Necessary Evil of Nathan Miller

by Demelza Carlton

  It's her. She gave her car to one of the bastards and he's here to take me back!

  My hesitation lasted barely a moment, before I realised that I couldn’t go back inside. The only way to survive was to run and hope he didn't catch me. So run I did, bolting through the garden and onto the footpath.

  I thought of Bruce's guard dogs, but didn't dare cross the road when my pursuer had a car at his disposal. He'd run me down before I could make it to the gate.

  There were some Moreton Bay fig trees in the park up the road that I might be able to climb. If I could reach them without him seeing me, I could hide up there until he gave up. He couldn't get a car into the park without drawing a hell of a lot of attention – and none of my neighbours would stand for that.

  I wasn't prepared for the pounding footsteps of him following me on foot.

  I tried to speed up, but my muscles screamed. This was the first time I'd tried to run since I got out of hospital and I wasn't really ready for it.

  I'm not ready to die yet, either. Faster!

  Over my panicked panting, I heard his breathless voice. "No, stop. Come back. You can't outrun me."

  Oh God, it sounds familiar. It has to be one of them – and I have nothing to kill him with.

  I put on another spurt of speed. I couldn't keep it up much longer, but I knew what would happen if he caught me.

  It was almost as if he'd read my mind. "Come back. Please let me…"

  No. I'd rather die than let you hurt me again!

  A hand landed heavily on my shoulder. If I'd had enough breath, I'd have screamed. Instead, I tried to shake him off.

  I hit Margaret's garden edging and lost my footing, tumbling onto her lawn. I rolled as I hit, determined to at least face the man who was trying to kill me. I wanted to spit in his face, as it was the only projectile I had to hand. Maybe I could blind him with phlegm…

  He pulled the cap off. I almost cried.

  "Angel, are you okay?" Nathan asked.

  "How could you scare me like that? Why did you…" My throat hurt too much to speak. I could barely breathe.

  "What do you think of my new car?"

  "You're…a fucking…dickhead! You're late because you got a new car?"

  "Yes." He looked uncomfortable. "I know you didn't like the old one, so I figured it was time for something new."

  His eyes kept darting every which way except my face. I followed his gaze and saw Margaret, standing with her son's hockey stick. I'd seen her chase an escaped pitbull at the park with that hockey stick. She'd stunned the dog senseless with one swipe – it'd still been unconscious when the guys from the pound showed up. She was a mean shot.

  For a moment, I wondered if I should let her hit Nathan a couple of times for scaring me. I smiled grimly at the thought, before I drove it from my head. I couldn't let her hit him – I'd need his help to get home. And we had a date tonight.

  "The car's fine. Please, help me up and back to my house," I said shortly.

  He slid an arm under my legs, but even that hurt.

  "Just help me walk," I told him, trying to steel myself against the pain I knew it would cost me. Better walking in pain than screaming while he carried me. What would my neighbours think?

  He protested a bit, but I stayed firm, so he helped me stand. When my legs threatened to collapse beneath me, his supportive arm was the only thing keeping my upright.

  I smiled at the neighbours we passed, who all seemed to be doing gardening or sports on their front lawns in the last of the evening sunlight.

  I managed okay until we reached the bottom of the steps to my front door. I leaned heavily against the rail, not sure how I was going to make it up those last few steps. Maybe if I rested for a few minutes and Nathan held the door open, I could stagger in and collapse on the couch. Maybe…No. I can't stop now. Must climb those steps and then I can rest.

  He swept me up and carried me across the threshold.

  "Rest," I heard him say, as he carefully laid me on the couch.

  With my legs screaming at me, it was hard to do anything else. I couldn't remember hurting this much – not even when the bastards had me. I vaguely remembered something about how the memory of pain fades, but I still wasn't prepared for it.

  I focussed on my breathing. If I could stay conscious, then maybe I could take some pain medication to help it go away.

  Bruce from over the road came to check that I was okay. I smiled and thanked him, heartened by how helpful my neighbours were. He'd brought the block-splitter, too, I saw. I made sure to tell him that Nathan was my friend before he headed back home.

  Nathan asked me if anything had happened while I'd been home alone and I reassured him that it hadn't. I almost told him about the new song that was taking shape, but I couldn't summon the energy to walk to the piano to play it for him. Another time, maybe.

  I started to ask about our date, but Nathan was kind enough to postpone it for another time.

  I relaxed on the couch, finally giving in to the pain, hoping it would fade if I lay still long enough.

  As if to make up for frightening me, Nathan was more caring than usual. He murmured my name as he stroked my hair, before moving my body into the recovery position I remembered from my first aid courses.

  How sweet. He thought I was unconscious. He evidently didn't know how incapacitating severe pain could be. It didn't affect my hearing, though, as he keyed in a call on his phone.

  As he spoke to the stranger on the other end of the phone, I realised he was talking to the person watching the surveillance cameras – he had backup. At first, I was relieved, then mortified, as I thought of the times I'd walked around the house without clothes on. I never wanted to meet this surveillance person. If I did, I might have to shoot him.

  Once he'd ended the call, Nathan leaned over me and stroked my neck. Before I could ask him why, he removed his hand. I heard him turn the TV on. It sounded like he was watching a cooking show. I let the commentary form a dull buzz in my brain, sitting somewhere behind the pain, until someone mentioned a dessert with strawberries.

  My stomach reminded me it was dinner time, but I'd have given anything for the dessert on the cooking show. I swear I could almost smell it, I wanted strawberries so badly. I knew I had some in the fridge, but I wasn't sure I could walk that far without hurting myself.

  I looked at Nathan, who was intent on the TV programme. I called his name hesitantly, not sure how much to ask him for. Maybe if he could carry me to the kitchen and pull up a chair, I could sit down while I washed and hulled the strawberries…

  He didn't say a word. He just held out the bowl. He'd even sliced them. I could have kissed him. I nearly did.

  He looked embarrassed, as if he could read my mind. "Eat something so you can take pain medication." He nodded at the pills beside a glass of water on the table.

  I couldn't thank him enough. I wanted to kiss him more than ever, but I banished the thought. I savoured my strawberries instead.

  Part 49

  “You’ve really recovered remarkably well,” Althea told me. “I wish some of my other patients were as diligent with their exercises as you!” She lowered her voice. “Just don’t overdo, it, okay?”

  I nodded and smiled, not bothering to tell her that, by her standards, I probably overdid it every day. I figured it was better to work hard on my recovery than to baby myself and die as a result. If I was meant to die on that beach, it was only a matter of time before they returned for me. And I intended to be ready. I had death to deliver and pain in bulk quantity.

  Nathan sat in the waiting room, impatiently tapping at the touchscreen on his phone. He looked like he was ordering hits on violent criminals, but I knew he wore that expression when he played games. He pocketed his phone before I reached him, though, so I couldn’t check to see if I was right.

  I paid for the session, booked my next appointment and walked out of the physiotherapy clinic. Nathan matched my steps, offering a welcome arm to help me walk to the c
ar. Tired and hurting, I accepted his assistance and leaned against him as we made slow progress through the car park.

  “How was the session?” he asked. “Are you recovering well?”

  “Yes. She was quite impressed at my progress,” I admitted, not meeting his eyes. I didn’t want him to know just how well I’d healed. If he thought I didn’t need his help, he might not stay with me. I could walk, but I wasn’t sure I could defend myself well enough to take them all out if the bastards turned up together.

  Almost automatically, Nathan lifted me into the car and fastened my seat belt for me. I said nothing except to thank him for his kindness.

  The drive back seemed very short, as I was lost in thought. I wondered how much longer Nathan would stay if they didn’t come after me soon. I dreaded an attack, yet if the delay meant losing Nathan, an attack couldn’t come soon enough.

  The moment I saw my house, I knew my wish had been granted. Someone had been there and they hadn’t hidden their visit, either. The front door gaped open like a fresh wound.

  Nathan dithered for a minute or two. I wondered why he didn’t call his colleagues. Maybe they’d given up waiting for something bad to happen to me...was he the only one left? He confirmed my suspicions by suggesting we call the police instead of his team.

  While he made the call, I fished through his glove box, desperately hoping for a weapon. A screwdriver, a can of pepper spray...I hit the jackpot with a pocket knife. Feverishly, while Nathan was still distracted, I folded out the blade, resolving to stab anyone in the groin who got too close. Castration sounded like a really good idea.

  I dropped the knife when Nathan came close – I didn’t want him to try and take it off me.

  His reassuring litany lasted until the police arrived, in a proper patrol car and all. I let Nathan carry me inside once they’d given the all clear – my intruders had already left. I wasn’t prepared for the mess they’d left behind, though.

  I curled up in an armchair, afraid to touch anything that might be evidence. It took me a moment for my shocked brain to realise that it didn’t matter what I touched – my fingerprints and DNA would be everywhere, anyway. Nathan’s, too.

  I saw the empty knife block in the kitchen and immediately thought of her. A knife would have been my first choice of weapon, too.

  If she’d come and gone without staying to hurt me more, she must have left something behind – either a message or something that would hurt me in her absence. The most personal place for her to do that would be my bedroom, so that’s where I bent my steps.

  Cruel and unusual were her style, so I was mystified by the mess in my bedroom. It looked like she’d gone through my wardrobe, trying on and discarding items as if she was choosing the perfect outfit for a special occasion. Killing me, I guessed.

  A flash of blue caught my eye – the dress I’d worn to my high school graduation, hanging askew on the hanger. It was the most expensive dress I’d ever owned – it cost more than my ballgown. I’d hoped one day to wear it again, but she'd shattered that dream with a slash of my scissors. I almost cried.

  From underwear I’d never worn to dresses I’d hoped to wear again – all had fallen victim to her blade. Much like me, except the clothes hadn’t fought back.

  Nathan murmured soothing words while the police officers took notes. I paid little attention to any of them. More than ever, I wanted this to be over. My fingers tightened around the filleting knife I’d found on my bed, as I crushed lacy lingerie in my other fist.

  I intended to gut her like a fish. But first, I’d seduce my sleazy roommate and see if the suggestion of sex could persuade him to stay long enough to assist with the slaughter. With his help, I might survive.

  As if he’d read my thoughts, Nathan offered, "I won't let them hurt you. I'll even take you shopping to buy more clothes to replace these."

  I left the shredded lace on the bed. Lingerie shopping with Nathan sounded like fun – and perfectly in line with my plan. I headed off to wash any intact clothes that remained, while Nathan dealt with the mess. Over my shoulder, I saw him staring at the shredded g-string I’d balled up on the bed. I smothered a smile and kept going.

  Part 50

  Her – Tied – Mike – Tom – Cut

  "What the hell? I said not her face – we need her to stay pretty." An angry woman's voice broke through the darkness.

  "She attacked me with a knife," Mike muttered.

  I'll do it again. Cut me free and I'll claw something off with my bare hands…

  "What's your excuse, Tom?" She sounded bored.

  "She tried to take her nails to my face. She almost scratched my eye. I didn't hit her hard. She just landed on her face is all." He sounded even more bored than her.

  Not Chris. Tom. Tom's the prick who first raped me, who broke my fingers, who's also going to die…I listed it all out in my head. If only I could see his face, so I could memorise his features.

  "You've got the rest of her to do what you want with. Just leave her face, is all. It'd be nice if you didn't kill her yet, too." She paused, taking a deep breath. "Who wants her next?"

  My blood ran cold. Please, not more pain.

  "I do," both men said together.

  I held my breath, hoping they'd decide to fight to the death over me or something equally stupid. Something that kept me safe from both of them, or one, at worst.

  "I haven't had her yet," Mike said. "I'd like to wake her up and give her a big surprise."

  So would I. I'd like to give you a bullet in the brain.

  "I don't like sloppy seconds," Tom said with disgust. "If I don't have her first, I'm not interested."

  I wanted to curl into a ball and hide at the memory of what he did to me first. Don't let him touch me again.

  "Sloppy seconds! Hell yeah!" Mike laughed. "You can go first, if you get her wet for me, mate."

  No, please…

  "Fine by me."

  No. Not fine at all. Fucking horrible. I froze and tried not to let them know I was awake enough to hear them.

  A hiss of breath. "Then it's all arranged to your satisfaction. You both remember what I said and have your fun. Mike, can you make sure the others know? Any more damage to her face and I'll do some damage. They'll believe you."

  "Yes, ma'am," Mike said.

  I wanted to laugh out loud. Hysterical laughter, but laughter nonetheless. Mike the big bastard had a woman boss who he called 'ma'am' and obeyed? Too funny.

  I hadn't been paying attention. Cold air chilled my bare skin, for the blankets had been ripped away. A cold blade slipped between my legs, freezing me further. The rope dropped from my legs, cut.

  "I know you're awake. You're too stiff to be asleep. Spread your legs for me like a good girl and you might even enjoy it." His voice was quiet and emotionless. "And no, don't think you'll get your hands on my knife. Try anything like you did yesterday and I'll cut you instead."

  He shoved my legs apart and I found my voice, desperate to say something that might delay the pain or stop it altogether. I heard the squeal of a zip, then the crackle of plastic.

  "Why bother? Chris's had me every night. He's more a man than you'll ever be. You're the sloppy seconds, not me," I spat.

  He grunted and I felt his weight on the mattress. "Shut up or I'll break your jaw."

  "But she won't let you do that. The bitch you work for," I taunted.

  "The bitch I work for won't care if I cut you a wider cunt, though. So shut the fuck up or I'll do it," he threatened.

  I gritted my teeth as he grunted.

  Please, let it be over soon. Or I'll go away in my head and not come back.

  Part 51

  I needed cheese. If I didn’t get cheese, the zombie mice would be hungry and they’d cry. But all I could find at shop after shop was cheddar and camembert. They’d only eat Persian feta and I could hear them crying already as I took longer and longer...

  Mice don’t eat cheese.

  I startled myself awake, trying not to
laugh at the sheer stupidity of my dream. There was no such thing as zombie mice and they definitely didn’t eat cheese.

  As I stifled my laughter, I realised Nathan was thrashing around beside me, his breathing fast and panicked. “No...no...” he murmured, the breathy whisper hard to understand.

  Nathan has nightmares. I should wake him from this one, as he’s done so many times for me.

  “Nathan, it’s just a bad dream, like mine. Please. Don’t let them...”

  He threw his arms around me, tightening them into an inescapable hug.

  "It’s okay, angel. A bad dream. You’re safe – safe at home." He choked back a sob. “You’re okay.”

  Oh God. His nightmares are about me.

  I made an excuse about needing to write my dreams down and his hold loosened enough for me to leave the bed.

  He offered to help.

  “No – you don’t need to hear this.” Not if it gives you nightmares worse than mine. “Go back to sleep, Nathan. I won’t be long,” I lied.

  I turned the laptop on, feeling his eyes on me the whole time. He didn’t go back to sleep for a while, and he was restless soon after. Feeling like a sick stalker as I watched him sleep, I waited to see if he’d have another nightmare.

  “No...not her...no...”

  I felt tears streak my cheeks at the agony in his voice.

  “Not Caitlin.”

  I stumbled back to my bed, moving as close to Nathan as I could.

  “You’re okay. Just a dream...” he murmured, stroking my hair as he pulled me closer to him. I could feel him shaking.

  I give him nightmares. I should never have told him... “I’m sorry.”

  "I'm here now and I'm helping you. No one's going to hurt you again, I swear. Definitely not her." He sounded so fierce, as if he was trying to fight off his own nightmares as well as mine. What could I say to that?

  “Thanks, Nathan,” I murmured, wishing I could offer more. Yet a small part of me whispered, Serves you right, you bastard, taking so long to help me. I tried to silence it, but the niggling thought remained.