by Amy Cross
“I can't possibly do something like -”
“You're not pathetic,” she adds. “You're not some little weakling. Come on, let's grab a dress from your closet and get the hell out of here. We can go have breakfast at a cafe, and we can change at the train station, and we can just get away from this apartment for a few hours. Don't you feel kinda stuffy here?”
I want to tell her that I can't possibly disobey Jonathan, but deep down I'm starting to think that she might have a point.
“You're like a ghost!” she says suddenly.
That word sends a shudder through my chest.
“I'm sorry,” she continues, “but you are. Don't take this the wrong way, Victoria, but you're turning a little weird.”
“I am?”
“Hell, yeah. And as your friend, it's my duty to help you out.”
Staring at her hand, I realize that perhaps she has a point. Finally I get to my feet, although I must admit that the thought of leaving the apartment is simultaneously both wonderful and horrifying. I'm still not sure I can actually go through with this, but Sophie quickly takes my hand and leads me around the sofa.
In the distance, Jonathan is singing in the shower.
“Lynn would totally approve of this,” Sophie continues as she takes me toward the front door. “She'd be cheering us on right now if she could see us. Hell, maybe she can see us! And she'd hate to see you like this, Victoria. We talked about it a few times before she died. About how you've curled up and begun to hide from the world. She was the one who said you seemed like a ghost.”
Reaching the hallway, she pulls the door open, and I gasp as I see the corridor that leads toward the elevator.
Instinctively, I slip my hand from Sophie's and take a step back.
“I'll fetch a dress for you,” she says, heading into the master bedroom. “Wait right there.”
My throat feels so very dry as I stare out at the corridor. I'm quite sure I shall faint at any moment, and my head seems to be swimming slightly. Something's wrong, I'm sure of it, and I'm certain that I shall never, ever be able to take the steps to that elevator. Even if I do, I shall never be able to go into the chamber. And even if I managed that, I couldn't go any further. This whole thing was a silly idea, anyway. Feeling a little short of breath, I reach out to swing the door shut.
“Victoria?”
Startled, I turn and find Sophie standing right behind me, holding one of my black dresses.
“You're not chickening out on me now, woman,” she continues. “Whatever's wrong, we can fix it, but I really think the first step is to get you out of this apartment.”
Shaking my head, I try to tell her that I can't. Unable to get the words out, I turn to stumble back into the lounge area, and suddenly I realize that I'm so very cold.
“We have to go before Jonathan gets out of the shower!” Sophie hisses, grabbing my arm. “What the hell? Victoria, you're freezing!”
“I can't go!” I gasp, sitting on the hamper next to the coat rack. “I can't, I just can't...”
“Yes, you can!”
She kneels in front of me, looking up at my face as I continue to shiver.
“This is a real problem for you, isn't it?” she continues. “I think maybe you need to see a doctor.”
I shake my head.
Reaching out, she touches my hand, and she gasps as she feels my icy flesh.
“You're more than cold, Victoria,” she stammers, grabbing one of the coats from the rack and placing it around my shoulders. “You're like a goddamn ice block!”
“The freezer,” I whisper.
“What about it?”
“I don't know, I just...”
For a fraction of a second, I feel as if I'm trapped in a tight, airless space. I blink and the sensation passes, but I feel certain that something is very wrong.
“This is Jonathan's coat,” I stammer. “He wouldn't like it if he found me wearing it.”
“Jonathan's still singing in the shower,” she points out. “He always takes ages in there. Victoria, this is no good. You have to come with me!”
Shaking my head, I slip my trembling hands into the pockets of Jonathan's coat. As I do so, however, I feel an envelope in the left pocket and I slide it out. As soon as I see my own name and address printed on the front, I realize that I recognize not only the type of envelope, but also the font that has been used.
“Jonathan?” I whisper.
“What's that?” Sophie asks.
“The letter opener.”
“Victoria -”
“Bring me the letter opener!” I hiss.
She hesitates, before heading to the desk and grabbing the silver letter opener. When she returns, I snatch it from her hand and open the envelope, and then I pull out a single piece of card.
“It was him,” I gasp as I read the foul, expletive-filled message.
“Victoria,” Sophie says cautiously, “I'm not sure that you -”
“It was him!” I continue, still shivering as I read the message over and over. “My own husband was the one who was tormenting me for months on end.”
“You don't know that for sure,” Sophie replies. “Maybe that envelope was planted there!”
“Nobody else has been to the apartment for weeks.”
“Okay, but maybe he intercepted it. Maybe he found it in the mailbox and he wanted to hide it from you!”
“There's no mark on the envelope,” I point out, holding it up for her to see. “It hasn't been mailed yet.”
“Then maybe it was hand-delivered!”
“All the other ones were mailed. Different post-marks each time, forming a kind of circle around the edge of the city. I noticed that. It seemed quite deliberate.”
This time she has no more ideas, and I can see the shock in her eyes as she stares at the envelope.
“I thought it was you,” I whisper, suddenly realizing that I have tortured and tormented one of my dearest friends for no reason whatsoever. Looking at Sophie, I think of all the tears I've seen her shed since Toby threw her out, and of the misery to which she was subjected as I posted all those awful images online. I think of the child she lost.
“You thought what was me?” she replies cautiously.
“I have...”
My voice trails off as I feel the most wretched sense of fury in my chest. It's bad enough that my own husband put me through this ordeal, but he also stood by and watched as I destroyed the life of one of my best friends. I can't even blame him for all of it, since every picture and video of Sophie was put online by my own hand. Sitting here in the apartment, I used the computer to reach out and ruin her life. I allowed myself to become the most awful and cruel woman.
“Why would Jonathan have been doing this to you?” she asks finally, as my husband continues to sing in the shower. “It doesn't make sense.”
“It's as if he wanted to keep me in a constant state of fear and panic,” I reply, “as if...”
My voice trails off for a moment.
“As if what?” Sophie asks.
“As if he was worried about me fading to nothing,” I continue. “Maybe he thought that if I wasn't angry or scared, I'd fade. Or maybe he felt that mental anguish was the only pain he could cause me now. He wanted to torture me.”
I pause for a moment longer, still shivering as I feel colder and colder, and then suddenly I look toward the lounge.
“I think...”
I take a deep breath.
“I think I want to see what's in the freezer,” I say finally.
“The freezer?” Sophie replies. “Why? It's just load of meat and frozen vegetables.”
“No.” Getting to my feet, I step around her and head through to the kitchen. “I rather think there's something else in there.”
I'm wrong.
I have to be wrong.
But for the first time in many months, I refuse to forget my fears. I refuse to back down. I have to see.
“Victoria!” Sophie hisses, hurrying aft
er me. “Can we get out of here? We'll talk somewhere else, but you're just making excuses to stay in the apartment!”
“I have to see inside the freezer!”
“That's just another excuse!”
“No, it's not!” Reaching the kitchen, I head straight for the freezer, but suddenly I feel a sharp pain in my head and I'm forced to take a step back. I try again, with the same result, and this time I'm certain that I must have reached this point many times over the past few months.
Never, though, have I managed to actually open the freezer. Just as I have never managed to leave the apartment.
“Let me see!” I gasp.
“Victoria, you're stalling!” Sophie says firmly. “You're trying to -”
“Open the freezer!”
“You're so cold,” she continues, touching my arm. “I think maybe you need to see a doctor.”
“Open the bloody freezer!” I groan, clutching my throat. “It's so airless in here. Don't you feel it? It's so airless and cold!”
“Fine!” Sophie mutters, stepping past me and opening the freezer's lid. “Are you satisfied? There's a load of frozen peas and broccoli and carrots, and a leg of lamb and some tubs of ice cream and -”
“Beneath them!”
Sighing, she reaches in and pulls out some of the bags, setting them on the counter.
“Now I can see the bottom,” she tells me, “and there's really -”
“There's a false panel,” I stammer, interrupting her. “Don't ask how I know! I just do!”
“There's no false panel, Victoria,” she replies, “there's just -”
Suddenly she hesitates, before reaching further into the freezer.
“You're right,” she continues, and now I can hear her pulling at something. “I don't see why it matters so much, though. It's only -”
Before she can finish, she stumbles back as she finally gets the panel loose. Clearly startled, she turns to me, before setting the panel aside and looking down into the freezer.
Far off in the apartment, Jonathan has stopped singing and the shower has been switched off.
“What the hell?” Sophie whispers, her voice filled with shock.
“What is it?” I ask. “What do you see?”
“It's like a...”
She continues to stare for a moment, before looking at the other end of the freezer. Whatever she sees now, it's enough to drain all the color from her face.
And then she screams.
“What is it?” I ask, grabbing her arm, but she pulls away.
“Don't touch me!” she shouts. “What the hell is going on in this place?”
Turning, she runs toward the door, only for Jonathan to suddenly appear and grab her by the neck, slamming her against the jamb with sickening force. Her body slumps to the floor, leaving Jonathan standing in the doorway and staring at me.
“Do not look in there!” he says firmly. He's naked and dripping wet from the shower, and his eyes are filled with anger. “Victoria! I am ordering you to step away and to not look in that freezer!”
I stare at him for a moment, before turning back to the freezer. I feel as if I shall surely faint, but deep down I know that if I don't look now, I shall never look. I shall forget again, and go back to my aimless, drifting existence. I never realized until just now how miserable I have been.
“Victoria!” Jonathan continues. “I am your husband and I -”
Before he can finish, I step forward and look down into the freezer. And I see, curled at the bottom, the frozen body of a dead woman. Her eyes are wide open, and there's a thick, bloody red band running beneath the frost around her throat. Still, it takes several seconds before I recognize her.
It's me.
Slowly, I turn to Jonathan.
Part Ten
ELLIOT
Chapter Fifty-One
Today
Where are they?
Standing at the edge of Lynn's grave, as the final few mourners start to wander away, I can't help looking around and seeing that there's still no sign of Jonathan or Victoria or Sophie.
I mean, Victoria's absence isn't exactly a surprise, since she hasn't left their apartment for months. I'd have thought Jonathan might have shown up, but it's not beyond the realms of possibility that some important business matter might have come up. But then there's Sophie, and I'm certain that she'd never allow anything to keep her away. Even if she hated the thought of seeing my face, she'd have simply made sure to avoid me, the way she avoided me at Nick's funeral.
With Nick and Lynn dead, and Jonathan and Victoria and Sophie not showing up, I'm finally left standing all alone as a cold winter wind blows across the cemetery. And somehow, even though I've never been the kind of guy who believes in gut instincts or any of that bullshit, I can't shake the feeling that Sophie wouldn't have stayed away from the funeral unless something was seriously wrong.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I bring up her number, but I don't quite dare call her. After all, I know she hates me. I just need to make sure that she's okay.
***
It's almost 6pm by the time I've summoned enough courage to go to the apartment. Standing in the elevator as the chamber rises toward the top floor, I feel a knot of anticipation in my belly, and I keep debating whether or not this is a wise move. After all, it's not really any of my business if the others didn't come to the funeral. Maybe our little gang of six is just over, and I should accept that and move on. Friendships don't have to last forever.
The chamber comes to a halt and the door slides open, and I see the door to the apartment at the far end of the corridor.
Taking a step forward, I'm still not certain that this is the right thing to do. Sophie's probably going to be furious at me for showing up, and I wouldn't blame her. Stopping, I'm about to turn around and leave when suddenly the elevator door slides shut and I hear the chamber going down. I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what I should do next, and finally I slip my phone from my pocket.
Sophie won't want to hear from me, so instead I call Toby.
“What do you want?” he asks when he answers, sounding distinctly unimpressed.
“Is Sophie with you?”
“Why the hell would she be?”
“She wasn't at Lynn's funeral, and I was just wondering whether -”
“I haven't seen her since yesterday,” he continues, interrupting me. “I assumed she'd gone running back to you. Probably straight into your bed.”
“She's not like that!” I tell him, feeling a flicker of anger. “You should know better than anyone that Sophie is the most -”
“I know what she's like, thanks,” he mutters. “I was with her for long enough. She's a lying whore and a -”
“You'd better be glad you're not standing in front of me right now,” I reply, “because if you were, I'd -”
“You'd what? Defend her honor? You're such an idiot, Elliot. Sophie's a slut. You're probably the only guys she hasn't slept with. I'm sure you've seen the Amsterdam photos by now.”
“Those were fake! You know she'd never do anything like that!”
“I used to have respect for her, but...” He sighs. “Forget it. The lying whore is all yours, Elliot. Just use protection, yeah? As one guy to another, I feel I should worn you. You can never be sure of where she's been.”
“You've got no right to say things like that about her!” I hiss. “You don't deserve her! She's too good for you, you're just an -”
Suddenly I hear a click, and I realize he's cut the call.
“Asshole!” I mutter, before bringing up Jonathan's number and trying to call him. A moment later, I hear his phone ringing in the apartment, but he doesn't answer and I'm put through to voicemail. I try again, with the same result, and finally I realize that since I've already come this far, I can't exactly turn back now. I just need to know that Sophie is okay. Even if she refuses to talk to me, even if she tells me to go away and leave her alone forever, I have to make sure that nothing's seriously wro
ng.
I hesitate for a moment.
Damn it, who the hell am I kidding? I'm just using this as an excuse to see her again, and to maybe get another chance to explain why I never told her about the night of our drunken kiss.
With each step toward the apartment's front door, I feel the knot of anticipation tightening a little more in my chest. By the time I reach the door, I swear my heart is pounding, and I stare at the spy-hole for a moment before reaching up and knocking.
Too late to go back now.
I wait, but after several seconds I realize that there hasn't been any sound of movement on the other side of the door. I'm sure Jonathan is home, since he's the kind of guy who never goes anywhere without his phone. Besides, everyone knows Victoria hasn't been outside for months. Finally, I knock again.
This time, I hear a very faint bump from somewhere in the apartment.
“Jonathan?” I call out, figuring that there's no point playing games. “Victoria? It's me! Can I come in?”
Hearing no reply, I try calling Jonathan again, still without any luck. Then I bring up their landline and try that, and I hear the phone ringing on the other side of the door. Nobody answers, however, and as I cut the call I tell myself that maybe they just don't want to see me.
Maybe Sophie's begging them to keep the door shut.
“Okay, then,” I mutter, stuffing my hands into my pockets and turning to walk back to the elevator.
Suddenly I head a clicking sound, and I turn just as the door eases open a little, revealing Jonathan's startled face staring out at me.
“Hey,” I say, “is everything okay? You guys weren't at Lynn's funeral today.”
“Was that -”
He hesitates, and I can't help noticing that he seems really out of it.
“That was today,” he continues finally, as if he's only just realized. “Of course it was. Sorry, we just... I mean, I had so much else to do. But I got it all done, so now...”
His voice trails off.
“I tried calling,” I tell him. “I didn't mean to disturb you, I just wanted to make sure nothing was wrong. I got this nagging worry that I couldn't shake, and I guess I built it up in my head until I had to come and make sure.”
