Dead Broken - Psychological Thriller / Horror

by Gerard Gray

  I turned to face the dog. She looked like she wanted to go for a walk now.

  “I’ll get your lead, Lucy. You must be desperate.”

  I removed my phone from my pocket to check the time. On doing so I noticed that it had several unread messages. They had kept on coming, but I hadn’t read a single one. I walked through to the bedroom to see the book lying beside the bed. I clicked on the phone and pressed to see the first message. It was one of five from Steven Thomas. The message was short and to the point:

  “It’s rude to cut someone off in mid sentence.”

  I could feel the anger building in my guts – the nerve of the prick. I picked up the book in my hand. That bastard had blackmailed the wrong person here. Nothing on God’s green earth was going to convince me to give it back to him now.

  Put the book in the bin.

  “You know, dad, for once in my life I think I might just listen to you.”

  But I didn’t put it in the bin.

  Steven’s next messages made damn sure of that.

  Chapter 13

  Messages

  The texts from Steven Thomas got progressively weirder. The first one had been an insult, the second the address to return the book to. The third one had my jaw hitting the floor. It spanned two messages in length and read: “As you are bringing me my book anyway, could you pick up my messages from ASDA around the corner – that’s what you Scottish call shopping, isn’t it? Just give them your name, quoting the ref no AS453364. They know you’re coming.”

  I found myself repeatedly flicking back and forth between the two messages. I couldn’t believe what I was reading. Was he having a laugh? No fucking way was I getting him his messages. Who the hell did he think he was? Get him his messages? Fuck off.

  It wasn’t until I read the last message in the list that I decided to do as he had asked. It simply read: “Tiddles.”

  *

  Lucy and I went for one final walk before leaving for the hospital. The walk took us along an old railway line now paved over to create a rustic path. It ran around the back of my mum’s house and then on into the heart of the countryside. I remember the twilight sky being cool and crisp with a couple of supine clouds dozing lazily. The fields and trees spanned the skyline as the town came to an abrupt halt. The autumnal scene was breathtaking, enough to relax any troubled soul.

  I walked along the leafy path, talking to Lucy. I still wasn’t sure about my mum. Something didn’t ring true here. Just before leaving the house, my mum’s GP had called to ask about her. On telling him that it was Paget’s he sounded confused and mumbled something about the markers indicating something else. He didn’t push it, though. He finished the call by saying that if it were Paget’s then he was very pleased. “She’s a lovely lady,” he simply said. I thanked him, but was left unnerved by the whole conversation.

  “Markers? What bloody markers?”

  A fellow dog walker passed me by on the lane, interrupting my chat with Lucy. I waited until she was far enough away before resuming my conversation: “Well, Lucy, let’s hope they know what they’re doing. I don’t know what either of us would do without that lady.”

  Steven’s text messages suddenly appeared before my eyes. I had decided earlier that I was having nothing more to do with the nutter, but doubt was creeping into my convictions. By the time I had finished my walk I had realised just how much of a hold this man had over me. I cursed myself over and over again for having told him about the cat. What the hell was I thinking? Bloody typical; I had learned nothing. Human beings never failed to disappoint me.

  “Well, the damage is done, Lucy, so no point stressing over it now.”

  The only important thing here was to make sure that my secret went back to London with him, and that it never returned. Steven wasn’t to know this, but the worst thing he could possibly do was tell Karen. It would be the final straw.

  What happened to us? We used to be so much in love, and not so long ago. Is this what happens to all relationships in the end? You end up sick of the sight of each other. In saying that, had she not always been there for me when it mattered most? Had she not been worried and sympathetic when I had been lying in the hospital bed?

  Why don’t you talk to me?

  I think the communication broke down between us the moment I got out. I didn’t even tell her about the police line up, at least not at first. It wasn’t until it was over and done with that I told her what had happened, that I had made a mistake, that I had accused an innocent kid.

  God, she was furious. I think I almost had a breakdown at that point. In fact I did have one. For the next two months I didn’t leave the house, and when I eventually did it was only to go to work. Prozac had seen me through those days – an old friend – but I was no longer taking it. I was determined not to let the neds have a hold over me, and the first hold that had to go was Prozac.

  I shuddered on remembering the look on Karen’s face the day I had told her about the line up. God, if she had acted like that over a stupid police parade, what would she do if she found out I’d killed a cat? She’d leave me for sure.

  And what about the next-door neighbour? If he found out that I’d killed his son’s cat he’d probably beat me to a pulp – he was a big man. It was no more than I deserved. But even if he didn’t kill me, he would tell the whole street what I’d done at the very least. My children would grow up the sons of a cat killer. By the time they were ten years old they would hate the very ground I walked upon.

  I suddenly felt sick. It was clear to me that the priest’s brother was a nutter. I shook my head. “I am never telling anyone anything ever again, Lucy.”

  I pulled hard on her lead as she attempted to veer off towards some interesting smell or other. I was getting angry, so the tug had been a bit too forceful. Lucy let out a yelp. On hearing her I backtracked, bent down and apologised.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy. I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. None of this is your fault.” Lucy stuck her cold, wet nose into my face and gave me a lick.

  “I’m going to have to take his book back to him, Lucy… And I suppose I should pick up his messages on the way.” I shook my head. I still couldn’t believe he had asked me to do that.

  Lucy stopped to smell a pile of brown leaves, and this time I let her do it. She was probably sniffing some other dog’s piss. I wiped my face on remembering that I had just let her lick me. Yuk.

  *

  On leaving the hospital that night, I had promised my mum that I would be back down to see her in a day’s time. I had already contacted my project manager to let him know that I would be off for the rest of the week. He was fine with this, although, he did ask me if I had started the presentation yet. I told him “no”, a sickness rising in my throat. He didn’t sound pleased, but said nothing more on the matter. I would deal with that particular thorn later.

  I didn’t want to worry Karen anymore than she already was, so I decided not to tell her about me going to visit the priest’s brother. It was just after six in the evening. I still had plenty of time to pick up his messages.

  I know… I couldn’t believe I was doing it either. I laughed sardonically on remembering an anecdote from my recent past, yet another example of how stupid I was. It had taken place in a shop that specialised in bottles of oil and vinegar. I had intended on getting my friend a bottle of Balsamic vinegar as a house-warming present. None of the bottles had any prices on them, so I picked up the first one that came to hand. It had looked nice enough.

  I stood in line for a couple of minutes until it was my turn to be served. A long queue had appeared on my shoulder. I handed over the bottle. The girl scanned the barcode, but then looked at me questioningly.

  I stared back at her, not knowing what the issue was. And then she hit me with it. “That will be £199.98 please.” I stared back at her for a couple of seconds before realising that the woman to my right was staring at me as well, waiting to hear my reply, no doubt. I was slightly shocked by the price
to say the least, but the way that everybody was looking at me was somewhat grating. I think they thought that I couldn’t afford it. I was dressed rather scruffily, like a student.

  The shop girl was giving me all the time in the world to put my hands up in the air and admit that I had made a mistake, but I wasn’t going to do that. To hell with the snobby bastards, I was just as entitled to buy a £200 bottle of vinegar as the next millionaire. How dare they think I couldn’t afford this fine bottle of vinegar. Sure I had only intended on forking out a tenner – at the most – but manly honour was at stake here.

  “Credit card OK?” I said. I forced the rising sickness deep, deep down into my guts. I would deal with that material pain later.

  “You’re taking it?”

  “Of course.”

  I remember handing the present over to my friend’s wife and thinking that they would never know what they had in their kitchen, and of course it would have been rude of me to tell them. I laughed on remembering what I had almost said to her as I handed it over: “On behalf of Karen and myself, but mostly myself, please accept this small token of my stupidity.”

  And here I was being stupid again.

  By lucky chance I knew the street that the priest’s brother was staying on. It was a large row of tenement houses situated just off Paisley Road West. I pulled into ASDA the moment I swung off the motorway. It sat beside a large Police station just off Bella Houston Park – I knew the station well.

  Right enough, all I had to do was give the ASDA receptionist my name and the reference number. She reached down and retrieved a large box, and for a second I almost thought I caught her sniggering, but I dismissed the thought as quickly as it had arrived. I signed my name and then headed back to the car. I placed the box on the back seat beside the book and then proceeded to drive to the priest’s brother’s house, which was just to the right of the police station.

  As I drove I began to think of my children. I had only been away for a day, but I had missed them. I missed their smiling faces; I hadn’t seen Depp in almost three days. I wanted to get back home to the pair of them as quickly as possible.

  My phone beeped. There was an answer machine message, but I hadn’t heard it ring. I mustn’t have had a signal in ASDA.

  I drove into the street and quickly found the building I was looking for. The garden was tiny, surrounded by a large, unkempt bush. I parked the car, reached across the back seat and heaved the ASDA box into the front along side me. It was a struggle but I finally managed it.

  I looked at the phone. Maybe it was important. I better listen to the message. I waited for the electronic beep and then my mum started to speak: “Pete, it’s your mum here. I’m phoning from the hospital. The lovely nurse brought me a phone.”

  I chuckled. Where else would she be phoning me from?

  “I’ve just had a word with the Doctor, and he asked me if he could talk to you as well. I told him you weren’t here, but he said it would be OK for you to phone him. He’s expecting your call. Goodnight and God bless bonny lad.”

  The message ended.

  That was weird. Why did the doctor want to speak to me? He had never needed to speak to me before. She didn’t sound that upset, but still.

  Well, it was too late now. I would need to call him in the morning. I laughed again. She hadn’t even told me the doctor’s name.

  I picked up the book and stared at it. I couldn’t be bothered talking to that blackmailing bastard. I was tired and wanted to get home to see my children. I opened the flap to put the book inside but suddenly stopped. I hadn’t expected to find what I was looking at. I reached into the box and pulled out a large, blue package. It looked like a child’s paddling pool. I placed it to the side and then pulled out a kitchen knife followed by a pair of industrial size scissors. A rubber ball with a strap attached to it was next. But it was the final items in the box that baffled me most of all. Was it really what I thought it was? It couldn’t be. It was. They looked for all intents and purposes like a couple of women’s vibrators.

  I rested one of the boxed gadgets on my lap and stared out of the window. I didn’t even know ASDA sold women’s vibrators.

  Fuck! I almost jumped out of my skin. A face had appeared in the window right beside me.

  “God,” I said, dropping the gizmos onto the floor.

  “You made it?” he shouted, his face beaming.

  I blanched on realising that I was sitting with all his messages lying beside me on the seat. He looked at them and smiled.

  “And you brought me my toys! Good lad. Bring them in, there’s a good chap. First flat on the left.” And just like that he disappeared into the bushes and down the path.

  I quickly piled all of the items back into the box, embarrassed at being caught in the act of raking through his shopping. I couldn’t believe he actually caught me with his vibrator on my lap. Well, at least, I thought it was his vibrator.

  I didn’t want to think about it.

  I struggled up the garden path, wincing. I had planned on strutting up to the door with his goods, chapping loudly and then running away. Instead I found myself stumbling and tripping up the path like a child wearing his dad’s size ten slippers. He had left the front door wide open for me. I walked in until I reached the first door on the left. It was open.

  “Come in,” he shouted.

  I let out a nervous sigh as I gingerly crossed the threshold of the flat. I hadn’t intended on going in. I hoped to God he didn’t want me to stay for a drink.

  “I’m sorry, but I need to go. I’ll just put them down here. Your book’s in there, too.”

  Steven came swaggering down the hall, but instead of greeting me he walked right past me, slamming the door shut.

  I was taken aback by this, but didn’t have time to complain. The man about turned, raised his hands high into the air and brought the full force of his fists down onto the crown of my head. I can remember the expression on his face as he did this. His countenance was that of a determined man, but incongruously he was smiling, smiling like an imbecile.

  I lay prostrate on the floor for a couple of stunned seconds, and then he was upon me. I struggled feebly as he placed something over my face. I gagged and squirmed and fought as best I could, but to no avail; the man was too big and too powerful. The last thing I remember was the smell of stale BO mixed with chemicals, and the gut wrenching feeling that I might be about to die.

  I think it would have been better all round if I had of done.

  Part 2

  The Nightmare

  Chapter 14

  Into The Dark

  I darted my head around to see if Karen was awake. She was dead to the world. My pillow was wet from sweat, or perhaps tears. I wiped my eyes. Right enough I had been crying in my sleep. My heart was still thudding, which was understandable. I’d had a terrible nightmare.

  I quickly but quietly pulled my body up and spun myself around until I was sitting on the edge of the bed. One thought was in my head, an all-consuming emotion that I had never fully grasped before: I loved them. I loved them more than life itself. I darted a glance towards the door. The dream had been almost real.

  And then I remembered the cat. I had to see them, to make sure they were OK.

  I jumped from the bed and headed for the hall, my heart beating fast. Please don’t let anything have happened to them, please God. On opening the door I breathed once more. Both my worlds were sleeping silently, Depp in his bed and Michael in his cot. I chuckled with relief at the sight of Michael. “When will he learn to use a blanket?” He was in one of the corners huddled like a hamster, his covers in the other.

  As I looked at him I was taken by a sudden wave of nausea. The dream had been terrible, but it had finally opened my eyes. As I had struggled for survival, thrashed for dear life, an all-consuming thought had crashed through my head: I was never going to see my children again. They were going to grow up without their dad. It’s funny how you don’t really know what you’ve got until
you’ve lost it. I pulled the covers up around Michael and kissed his cheek. He was gorgeous, a little miracle. I tried to figure out who he was like, but his personality was unique, completely different to that of Depp’s.

  I had often thought about this. Perhaps our personalities have nothing to do with genetics. Perhaps we do have a soul and that’s what makes us who we are.

  The hideous dream scurried across my mind like a rat. I had found a way out after all. I closed the door of their room, giving them both one last solicitous glance, and then I sat myself down on the stairs. It had been one nightmare after the other. I must have woken about five times, each time trying my best not to fall back into the same dream. I suppose I succeeded in a way. But each time I fell asleep my dreams would descend into yet another scenario from hell.

  At one point I had dreamt that my mum had returned from the grave to tell me something, but I couldn’t remember what. We were sitting on a train, and in the dream she had been long dead. I was relieved when I finally awoke to realise that she was still with me. I had been crying uncontrollably, just like in the last dream, but for some reason the serial killer nightmare was the one that had disturbed me the most. And it was still rotting away in my mind.

  I faced my children’s room once more, another wave of anxiety passing over me. Everything’s OK, I reassured myself. It wasn’t real. There had been a way out after all.

  My head suddenly darted to the side. Something had caught my eye. Strange. I could have sworn I had just seen a tail at the top of the stairs disappearing into my cinema room. The house had two sets of stairs, one leading from the ground hall to the upper landing, the other leading up to my multi media cinema room.