TORTURED: A Novel of Psychological Horror

by Matt Shaw

  * * * * *

  Ryan sat in his living room, alone. He’d closed the curtains blocking out the outside world. Dee and the girls had gone round to Jackie and Mike’s despite Ryan’s protests. Dee didn’t listen to him and the girls didn’t have a choice either way. Dee just wanted them all away from Ryan. Two reasons; she was angry at him and didn’t want to be around him and also because she hoped the time alone would give him some time to think about what was going on in his life. He couldn’t keep letting the stress get to him. And - more to the point from Dee’s perspective - he couldn’t keep taking it out on his family. He’d been shitty ever since he had found out that his colleague was missing from their work place. But Dee didn’t know the whole truth. She couldn’t. Ryan had wanted to tell her on more than one occasion - but he knew it could spell the end of his marriage. The end of his family. His wife would hate him. His daughters would hate him. He’d be the bad guy.

  He leant forward in his seat and reached for his mobile phone, which he’d stuffed in the back pocket of his trousers. A quick search of the contacts until he came to the number he was looking for. Her number. Vanessa’s number. Of course it hadn’t been stored under her name. The number was stored under John. Ever since he found out she was missing he had wanted nothing more than to give her a ring but he was sure she wouldn’t answer. Especially if she wasn’t answering the calls from people she actually classed as true friends. What Ryan and Vanessa had - it was one night. Not even a full night. A drunken fling a few months ago, at the Christmas Party. Drunken kissing led to drunken fumbling and that led to a drunken fuck. An encounter which temporarily confused Ryan as to what he wanted with his life and an encounter which led Vanessa to believe she had a chance with him - a married man.

  “I can’t,” Ryan had told her, “I’m married. I’m sorry. That,” he had paused a moment to think about what he was going to say so as not to cause more upset than necessary, “ was a mistake.”

  He sat there, on the couch, and cursed himself for the choice of words he’d used when talking to Vanessa the next time he’d seen her at the bank. He threw his mobile phone down onto the coffee table in the middle of the room. He can’t call her. He can’t. If the police check her phone records (which they will) and see he’s been calling then they’d get in touch with him. They’d want to find out why he was so desperate to speak to her. Obviously he’d tell them it was because he was concerned for her - just like everyone else at the bank - but he wasn’t sure whether they’d know he’d had that encounter with her. Vanessa said she wouldn’t tell anyone but what if she’d told one of her girlfriends? And what if one of those had told the police. Ryan regretted that night more now than he’d ever regretted it before. It was months ago and he’d thought he’d got away with it but now it was more than possible for it to come back and bite him on the arse. He knew, if people had been talking, it would have been easy for them to add two and two together and come up with five. And when people come up with five - it meant he’d be a prime suspect in why she had vanished.

  Part of him wondered whether he should just tell the police, on the quiet, what’d happened between him and Vanessa. Let them have the full facts before they came to him with half of the facts and a handful of half-truths. He worried though that, even doing it on the quiet, word would still come out and find its way back to his family. His family - who were currently playing happy neighbours with the psychopaths next door. The folk who seem to think they’re allowed to take the law into their own hands and act as they want. He stood up and started to pace the living room as he wondered when everything had gone so wrong for him. He regretted not taking the redundancy the bank had offered. Sure it could have led them to more problems - what with not having a job - but at least he wouldn’t have ended up moving to this house. And if he had taken redundancy when it was offered - he wouldn’t have been at the Christmas party either. His sordid little rendezvous with Vanessa would never have happened. He probably wouldn’t even be aware of the fact she was missing - although, chances were, he’d still have seen the reports on the news between the programmes he actually gave a shit about.

  He picked up his now-cold cup of tea and took a swig from it. He spat the liquid back out and threw the cup against the wall where it shattered into tiny pieces.

  “FUCK!” he screamed. He dropped to his knees, onto the carpet and stared into space with his mind darting in different directions before settling down upon his neighbour, Mr. Reynolds. What if Mike and Thomas are right with their conclusions? If they were then it meant Mr. Reynolds was the man responsible for taking Vanessa; snatching her away from her quiet life. Ryan still presumed the hands, posted to the bank, belonged to Vanessa and understood it meant the chances of her being alive were slim. But, what if she was still alive? What if the sick son of a bitch had kept her alive and was just teasing the other bank employees and the police department? What if there was still time to find her? He shook his head. It didn’t matter. Mr. Reynolds had been questioned by the police, and they had found no reason to keep him in or go back to his property. As far as they were concerned he had been ruled out completely and was free to do as he pleased. If she were still alive and he was the killer - it wouldn’t be long until the rest of her happened to show up either at the bank or in the same woods where the other girls had been discovered dotted around the place. “Shit!” Ryan’s brain was trying to convince him that Mr. Reynolds was the murderer now and that he’d got away with his crimes. His brain was even trying to tell him, despite knowing how unlikely, that Vanessa was still alive next door. No hands but still with breath in her lungs. The more he thought about it - despite fighting with the various options running through his mind - the more he started to worry that Mike and Thomas were actually correct with their assumptions and that they did need to get into the house to see what they could uncover. If they did it - as in Mike and Thomas…If they were the ones to break into the house then nothing could come back to Ryan or his family. It would be down to them. They’d be the ones in trouble with the law. If they didn’t find anything then - so be it - the man was innocent but if they did then Ryan could convince them to get the authorities involved. They’d arrest him, he’d go through the justice system and - more importantly - the police questioning Ryan about that night with Vanessa would never come into play meaning his marriage wouldn’t collapse. The mess it was in now, after the arguing, that was fixable with an apology or two. Definitely fixable. Dee finding out her husband had fucked a girl a good few years younger than himself - even with alcohol to blame - that probably wouldn’t be fixable.

  Ryan clambered to his feet and walked over to the mirror. He stared at the reflection of the man who had risked his marriage for a drunken fuck and hated what he saw. There was no need for his marriage to fall apart. There was no need for this dirty little secret to come out into the open. No need at all. If Mike and Thomas are right - and Ryan got the police involved before they could take justice into their own hands - then everything could be fixed without any secrets being spilled.

  “And if they’re wrong?” Ryan asked himself. “They won’t be wrong. It’s him. Think about it. The man was picked up by the police. He only ever let Vanessa serve him in the bank. He saw her multiple times during the day. Clearly, the guy was infatuated with her. Maybe he asked her out and she said no and so he did to her what he had done to other girls who refused his advances?” The more Ryan stood there, in front of the mirror, thinking about it - the more he convinced himself that Mr. Reynolds was the man the police were looking for and that, somehow, he’d managed to throw them off his scent. What Claire had said - in the bedroom earlier - was right; it wouldn’t be the first time someone had fooled the authorities into believing they were innocent.

  Ryan hurried from the room and out of the front door, slamming it shut behind him. A desperate hope in finding Vanessa alive with Mr. Reynolds, and catching the killer red-handed clouding his judgement.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Her
kneecaps were unrecognisable now. Nothing more than smashed up mush. I envisioned the bone being but a chalky powder under the ripped skin. She’d long since stopped breathing, the shock of everything I’d put her through finally taking her to what people believe to be a better place. Part of my cruel torture being to tell them - before I start -that there is nothing better for them when they do die. There is simply nothing. Just as we remember nothing from when we’re in the womb, when we’re dead we also remember and experience nothing. We simply stop being part of the human rat race. We are simply no more.

  I lifted the sledgehammer again. I don’t need to hit her joints anymore. My work on those is well and truly done. I am, however, curious as to see what would happen if I were to bring it down upon her head with as much force as I could possibly muster. How many hits before her already bloodied face is completely flat? I’m not sure but I’m willing to find out. I brought the heavy tool down flat onto her face. The loudest crack I’d ever heard in all of my life; a sound which seemed to echo around the room along with my uncontrollable laughter. I pulled the hammer away from her face and noticed her nose had completely caved in with the force of the blow. Some of her teeth had shattered whilst other teeth had ended up pointing back into her open mouth. Her jaw was also at a funny angle with the bone from the top of the jaw line poking through the bloodied mush of her face. I couldn’t help but drop the sledgehammer and fall to my knees with a fit of the giggles. I’m glad I had taken a photograph of her before I started. I’ve already forgotten how pretty she was when we first began our time together and it’ll be good to compare the before and after shots. I only wished I’d taken it a step further and videoed the blow.

  * * * * *

  Jackie opened the door to Ryan. She was usually a friendly, bubbly woman (bordering on irritating with how happy she appeared to be) but this time Ryan was confronted by a completely different woman; a hostile one who looked displeased to see him.

  “May I come in?” Ryan asked. He felt sheepish. He wasn’t sure who’d spoken to Jackie about what he’d been saying about her family - whether it was Mike, Thomas or even his own wife - but clearly someone had been saying something to her.

  Jackie held the door open, letting him walk in. She couldn’t very well say ‘no’ when his wife was sitting at their dining room table clutching a cup of tea in her hands.

  “She’s through there,” Jackie pointed the way before she closed the door.

  “Thank you.” Ryan walked through, kicking his shoes off before he did so, and stopped in the doorway to the dining room. Dee was sitting with Thomas, Claire and Mike. Another placemat, with another hot drink, showed where Jackie had been sitting before Ryan disturbed them. Scattered on the table were Thomas’ many handwritten notes. Everyone in the room looked up at Ryan when they noticed him. “I, er, I owe you all an apology,” he admitted. “I’m sorry for how I’ve been behaving and I’m sorry about what I said about your family,” the latter part of the apology being aimed at Mike.

  “What brought this about?” Mike asked. He wasn’t expecting an apology. He wasn’t even expecting to see Ryan again after their last conversation. God knows he was surprised enough to see Dee and the girls standing on the doorstep when they knocked as he had been under the impression that the whole family had been banned from speaking to him (and his family).

  “The police are at work,” he continued, “I know why they came to see Mr. Reynolds - our neighbour. It’s because he is a customer of the bank. Well, we have footage of him being served by my colleague - the lady who went missing…” he didn’t want to say her name again as he didn’t want to sound as if he was that friendly with her. He thought if he kept mentioning her by her name - at some point Dee might have started to become suspicious. He thought incorrectly. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind. But then - his thoughts were most likely down to the guilt he felt. He continued, “They wanted to talk to him because on more than one occasion he had visited the bank to see my colleague…As in - more than once a day. The tapes showed he would let others go before him if another of my colleagues called him over. He’d let as many people in front of him, each time, as necessary until she was ready to serve him. And then, he’d go over and see her. It’s a bit strange and enough of a lead to have made the police want a chat with him.”

  “So he did take your colleague then?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ryan admitted, “but it’s odd. I was thinking about what you and your boy were saying. You know, about wanting to look around his house…See if you can find anything…”

  “You said the police let him go again,” Claire piped up.

  “You said it yourself,” he reminded her, “it wouldn’t be the first time they’d got it wrong and let a guilty person go free.” Ryan took a seat at the dining room table. “Look I’m not saying it is him. I’m not saying he is a murderer. I’m just saying that maybe it would be worth taking a look around his place, when he is out. Hopefully you’ll find nothing,” Ryan was careful to use the words ‘you will’ as he had no intention of breaking into the man’s house, “and we can just forget this whole thing…Maybe even laugh about it.”

  Mike looked him dead in the eye, “And if we find out he is the man they’re looking for?”

  Ryan locked eyes, “We let the authorities know. The families who’ve lost their loved ones because of his crimes will get some closure and your son gets some great bits for his first novel. Everyone is a winner,” he finished. It felt wrong saying ‘everyone was a winner’ but it helped him get his point across. The group sat in silence around the table - each thinking about what had been said.

  Dee was the first to break the silence, “You owe an apology to your other daughter,” she said. She was referring to Jen who was busy playing upstairs - well away from the adult nature of this conversation. “And you owe us a meal out.”

  “Fine and, yes, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve just had a lot on my plate what with one thing and another. The sooner this is dealt with - one way or the other - the better.” Ryan’s brain had almost stopped telling him that there was a chance the neighbour was innocent completely now. In his mind he was as guilty as sin, just as he was in the minds’ of everyone else sat in the room.

  Mike turned to Jackie, “Why don’t you go and start dinner?” he suggested. “I take it you and your family would like to stay for something to eat?” he asked Dee.

  “We wouldn’t want to be any trouble.”

  “It’s no trouble. Right, honey?” Mike looked to his wife for back up. She shook her head as if to agree with him; it would be no trouble.

  “Then that’s sorted. Perhaps you and Claire would like to help Jackie? Or at least keep her company in the kitchen so she doesn’t get lonely.” Mike finished. Ryan looked at him. Not only was the guy a possible psychopath but he was also starting to come across as a male chauvinist with how he spoke to the girls. It wasn’t without reason though. He wanted the girls out of the room so he could converse with Ryan about what they needed to do next. Specifically it would be a conversation about breaking into the neighbour’s house to see if they could find anything and the less the girls knew about that, Mike thought, the better. Especially if anything went wrong - at least this way the girls could deny knowing anything. Jackie led the way through to the kitchen with Dee and Claire following. None of them protested at the orders as they all read between the lines. Mike turned to Thomas, “Want to give them a hand?” he asked.

  Thomas shook his head. He knew his father was looking out for him. He wanted what was best for him plain and simple but - at the end of the day - Thomas was the reason they were all sitting around the table. He’d got Claire involved and - subsequently - Ryan and, even before that, it was his discussions with his father which had made Mike realise all was not right with their seemingly quiet neighbour. Although, in fairness, Mike didn’t need much encouragement to take a dislike to his neighbour. From the moment they had first met, back when Mr. Reynolds wife was aro
und, he thought he was ‘odd’.

  “I want to be a part of this,” Thomas said. He was smiling. The idea of breaking into someone’s house - who may or may not have been a killer - clearly turned him on and fired his senses.

  “So when are you going to do it?” Ryan asked.

  “We.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “We’re going to do it. You’re a part of this now too…”

  “I can’t,” Ryan protested, “he knows me. He comes to where I work…”

  “He knows all of us,” Thomas pointed out, “we live next to him!”

  “We’re not doing this without you. You’re as much to do with this as we are now,” Mike said. The tone in his voice was enough for Ryan to know he wasn’t joking around. “Besides it’ll be quicker if there are three of us. In and out.”

  “I don’t know anything about breaking and entering!” Ryan said. The panic clearly written all over his face - never mind the fact his voice was shaky.