Maggie: a gripping psychological thriller

by Netta Newbound

  “Please. Not in here. Think about Mum.”

  “It’s because of her we’re in this situation, Mags. She abandoned us. She abandoned you, and she abandoned me. You and I are all we have left, my love. She would want us to comfort each other.”

  “Not like this, she wouldn’t,” I spat.

  He seized me by the shoulders and shoved me onto his bed. “I wonder how she’d have felt if she’d known all the nights you came onto me while she lay dying in the room below.”

  “I didn’t… It wasn’t me. I would never…”

  “Oh, I suppose you’re going to blame me. I’m a red-blooded male, and there you are, soaping yourself down seductively in the shower. Teasing me. Taunting me. What did you expect me to do?”

  “I didn’t even know you were there. You took the lock off the bathroom door and came in without me knowing.”

  “Ah. So that’s how you justify your behaviour, is it?”

  I shook my head, feeling my chest tighten. “I didn’t. You know it wasn’t like that.”

  He began to unbuckle his belt. “All those nights you begged me for more, couldn’t get enough of it, could you, you little slut.”

  I knew there was no point arguing. Nobody would believe me over him, he was such a good liar. He even had me thinking it may have been my fault.

  He approached the bed, unfastening his trousers. “That’s a good girl. You know it’s much better not to fight me, don’t you?”

  I whimpered. My heart thundered.

  He reached towards me, and hooking his fingers in my waistband, he slid my pyjama bottoms down and off.

  He groaned. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Mags. I can’t be held responsible for what I do to you. It’s human nature.” He pushed his trousers down and kicked his feet out of them, then did the same with his underpants. He gripped his fist around his huge cock and rubbed it roughly. “Look at the effect you have on me. If it got any bigger, it’d split the skin.”

  I stared at him.

  At it.

  Every other time had been in total darkness, so I’d never actually seen it before. I could tell you how it felt, even the taste, but not what it looked like, and I almost puked. No wonder it hurt so much. “Please, Kenny. I’m begging you, don’t do this.”

  “You need to take care of me now. You told your mum you would, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but…” I whimpered again, edging away from him.

  “Are you trying to say this isn’t what she meant?”

  I nodded. “She meant cook and clean for you. Not…this!”

  He barked out a laugh. “Of course she meant this. Your mother knew. She’s always known.” He tore at my top, and the buttons flew off in all directions.

  “Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that again!” I screamed.

  “But it’s true, Mags. She turned a blind eye while I fucked and sucked her daughter because she knew I would turn to her if not.”

  “No!” I cried. “I don’t believe you.” But a tiny voice niggled at me, telling me he was maybe telling the truth.

  I thought back to the earlier years. How I would hear Mum crying and begging him to stop, followed by the beatings she’d endured. The cuts and bruises she tried to hide from me, or how she made up lies to explain away the injuries she couldn’t hide. But now, thinking about it, I realised those attacks on her stopped when he turned his attention to me.

  He used his knees to part my legs, then he climbed on top of me and grinned. “Because she’d given birth to you, she was loose and struggled to excite me. Unlike you. Just the thought of you could have me jizzing in my pants.”

  His bumbling fingers went to work fiddling and poking at my privates.

  My mother had explained to me about the birds and the bees, as she put it. She’d said men had needs and desires that were a woman’s duty to satisfy, but the way she’d described it had been something beautiful. Not this.

  A few months earlier, when this first began, I’d fought him. He didn’t force me back then. He just fastened up his trousers and left the room. Then, I would hear him beating up my mother. So, in the end, I allowed him to do his worst, if it meant he’d leave Mum alone. But he couldn’t hurt her anymore. So what if he threw me out onto the streets, I was old enough to leave home now. I refused to be his sex slave any longer.

  I struggled against him, but I was no match physically, and he knew it. He pinned me back onto the bed and thrust himself roughly inside me.

  The more I struggled, the harder he thrusted, and the deeper his fingers dug into the flesh on my arms. It seemed my discomfort excited him. Then, his fingers closed about my throat and pressed down on my windpipe.

  Already short of breath, my head suddenly filled with a blinding whiteness, and I tried to scream at the thought that he intended to kill me. My body sagged – unable to fight him anymore. I zoned out, although still aware his fingers were prodding and groping at me and his teeth nipping at my lips and neck. It just no longer hurt.

  Then, after a series of grunts, he rolled off me.

  I lay still, terrified that if I moved too soon, he’d become aroused again. I didn’t think I could survive another assault.

  After a few minutes, his breathing changed. He was asleep.

  Holding my breath, I moved barely an inch at a time, petrified of waking him. Just as I got to the edge of the bed, his heavy arm plonked on top of me and dragged me back towards him.

  “Where you going?” he growled. “I haven’t finished with you yet.”

  “I need a wee, Kenny. That’s all.”

  “Be quick. Hurry up.”

  I shot from the bed as fast as my brutalized body would allow and headed to the bathroom. I lifted the toilet lid and tried to be sick, but I just coughed. I’d had no appetite for any of the food in the buffet earlier.

  What the hell was I going to do? He didn’t intend to let me back into my own room. He hadn’t finished with me yet, he’d said. I couldn’t allow him to touch me again. No fucking way.

  I glanced around for something to use to defend myself with, but there was nothing sharper than an eyeliner pencil in the bathroom cabinet.

  “Maggie!” Kenny yelled.

  I pressed my fingers to my forehead. “Coming,” I replied, trying to keep my voice calm. But I knew if I went back in there without a weapon, I would have to go through the same again, and probably much worse.

  I needed to put an end to this tonight, or he wouldn’t allow me a minute of peace, I was sure. But first, I would have to get downstairs.

  “Maggie? What the fuck?”

  I appeared at his side and smiled. “I’m a little hungry, Kenny. Do you fancy a chicken sandwich?”

  He rolled onto one elbow and sneered. “It’s almost midnight. Eating at this hour will make you fat.”

  “I haven’t eaten a thing all day. I feel weak.”

  “Hurry up, then. You’re gonna need all your strength for what I have in mind for you.” His snigger made my stomach lurch.

  My legs moved so fast on the stairs I almost got friction burns on the soles of my feet. In the kitchen, I leaned against the sink and took several deep breaths. Then, I opened the cupboard above the kettle and pulled out my spare inhaler. The last thing I needed right now was an asthma attack.

  When I could breathe normally again, I took Kenny’s filleting knife from the cutlery drawer.

  Still naked, I hid the knife behind my back and turned to head upstairs. As I opened the kitchen door, I screamed and staggered backwards.

  Kenny was standing in the doorway stroking his disgusting, angry looking penis. “Look what I’ve got waiting for you. I hope you didn’t eat too much. I don’t want you to gag when this is tickling your tonsils.”

  “Kenny. This can’t happen. Mum’s gone. Why don’t you find yourself a new girlfriend? One of the women from today, maybe? Nobody will mind.”

  His eyes flashed angrily, and his lip curled in another sneer. “Because I don’t want one of those trollops.
I want you. Now, come here and put a smile on your daddy’s face.”

  “You’re not my father,” I spat out.

  Kenny lunged at me, snatching hold of my hair, and dragging me towards him, his face inches from mine. “No. Your fucking deadbeat father did a runner the first chance he got. Who’s been there for you all these years? Who provided for you? Seems you have a short memory, Mags. Who?” Kenny yelled the last word and made me jump.

  “You have. But a father wouldn’t do these things. This is wrong.”

  “I’m fucking disappointed in you, Maggie. I thought we were finished with all this shit.”

  For every step away from him I took, he matched it, the sneer back on his face. I banged into the table, and terror struck me; there was no escape.

  Kenny shoved me further backwards onto the table, and I knew he planned to rape me again.

  I lashed out, bringing the knife up as hard as I could. I roared as the blade came into contact with his bare stomach. I rammed the knife forwards with all my might. It wasn’t as easy as I’d expected. All that hard muscle was tough to cut through, but I couldn’t wimp out now – I knew it was him or me.

  His expression went from anger to confusion as he staggered backwards. He glanced down at his stomach and then back at me, wobbled, and crashed backwards to the tiles.

  I’d stopped breathing.

  Was he dead?

  I looked down at my bloody fingers. I was still gripping the long, thin, incredibly sharp knife.

  “Mags…”

  The sound of his hoarse whisper made my knees almost buckle. The bastard wasn’t dead.

  He wasn’t dead.

  He wasn’t dead!

  I couldn’t allow him to live. He’d never stop. I refused to spend the rest of my life being molested and assaulted by him.

  With a strangled cry, I launched myself at him, flailing blindly with the knife until I was certain there was no chance of him surviving.

  Exhausted, I dropped the knife and scrambled away on all fours. Then, I sat on my bum, my arms wrapped tightly around my knees.

  I don’t know how long I sat there for, rocking until I heard a sound from outside. I felt revolted by the metallic tang that now filled the room.

  I didn’t look at him. I could just see the bluey-white skin of his legs and a large red mess from the corner of my eye. I numbly walked into the hall, picked up the phone, and dialled 999.

  “Police, please,” I said, calmly. “My stepfather’s dead. I killed him.”

  I gave the woman the address before ending the call. Then, I padded upstairs to my room.

  I heard the sirens a minute or two before they pulled up on the street outside.

  I peered from the window. Two police cars and an ambulance. I wasn’t sure why they’d sent the ambulance – Kenny was dead.

  3

  I wrapped myself in a sheet and made my way down the stairs as though in a dream. Without saying a word, I led the officers through to the kitchen.

  “Shit!” the first officer said, dropping to one knee beside Kenny’s body.

  I left them to it and staggered back upstairs where I curled up on my bed. I could hear people coming and going on the wooden stairs and a lot of chatter, but none of the words were clear.

  After a while, Detective Jake Stuart knocked on the door and entered my bedroom. I’d known him for years; he and his wife were good friends of Kenny and my mother.

  “Maggie? Are you all right, love?”

  I didn’t reply. Surely it wasn’t okay for him to investigate. He wouldn’t have a bad word to say against Kenny. Good old Kenny wouldn’t harm a fly.

  He crouched down beside the bed. “What did you do to him?”

  I turned away and focused on my bloodstained hands.

  “Come on, get dressed. You’ll need to come with us.”

  Jake got to his feet and turned his back on me, but I could see he was ogling me in the reflection of the dressing table mirror.

  “Is this what you want to see?” I screamed, dropping the sheet and flying to my feet. “Go on. Have a good look.” I squeezed my boobs together and then shoved my balled fists at his back. “Get out! Get out, get out, get out!”

  Jake rushed through the door.

  “She’s fucking lost the plot,” I heard him say.

  “Do you think he was fiddling with her?” another male voice said.

  “No way. Not Kenny. He wasn’t like that,” Jake said.

  “They are both naked. And a torn pyjama top is in his bedroom as well as the bottoms. I know how it looks to me.”

  “Lucky it’s not down to you, is it, Bobby?” Jake hissed. “Now, get on with your job and keep your fucking mouth buttoned – got it?”

  “Yes, Sarge.”

  Listening to the exchange, I knew it was pointless. The whole village would believe Kenny over me. But at least I’d made the bastard pay. No matter what they did to me after this, at least he wasn’t walking away from it.

  Detective Inspector Donna Sullivan was asleep when she got the call about a homicide. It appeared the victim’s daughter was responsible, and they wanted a female detective to take over.

  Twenty minutes later, she walked into the three-bedroomed, terraced house in the lovely village of Harley. DS Jake Stuart gave her a quick debrief. “Maggie, his daughter, did it. She confessed when she called it in.”

  “Why? Do you know?”

  Jake shrugged. “She’s lost her marbles. She even accused me of trying to have a look at her body. She tore off the sheet she was wearing in front of me and almost shoved her tits in my face.”

  “Any drugs involved?”

  He shook his head. “Don’t think so.”

  Donna entered the kitchen. It seemed the daughter had done a fine number on her father. He’d been stabbed multiple times. Then, on her way up to see the suspect, Donna stepped into the master bedroom. A quick examination of the bed showed blood mixed with semen on the mattress. It was pretty obvious to her what had gone on.

  She knocked and entered the girl’s room, noticing the broken lock. “Hi, Maggie. My name’s DI Sullivan, but you can call me Donna.”

  The girl was slumped in the far corner of the room. Her dark auburn curls wild and frizzy. She didn’t acknowledge Donna at all.

  Donna crouched down beside her. “I’m sorry, Maggie. I know the last thing you’d want to do is answer a load of questions, but I’m going to have to take you down to the station. Will you get dressed for me, sweetheart?”

  The girl looked at her with large, sad, indigo-coloured eyes, and Donna’s heart broke.

  “Come on. It’s okay. I promise.” She held her hand out, and Maggie allowed herself to be helped to her feet.

  Maggie pulled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from the top drawer. She dropped the sheet and hurriedly dressed.

  “You ready?” Donna asked.

  Maggie nodded.

  Out in the hall, Maggie flinched when she saw the number of police and SOCOs who were falling over themselves in the small house. Donna led the traumatised girl downstairs and out onto the street.

  “Maggie! Maggie, what’s happened, love?” An older woman, with two rollers pinned to the front of her head, tried to push her way through the police cordon, but she was gruffly shoved back by a uniformed officer.

  Maggie hung her head and whimpered, covering her face with her hands. Donna put a protective arm around the girl’s shoulders and guided her to the navy-blue Volvo. They drove to the police station in silence.

  “Can I get you a hot drink?” Donna asked when they were inside the interview room. “Tea? Hot chocolate?”

  Maggie shook her head and continued staring at her hands, seemingly mesmerized by the blood still coating them.

  “I’m just waiting for a colleague of mine to join us, and then, I’ll need to ask you a few questions, Maggie. Is that all right?”

  A thumping on the door drowned out anything the girl may have said. Donna saw Jake Stuart through the small square
window in the door. She jumped to her feet as he walked in.

  “Don’t tell me – she’s giving you some sob story that Kenny abused her?” he barked.

  Maggie shuddered and hid her face.

  “Excuse me a moment,” Donna said to Maggie. She turned to shove Jake back out the door. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” she hissed when the door had closed behind them. “Don’t you come in there, all guns blazing, mate. I won’t stand for it. Did you see the way she looked at you?”

  “I don’t bloody care, ma’am. She just gutted one of my best mates with a filleting knife.”

  “And you’re not in the least bit interested why, Detective?”

  “What possible motive is there? He’d just buried his wife, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Jake. I suggest you take a step back from this. You’re a personal friend of the victim’s, which is good enough reason in itself, but I will not have you intimidating the suspect. Do you hear me?”

  “But…”

  “I said – do you hear me, Detective?”

  He lowered his head and walked away.

  “Arsehole,” she muttered, before heading back in the room.

  “Maggie. I want to apologise for Detective Stuart. He had no right to say those things. If you’d just bear with me a second, I’ll organise a cup of tea for us both, and then, I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  The girl seemed relieved Jake hadn’t come back in, and with a shaky smile, she nodded.

  Donna left and returned a few minutes later with another female detective and two disposable cups filled with milky tea. “Here you go. I didn’t know how you take it, but I figured hot and sweet in the circumstances.”

  Maggie nodded and snaked her fingers around the cup.

  “This is Detective Yvette Dawson. We call her Evie.”

  “Hi, Maggie,” Evie said, pulling a chair up to the table and making herself comfortable.

  “We need to ask you a few questions, but for the record, can you confirm your name for me, please,” Donna said.