Crammed between the wall and the man’s huge frame, she wriggled away, desperate to break free from his grip. But when she was barely two footsteps away from him, he yanked her head back sharply, pulling her by her hair and slamming her back up against the wall.
He was enraged.
Like the devil himself, his eyes ablaze with fury, he head-butted Lizzy with full force, straight in her face.
Lizzy’s head whacked against the bricks as her nose exploded. Blood cascaded down her face, down her clothes, covering both her and her attacker. Then she fell. Disorientated, her ears were ringing, her vision blurred. She slumped to the floor.
All the while, she was aware that if she allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness she’d never wake up. He’d kill her.
So she fought to keep her concentration. Focusing on anything she could just so that she didn’t black out. She needed to keep her mind focused. She could feel the icy coolness of the concrete beneath her. There was a sharpness digging into her leg, like she’d landed on a stone. She kept her mind on that. On the sensation of the cold floor beneath her.
Crouching down, Christopher stared the girl in the eyes. She was a feisty bitch this one, she put up a brave fight. It was a fight she wasn’t going to win. His balls throbbed in pain and in neediness.
Grabbing her by the throat, he could feel himself getting hard this time. The violence always did this to him. He felt suddenly powerful, insatiable.
His eyes were going to be the last thing this girl would ever see. His body would be the last thing forced upon her.
Lizzy was vaguely aware of the man pulling her legs apart, still gripping her by the throat with one hand. She tried to stay awake, but her head was throbbing in agony and she could feel herself slipping.
Maybe if she closed her eyes for a few minutes, then the pain would go away. Maybe if she just gave in to oblivion, her ordeal would soon be over.
Then she thought of her beautiful friend Paige. Her best friend. Now missing, her dead bloated body lost to the Thames.
Lizzy wasn’t ready to die.
Unable to fight her attacker off, Lizzy reached her hand around underneath her thigh, grimacing as she felt the damp patch of urine. She was so frightened that she hadn’t even realised that she’d wet herself.
She could feel her jeans being pulled down. He was yanking her legs out of them, all the while pinning her with one of his huge hands up against the wall.
Crying, she felt desperate. She didn’t want to die like this.
She couldn’t.
She felt the sharp object that was poking into her leg. It was a shard of glass from a broken bottle. It was far too small to do any damage, but Lizzy continued to feel around the floor near to her, her hand searching the pavement frantically for anything she might be able to use. Desperate now, she was running out of both options and hope fast.
The man continued to squeeze at her throat. His other hand was on her knickers now. Yanking them roughly over to one side, he was pushing himself on top of her, crushing her already struggling lungs as they fought for air.
His eyes never leaving hers, he was silent now. Just staring into her eyes completely mesmerised by her fear and panic. He was just waiting for her to give up and die.
Then he could take her. Like he’d taken her friend.
Feeling something cold and sharp, Lizzy grabbed the object with her hand. It was the rest of the bottle. Holding one end, she faced the jagged glass out, ready to strike. Lurching forward, she stabbed her attacker repeatedly in the face with it.
Christopher let go of her throat, and put his hands up to protect his face. He was too late to shield himself from her final blow.
Hearing an awful popping sound as a large shard of glass penetrated his eyeball, slicing through it, Christopher recoiled backwards. He screeched in agony at the excruciating pain that exploded inside his head.
Gratefully breathing a huge gulp of air deep into her lungs, Lizzy got up onto her feet, taking her chance. Disorientated and covered in blood, she ran for her life.
Chapter Forty-Four
‘I’m coming,’ Cassie shouted, as she stifled a yawn and threw the covers off her. Jesus Christ, Nathan had only left a couple of hours ago; the way he was banging on the door you’d think he had been gone for a year. Maybe it was time to give him a key. After all they were technically family now.
Padding down the hallway to let him in, she glanced at her mobile. It was almost 4 a.m. Shoving her phone back into her pocket, she was surprised that Nathan had even bothered to come back seeing as it was so late. He’d seemed so pissed off when he’d got the call from Christopher earlier, dragging him out of bed. He’d said that he’d see her tomorrow, that he didn’t want to disturb her again. Now he was knocking at the door, she was secretly glad he had.
She hadn’t really slept since he’d left anyway; too excited, she’d lain awake thinking about him and the baby. She could still see the smile on his face as the news had sunk in that he was going to be a daddy. He had been genuinely happy, just as she’d hoped he would be.
‘If this is your idea of an early morning wakeup call, Nath . . .’ Opening the door, Cassie’s smile faded and she let out a shriek. Christopher was leaning up against the door, covered in blood, and holding his face.
‘Move out the fucking way.’ Staggering inside the flat, he pushed Cassie roughly as he made his way through to the lounge.
‘Oh my God, what’s happened? Where’s Nathan? Is he okay?’ Cassie’s hand was over her mouth. Taking a quick glance outside her front door, she saw that Christopher was alone.
‘Christopher, where’s Nathan?’ Closing the front door, her heart lurched inside her chest as she realised that something very bad must have happened tonight.
‘How the fuck do I know where Nathan is? What about me? My fucking eye’s hanging out of my head.’ Christopher moved his hand away to show her his injury and he could gauge by her reaction how bad it must be.
Heaving at the sight of his now mangled eyeball, Cassie tried to remain calm. There was just so much blood. His face was spliced open, and the blood was trickling down his hand, and all over the floor.
‘Jesus Christ, what happened to you?’
Christopher didn’t bother to answer; instead he ignored her as he emptied out a baggie of cocaine onto the coffee table then, squatting down on the floor next to it, he leant over and inhaled, not even bothering to sweep the pile of white powder into any form of a line.
Leaning his head back on the seat of the chair behind him, he breathed in heavily as he waited for the drug to kick in.
He couldn’t see anything out of his eye. Nothing. The throbbing pain inside his skull was becoming unbearable. He didn’t know how he’d even managed to drive here, to stay conscious through the agony.
He just needed something to help take the pain away.
To help him cope again.
That bitch had fucked him up good and proper. His eye was gone. She’d blinded him.
He was royally fucked.
For the first time in his life, no matter how much gear he snorted, he was struggling to gain back any sort of control.
‘I don’t think that you should be doing that, Christopher, you need to get to hospital.’
Leaping up, wired now that the drug was starting to kick in, Christopher squared up to Cassie, staring her hard in the face. ‘What the fuck do you know about what I need? You don’t know jack shit about me.’
Christopher paced around the room. Newly energised, he was raging with himself for not sorting the girl out the first time round, when he’d seen her down at the river. Leaving a witness had been foolish, but he hadn’t given the skanky druggy much credit at the time. She had looked so out of it, he hadn’t been worried. Afterwards, when his paranoia had kicked in, that’s when he had started to worry. So, he tracked her down, start
ed to follow her.
He’d been right to. He’d seen the way she had looked at him, at his car.
She remembered him.
She knew what he looked like. What he’d done.
He needed her gone.
She’d go to the Old Bill for definite now, he was sure of it. It wouldn’t take them long to catch up with him, and if she led them to that other girl’s body, he’d be over. Especially once they linked up the other girls that had disappeared.
‘Fuck!’ His temper getting the better of him, he kicked the TV right off the stand, watching it smash loudly on the floor. He felt like a caged animal. Like he was trapped. Paranoid that any minute now the police would turn up and arrest him.
Holding her hand over her mouth, Cassie tried to stifle her whimpering. She’d never seen Christopher like this. He was always crazy, always unhinged. Nathan had told her how he thought he was slowly getting worse. Nathan had said how, fuelled by drugs, his brother was becoming out of control.
He was right.
Christopher looked like he had lost the plot. Stomping around the room now, mumbling to himself, Cassie was watching in horror as Christopher psyched himself up into a frenzy. The last thing Cassie wanted to do was give him any reason to attack her.
She had to think about the baby, and try to keep calm.
‘Christopher, whatever it is that has happened, I can help you.’ Despite her voice shaking as she spoke, Cassie somehow remained composed. She was in work mode; she was trying to stay detached.
‘What the fuck can you do, huh?’ Christopher sneered. ‘You’re a fucking cunt just like the rest of them. Fucking women. Ruin everything.’
Christopher was riled. All he could think about was that fucking bitch running to the police. He felt stupid, weak – all the things he had fought so hard not to feel. He felt them all at once. Suffocating him.
Then he flipped out.
Needing to vent, he started smashing up everything around him: the table, the ornaments, the dining chairs. Caught up in his blind rage, he was like a man possessed.
Petrified, Cassie ran for refuge. All she could think about was the baby.
She needed to protect herself.
She needed to protect her baby.
She didn’t know what had happened tonight, but whatever it was, Christopher was completely out of his mind.
Locking the bathroom door, she dragged the wash basket over and wedged it under the handle. Not that it would offer much protection, but there was nothing else in the room. Huddled down in the corner, under the sink, she listened as Christopher continued to tear up her flat in his rage. Smashing glass, stamping on things.
There was nothing she could do but pray that one of her neighbours would hear the commotion and call the police. Or that Nathan would come back.
Then, she remembered. Her mobile phone, it was in her pocket. Fumbling awkwardly with shaking hands, she dialled Nathan’s number.
She wasn’t sure if he’d even pick up. If he was even okay.
It just rang. No answer.
Listening to the ring tone, she suddenly realised that the ruction in her flat had stopped. The loud destruction had quickly turned to eerie silence and Cassie, unaware of what Christopher was doing now, wasn’t sure which she found less disturbing.
Placing the phone back in her pocket, she listened hard. Maybe he’d left? Maybe he’d burnt himself out? She thought about getting up to see. Then she decided to wait a few more minutes, in case he was just temporarily preoccupied, shoving more shit up his nose.
The flat was so quiet now that the only sound she could hear was that of her erratic breathing, and her racing heart.
There was a noise.
Something outside in the hallway. Quiet now, but like someone was there.
Then came an almighty bang, as Christopher’s foot burst through the bathroom door. Snapping the wood clean off its hinges, and sending the washing basket flying, the door slammed hard against the wall opposite.
Cassie’s scream echoed loudly, as she held her hands up above her head to protect herself.
‘Christopher, please, think of your brother, think of Nathan.’
Her words were no use.
Crying now, she held her stomach protectively as Christopher ignored her pleas.
Grabbing her viciously by her hair, he dragged her up onto her feet.
Chapter Forty-Five
‘Don’t lose your head, Harry. We need to be careful, and suss out whether they have weapons.’ Raymond could tell that Harry was ready to explode. Crouching down in the dark corner, Raymond could see the girls clearly from his position. If he could, then Harry, squashed down behind him, must be able to as well. They looked a right state, but they were unharmed at least.
The O’Sheas were still here, standing near to where Kelly and Evie were sitting, tied to their chairs. Harry’s face had gone a deep puce colour and he was holding his chest, enraged that the two men had the nerve to even think about scaring his two daughters like this. And what the hell was Evie doing here anyway? She was meant to be at home; he thought that she’d gone back to bed.
Harry scanned the bar.
Micky, the tall lanky fella, was holding a baseball bat, while the short porky one, Jimmy, had a gun. He and Raymond were both armed. Against the two men, they’d come out on top, he was sure. He couldn’t do anything until the O’Sheas moved away from his girls. There was no way that he could risk either of them getting hurt.
‘I’m going to check upstairs, Micky. Make sure the kids haven’t heard these two whiney bitches making a racket down here. I’ll be two minutes tops.’
Micky nodded. The girls were tied up, and he had hold of Jimmy’s bat, so his brother could take all the time he wanted to. Especially if it meant that he’d get a few minutes alone with the pretty younger girl.
Walking over to where they sat, Micky ran the bat up Evie’s leg, enjoying himself as Evie shuddered at his suggestive movement.
‘You cold, darling? Want me to warm you up?’ Leaning down, he grabbed her chin in his hand, pulling her face upwards so she was forced to look at him. She was a beauty alright. It was just a shame that they weren’t able to stick around and have more fun with the girl, but he knew that Jimmy had strong opinions on fucking about with the women they dealt with. It wasn’t something that he condoned. It was the only way the two of them differed when it came to work.
Jimmy kept business as exactly that: business. Whereas Micky liked to have his fun.
Leering at Evie’s chest, the way her pink blouse gathered between the buttons, he just couldn’t resist. Jimmy was upstairs. Having a little look at this young one’s tiny pert titties wasn’t going to hurt anyone.
He wasn’t going to touch her or anything.
‘Once the fire gets going it’s going to get awfully hot in here.’ Micky licked his lips as he leant in and started fumbling with the girl’s shirt.
Evie squirmed, trying to shake him off but too restricted to move. The rope was cutting into her hands as it was. Her hands tied behind her back, she couldn’t stop the man.
‘Please, no,’ Evie cried as Micky slipped his fingers inside the gaps of her shirt, gripping between the buttons and roughly pulling the material apart. As he ripped Evie’s top open, the tiny buttons fell to the floor. Screaming as the man pawed at her, Evie was scared about what he’d do next.
‘Get the fuck off her.’ Kelly kicked her feet out. She tried to catch his leg, but he was a couple of feet away, and she couldn’t reach him.
Raymond had been pulling Harry back up until now, but seeing this cunt roughing Evie up, Raymond was seeing red himself. They couldn’t just sit back while that filthy animal was touching Evie like that.
Jimmy was upstairs – now was their chance.
Rushing out of their hiding place, Harry pointed the Glock directly at
Micky’s head.
Micky, hearing the noise, turned towards the sound behind him. He’d been so caught up in the girl that he looked genuinely shocked to see the two men standing there.
‘Put your fucking gun down now, and don’t say a fucking word. Or I’m going to blow your brains all over that fucking wall behind you.’ Harry meant every word of it too.
Seeing Evie and Kelly tied up and crying was one of the most despicable, frightening sights he’d ever had to endure. They were his babies, his children. This scumbag deserved to die for even thinking about harming a single hair on either of their heads.
Micky lowered the gun to the floor. Slowly he stood back up and raised his empty hands up into the air.
‘Move out the fucking way.’ Harry nodded to Micky, and pointing the gun he shooed him away so that he could get to his girls.
Micky moved to his right. He still had his hands up in the air, while Raymond kept his gun on him the entire time, unwavering. He wanted to shoot the bloke there and then, but with the kids asleep upstairs, he didn’t want to alert Jimmy O’Shea that he had company.
‘Kelly, Evie, darlings, it’s going to be okay.’ Crouching down on the sodden floor, and placing his gun down, Harry pulled Evie’s top back around her as he tried to cover up her exposed bra. The girl looked petrified. ‘It’s okay, sweetie. I’m going to sort these bastards out. You’re going to be just fine.’
Untying Evie’s hands as he spoke he wrapped his arms around her, tightly hugging her to him. Protecting her. Just as he had always done.
‘What the fuck are you grinning at?’ Raymond asked as Micky looked straight past him, with a snidey smirk on his face. Then turning to see what Micky was looking at, Harry saw that Raymond was faced with Jimmy. He was standing directly behind him, pointing a gun at his head. He must have sneaked around the back way.
‘What’s this, a family group hug? Very cosy. Get up!’ Jimmy sneered as he ordered Harry to get back up onto his feet. All the while, keeping his gun aimed at Harry’s armed sidekick.
‘You’re making a fatal fucking error, Jimmy, my man.’ Harry gritted his teeth as he spoke. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re playing at?’ Standing up, Harry looked down at his gun, on the floor next to Micky’s. He’d have to be quick if he was to reach one of them before Jimmy reacted. Too quick. It was impossible.
Bad Blood Page 25
