to slaughter?
Finally, I reach the corner that before the boathouse. I can’t look at the bushes where Callum found me, bleeding and near to death. If I do, I won’t be able to take the last few steps.
The building is lifeless, shuttered and drawn. I stagger up to the main garage doors, they’re bolted shut. Goddamit. I circle the exterior, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling like someone’s watching me.
The fire exit at the back is ajar.
“Hello?” I ask, pushing it open, letting my eyes adjust to the darkness within before I enter.
There’s no response.
I push the door, then turn to look back out to the trees. I can’t see anyone, but I can’t shake the feeling that someone is close.
This is stupid.
This is the only way to help Nina. To help Callum.
I take a deep breath and push inside.
The room is dark and cavernous. I shiver, I don’t want to step any further inside. It isn’t safe, every fibre in my body tells me that.
This is for Nina.
I clench my fists and walk into the centre of the room. The rowing boats are kept here and they’re stacked up one boat on top of another up to six feet in the air. They block the windows and cast deep, disturbing shadows along the floor. I wish I could see properly, but I don’t know if this place even has electricity.
A tinny vibration makes me jump. It sounds like a phone vibrating on something hard. I look up to the overhanging balcony; an electronic glow shines out from the upper floor. I must be meant to go up there.
I take a deep breath and head for the stairs. The building quality is surprisingly cheap for Westforde College, the steps bounce as I slowly climb them. When I get to the top, the vibrations still sound. The light is brighter up here, I can see that it’s coming from one of the rowing machine seats. I stumble over and pick up the cheap no-brand phone.
It’s ringing. The number is saved as “Your nemesis”. My fingers shake and it takes all my strength to keep holding the phone.
I have to make two attempts to answer the call, “Hello?”
“Aren’t you a nice friend?” The voice is electronic, doctored.
Ice floods my veins. “Am I?”
“If you made it this far, you’re doing it? Sacrificing yourself for Miss Nina.” The transformed voice is barely human, but somehow I can perceive the mocking behind the words. “Do you really want to do that? When she’s had everything, and you’ve had nothing?”
I ignore his needling. “What do you want me to do next?”
“Swap your phone for this one. Don’t try any tricks, I will be watching. Then leave the boathouse and carry on walking down the towpath, away from town. You’ll be contacted.”
The call ends abruptly and I sink to my knees again. This is a nightmare, it must be, this can’t be my real life.
Further down the towpath? I have no idea what lies that way, but it can’t be anything good.
I stumble back down the stairs, out the fire exit and to the river walkway. As I move, I’m certain I’m not alone, but no matter where I look I can’t find any signs of anyone else around me.
The path looks equally dark in both directions, but I long to turn left, back to the familiarity of town and college. I can’t. I have to do anything I can to save Nina. Why the hell didn’t Callum and I let her come with us to Northumberland? Then none of this would be happening?
Because we wanted to be alone. The vicious truth assaults me. I can’t let Nina down now, I’ve already done her so much wrong.
I stumble along the badly lit footpath, shivering from the dark, the cold, the knowledge that I’m willingly going to danger.
It’s late now, and in twenty minutes I don’t pass anyone. The only sound is my own footsteps crunching in the gravel and the occasional hooting owl. I am never going to wander alone in the dark again, I promise myself. As if I have a future.
Finally, there’s a dull orange glow of streetlamps from a road-bridge above the river and a path appears to the right. Just as I spot it, my new phone vibrates.
“Hello?”
“Take the right fork.” The call ends.
I spin around to look behind me. How did they know exactly where I am? Is someone watching? I can’t see anyone, but I zip my leather jacket higher.
The path is lined with bushes and twisty. I semi-sprint along it, wanting to get this over with. Then it opens up to a dimly lit carpark. There’s only one vehicle; a white transit van. I move closer, it can’t be a coincidence that the most nondescript vehicle possible is parked here.
The reflection of the streetlight makes it impossible to see if there’s anyone in the front cab. I walk closer still until I’m inches away from the window. It’s empty. My heart is banging against my ribcage. I move towards the back of the van.
The rear doors are hanging open. I step closer, but there’s nothing inside. Then heavy footsteps close in behind me and I know this is it. The devil is here, and I can’t run or fight. I have to do exactly as he tells me, or risk Nina’s life. I close my eyes and wait.
42: Faith
The person pushes me into the boot, then they yank on my arms tying my wrists up with a rough rope. My breath catches, the reality of this is so much worse than I expected. All my animal instincts scream that I’m never going to survive.
I swallow the scream I’m desperate to give. I can’t scare them. I can’t let Nina down.
A hat or sack gets pulled over my head and then the doors slam behind me. I’m in an awkward position, like I was kneeling for prayer and then someone tipped me other. I try and right myself, but it’s difficult with my hands tied uselessly behind me.
As the air pops as the front of the van opens I gently rock myself up to a more normal sitting position, and some of the tension inside me dissipates. I’m still shit-scared, but I don’t feel like I’m about to hyperv
entilate anymore.
You’re alive, it’s fine, this is for Nina. I try to convince myself, unable to stop my heart racing.
Oh God, Gran will never cope if I die. I shouldn’t be doing this. It’s a horrible choice, my life and hers versus Nina’s. How can I even compare? I want to be sick.
The vehicle accelerates. Where are we going? I should try to map it out in my head. We’re somewhere south of the town centre though, I’ve never been down that way before. I slide from one side of the boot to the other, banging my elbow awkwardly against the side of the van as we seem to take a roundabout.
It’s pointless I have no idea where I am. I won’t be able to call for help on this burner phone, that’s too old-fashioned to have GPS. Why didn’t I realise that they’d take me somewhere else? Somewhere far away from anything I’d recognise? What use was my talking weirdly to that kind man on the towpath when whoever picks me up give me taking me hundreds of miles away from where he saw me?
Oh God, I’m going to die. I can’t breathe properly, my breath is shallow like I’m breathing in something other than oxygen. I force myself to think of something other than what’s about to happen to me. I can’t suffocate in the back of this van.
What was this week’s essay for Professor Headley? I leaf through the different arguments I’d include, finally feeling like I can breathe.
I make it through the whole 3,000 word essay in my head and the car is still moving.
“Where are we?” I call out to whoever’s driving.
There’s no answer.
“Answer me, Phillip.” I demand. “You don’t need to hide your voice, I recognised you on the phone and between that and the will it all makes sense.”
Still no answer.
“Why are you doing this? Don’t you want to explain it all to me?”
I try asking again and again, but he doesn’t say anything. Then the radio springs to life. He’s drowning me out, so he can’t hear my questions.
Why won’t he answer me goddamit? My voice is the only thing I have going for me given I’m blindfolded and bound.
