by Lauren Algeo
I didn’t mind being an only child. I had plenty of friends at school that lived fairly locally, so often it was nice to come home and not have a younger sibling there. I liked a bit of time to myself to read scary books and sort my football stickers. I was one of those geeky kids who had annuals of them and tried to trade with my friends to get the rare stickers I was missing.
I spent a lot of my weekends actually playing football in the local park with my friends, using our jumpers for goal posts and all that. It makes me sad when I think of all the kids sitting indoors these days, glued to their games consoles and TVs. I feel like they’re missing out on a proper childhood.
Although I suppose I always felt safer when I was a kid. My parents let me stay out until it got dark and it just didn’t seem as dangerous as it does these days. People in the neighbourhood knew each other back then and would keep an eye on you – I don’t even know the people who live next door to my flat.
There’s a couple on one side, a man and a woman who look to be in their early thirties. They leave early for work and get home fairly late. I see the man head for the main road, presumably to the train station, and the woman drive off in a red car. I don’t know their names though. I’m not entirely sure who lives on the other side. Maybe a man, as I’ve seen the same one in the car park a couple of times. There aren’t any kids that I’ve seen lately but they could live further down and I just haven’t spotted them.
I remember one neighbour we had when I was young, Mrs Butler, who always used to keep an eye on the road from her window. She was an elderly woman and I used to get annoyed that she was spying on us, and think she would tell my mum if I was being naughty. Although I was very grateful for her beady eyes one afternoon when I was about eleven. I was riding my bike home from the park when I hit a bump in the pavement and came flying off.
Mrs Butler was outside in an instant, checking me over. I’d broken my left wrist and grazed my forehead on the pavement. She got me propped up against a tree and immediately fetched my parents to take me to the hospital. I was dazed and in pain so who knows how long I’d have been whimpering on the pavement if she hadn’t been watching me. I remember writing her a thank you letter with my good hand a few days later, and she brought me round some sweets and a comic book. I didn’t mind her watching me so much after that.
Today I made it as far as the park I used to play in when I heard the hiker for the first time. She was whispering seductively to a young man. She told him that he needed to be at his physical best in order to attract more women. That was a new one for me – hikers usually make their victims feel like shit in order to convince them to kill themselves. This one was tricking the unsuspecting man into it. Hypnotising him in a way.
He had gym equipment at home and she pushed him incessantly to keep using it, as well as guzzling steroids with numerous protein shakes. It took me about an hour to locate his house and he’d already had a dozen or so pills by then, while running faster and faster on the treadmill. Her voice was mesmerising – light but husky somehow. It oozed femininity, no doubt to appeal to his need to impress women. Every now and again she’d give a throaty laugh and her breath would catch.
She was pleading with him, begging him to take just a few more pills. Encouraging him constantly with ‘that’s it, you’re doing so well’ and ‘look at your body. I love it’. It sounds strange but she made it seem as though everything he was doing was turning her on. Her words were intimate and dripping with sex. The little moans in his mind and accelerated breathing. Panting almost, to match his rapid heartbeat.
The man lived in a terraced house on a busy street. I set up camp a little way down and on the opposite side of the road, in case the hiker was close by. I sat on the edge of a low garden wall, with my bag at my feet to make it appear as though I was waiting for someone to pick me up. I could still see the front of the house but I wasn’t drawing any attention to myself.
From what I could hear, I established that he lived alone and had converted the dining room into a gym to work on his physique. He was clearly insecure from the way the hiker was toying with him. He had a profound fear of looking fat and ugly, and was worried about not having a girlfriend. The hiker kept saying ‘at your age’ to him, although I had no idea how old that was. Thirties maybe, if he owned his own place?
Her torment of the man increased and so did her excitement, sounding more and more like she was close to orgasm. About ten minutes later, she fell silent and I knew the man was either unconscious or dead.
I looked it up on the laptop when I got home a couple of hours ago and a steroid overdose can cause high blood pressure, convulsions and breathing problems – all serious symptoms. I guess coupled with the intense exercise and energy shakes anything could’ve gone wrong internally. Poor man.
I waited outside for any more whispering. I was watching the front door to his house and nearly fell off the wall when the hiker emerged through it five minutes later. There was potentially a dead body in there and she was casually sauntering down the steps towards the pavement.
For a moment I thought she was going to walk the other way and I’d be able to follow her, but at the last second she turned to her left – my direction. I was frozen on the wall, unable to think what to do. She was on the other side of the road but she would walk right past me.
Trying to look relaxed didn’t work – my body was rigid with tension. Every instinct was screaming at me to run away, only that would arouse her suspicions and she’d be on me in a flash. Was it more natural to look down at the ground or give a few glances and a friendly ‘neighbourly’ smile? I wasn’t sure I could manage that through my clenched teeth.
I risked a peek at her face. She was composed, her features almost serene. It was a bright day, despite the cool temperature, and her eyes seemed muted to a dark brown. She was diagonally across the road and moving swiftly. In a few seconds she would be beyond me and I could get away as quickly as possible. I held my breath and tried to slow my racing heart. I just needed to stay put for a few more moments.
She must have sensed that something was off. Directly across from me, her steps faltered. In slow motion, her head pivoted to look at me. Her dark eyes narrowed instantly as she met my terrified gaze.
She looked like a ghost from a nightmare come to life. Her hair was black and wild, and her long-sleeved dress was so pale it blended into her ivory skin. She had on black tights and clunky boots that reminded me of the witches in that Roald Dahl book.
She knew that I knew exactly what she was. Her lips curved into a sneer and I felt her prying fingers instantly trying to gain access to my mind. It was time to test my strength.
Her presence in my head was almost physical. I met her just inside the door and pushed her straight back through it. I slammed it hard and bolted the locks. I heard a faint snarl of rage from the other side. Our eyes were still locked together but she hadn’t made a move towards me yet.
I felt the bolts on my mental door begin to ease themselves open – she wanted access to my thoughts and memories. I couldn’t let her find out who I was, or what I’d been up to over the last year or so. I didn’t think she’d take kindly to my attempts to kill her kin. I forced the locks back into their positions.
She began to slam against the door then, trying to use her strength to break in. I was adamant that wasn’t going to happen and the door held fast. Her attack intensified and through the effort, my eyes registered that she was moving, rushing across the road towards me with impossible speed.
I’m not certain which way the car came from but there was a deafening squeal of brakes. The hiker was in the centre of the road and she was struck with enough force to send her flying into the air, over the car bonnet. I didn’t stop to take in the make or model of the red car, or see where the hiker landed. I took my gifted chance and ran as fast as I could down the street, hoisting my rucksack over my shoulders as I went.
I did take one quick look back as I rounded the corner and saw the hiker
already trying to stagger to her feet. The driver of the car, a hysterical woman, was out and dashing towards her to see if she was ok. I couldn’t tell her to stop, warn her that she should stay away from the hiker. My legs just kept on pumping, carrying me further from danger.
I didn’t stop until I made it back to the train station. I jumped on the first one going anywhere away from Faversham and collapsed into a seat. I was wheezing dramatically and sweat was pouring down my face and back, itching under my clothes. There were a few people in the carriage who gave me funny looks and I ignored them. I concentrated on regulating my breathing instead.
The train was going in the wrong direction so it took me a couple of hours to get back to London but I didn’t mind. Somehow I had managed to keep a hiker out of my mind. I don’t know if she was weaker than some of the other ones I’ve encountered, only she couldn’t get in.
It might not sound like much of an achievement but I’m proud of myself. This means that I’m stronger than I thought. It’s the first step on my second path of attempting to kill them. If I can successfully block my mind to their power, I can get up close and personal to try more methods. Maybe some of the other things I dismissed as being too dangerous, like beheading.
I don’t feel ready for that yet, the very thought of it makes my stomach turn, so I think more observing and blocking are on the cards first. I’ll get myself as mentally strong as possible. It’ll be a long, uphill struggle to get back to where I was confidence-wise pre-devil girl, but at least it’s a start.
2nd July 2011
Today I intervened again. Sorry it’s been a while since my last entry, I’ve been doing a lot of tracking and watching. Enhancing my ability to block them. There have been no new developments or additions to what I already know so it didn’t feel necessary to add anything to the journal. I didn’t want to bore you with every fruitless trip and hour spent shivering in the cold. Now I have something worthwhile.
It’s been warm and sunny for the last few days – not exactly the weather for hunting monsters. I managed to stumble across a female hiker while she had the first vessel under her influence, rather than the second suicide victim. It was a man called Jonathan and it had taken her a couple of days of incessant abuse to break him. It was the longest I’d seen anyone resist so far.
He had two daughters who attended a local primary school. From the hiker’s whispering, I learnt that Jonathan had split up from the girls’ mother a couple of years ago and she had full custody, while he had weekend visiting rights. He hadn’t seemed particularly bitter about his ex, or the situation, at the start but the hiker twisted and manipulated the thoughts in his head. By the end of the second day, the hiker had him seething over the arrangement. I heard her mock-sympathetic words, ‘why should that bitch get all the access, you’re a far better parent.’
He’d moved to a two-bedroom flat after the split, while his ex had stayed in the three-bed semi they’d shared. The hiker tutted and moaned about his new living arrangement. ‘Why would the girls want to share a room here when they have their own bedrooms at home? This flat is cold and disgusting.’
I camped out over the road from the flat and it seemed like a nice place to me. There was a large communal garden and it was on a decent residential street. The hiker was just goading him. She began to weave her plan into his thoughts. There was going to be a summer talent show at his daughters’ school, with all the children performing, and Jonathan was going to be helping out backstage. His ex was going to be sitting in the audience, watching.
I didn’t understand it for a while. The hiker started pushing the idea of Jonathan starting a fire during the show but it made no sense to me. What possible reason was there for him to do that? It was a big hall, according to the one-sided conversation, with a set of double doors at the front and a fire escape backstage that led out to the playground. When the hiker mused over the fact the windows in the hall didn’t open very wide, due to health and safety, I began to feel a cold sweat creeping over me. There would be a lot of kids in that hall, was he really going to set a fire that could potentially hurt his own children?
It was chilling listening to the hiker deftly brush away Jonathan’s concerns. He would be a hero, she told him. If there was a small fire and people panicked, he could help everyone to safety and ‘save’ his girls. She said it would make the mother look incompetent and he could go for sole custody.
Of course that sounded crazy to my rational ears, but Jonathan was clearly under her influence. I could tell from the hiker’s amiable tone that he was coming round to the idea. No matter how much of a fight he’d put up at the start, they all cave in the end; the mental pressure is too great.
He began making preparations the morning of the show, and he went into the school around lunchtime and stowed a can of petrol somewhere backstage. I tracked him there from a safe distance and waited by the school entrance. There was no sign of the hiker but I could hear her. She kept reassuring his fragile mind that the fire would just look like an electrical or lighting fault, there would be nothing to tie it back to him.
Then she said one thing that made sense of the whole insane situation: ‘Perhaps you’ll save the Mayor too.’ That was the real reason behind it all. I quickly got out the laptop and looked into the school. It turned out it was a special show for them as the county Mayor was going to attend. Apparently it was to highlight his presence in the community and help to encourage young people.
A reporter from a local paper was going to be there to run it as a front-page story. The school was very excited, but I was filled with dread. Everyone would be focussing on what was going on in front of the stage, rather than behind it.
The hiker informed Jonathan that he was to set the fire, rather ironically, by the fire escape to block it as an exit. I began to really panic then. The kids would be closest to the fire. I hoped he would come to his senses and overpower the hiker, that his love for his daughters would make him see sense. I knew I had to do something to stop him – there were too many innocent lives at stake.
So I intervened. I bit the bullet and phoned the police. Obviously I didn’t mention anything about hikers and people hearing voices in their head, I just gave an anonymous tip-off that there would be an arson attack at the school that night. The operator tried to ask me for more details but I hung up without answering her questions.
I waited near the school all afternoon to see if the show would be called off. Jonathan left and the hiker’s whispering faded to nothing, although I wasn’t worried about following them, I knew they would be coming back to the school soon enough.
The police sent a car with two officers. It appeared to just be a routine follow up to my call. They went into the building for ten minutes then came out and drove away. They weren’t taking my warning seriously and the show was still going ahead.
I knew from the news reports that the Mayor had a couple of his own security people, from a private firm, who would be at the event. I tracked down their number online and called them too. They responded to my tip off and two of them came to the school. I saw them buzzing around outside for a bit but clearly they didn’t find the petrol when they searched inside either as they left too.
By about 5pm I became desperate and I called the private security firm again. Only this time I gave them Jonathan’s name. I know it sounds crazy, and I didn’t think anyone in their right mind would believe that a father was going to set fire to the school while his two little girls were performing, but I had to try. They just laughed at me – a cruel, taunting sound on the other end of the line. The guy said he’d met Jonathan before, helping out at the school, and I must be mistaken. He said my theory was absurd and hung up on me.
I don’t really blame him. Who would believe a stranger on the phone spouting nonsense like that? I knew I’d have to stop it myself.
I snuck into the school an hour before the show started, and before the kids arrived. No one questioned me. You think they would have been more alert given
the police and security staff showing up earlier. I strolled past a couple of people and they must have assumed I was just a parent or teacher.
I hunted backstage until I found the petrol that Jonathan had hidden. It was wedged in a small cupboard under the stage. I found a box of decorations in there to conceal the container in and walked out carrying it. I wasn’t stopped or challenged.
I spied some bushes near the playground that I could hide behind, and still have a good vantage point of the school entrance and road leading up to it. The Mayor arrived just before the show started at 7pm and Jonathan was already backstage. The hiker was still whispering, telling him that midway through the first act would be the best time to start the fire, as everyone would be nice and settled. I gleaned that he had a lighter in his pocket. Neither of them knew that I had the petrol outside with me so his plan couldn’t go ahead.
I wasn’t sure exactly how he was going to guarantee that the Mayor would die in the fire. I’ve been thinking about it since and I’m still not one hundred percent certain. The hiker did say something about locking the main double doors to the hall and I guess with the fire escape blocked off by the flames, there would only be the windows as a way out – which he’d already said didn’t open very wide. Not enough for the couple of hundred panicked people who would be trying to get out of them.
Maybe the hiker was going to use his strength to take control of Jonathan’s body? Come forward in his mind and turn his eyes black, like I saw in that nurse at the hospital when I stabbed the female. It makes me shudder to think of all the children who could’ve been killed if I hadn’t stepped in.
I sat frozen in my hiding place and waited for the hiker to discover that her plan had been ruined. Halfway through the first act I heard her whisper to Jonathan that it was ‘time’. Just like my hiker had said to me.
It was silent for a moment, apart from the wild hammering of my heart then I heard a scream of rage inside my head. They’d found out the petrol was missing. She was so angry. She screamed obscenities at Jonathan, thinking that he’d somehow done it deliberately to defy her.
