I stare at the sky through the window. It’s now a dark orange as the sun begins to set.
Not long now. Any minute.
I should be upstairs, getting ready for Thea to wake, but I can’t seem to move. I know I’m just delaying the inevitable. I know I should be up there, by her side, but my body is glued to the chair.
I force the last piece of sandwich into my mouth, and then wash it down my throat with the red wine. It’s not the best of flavour combinations, but right now, right before I have to face Thea, my cuisine is the last of my priorities.
Should I make something else to eat? Fry up some chicken for later? No, I should give the hallway and tiles another mop. The police might find something I’ve missed. I’ve watched enough CSI to know how difficult it is to get rid of evidence.
Don’t be such a coward, Sarah! You know what you’re doing. Staying down here won’t take away the problem. You have to face up to what you’ve done and deal with it. Head on!
Of course I’m going to face up to it. That’s my daughter up there. I just need a few more minutes to prepare myself.
Finishing what’s left of my glass, I grab the bottle and start to fill it back up. Before it’s even halfway full, I hear a loud cry coming from upstairs.
She’s awake.
My heart sinks; my stomach fills with butterflies. It’s time. I get up off the chair, and my legs turn to jelly. I let out a long sigh and then gulp down the wine in one go.
Don’t be afraid.
I walk over to the cupboard, reach far into the back and pull out Thea’s plastic cup. It’s covered in dust, so I blow on it hard. She hasn’t used this for nearly ten years. Couldn’t bring myself to throw it out. Over by the microwave, I pull out a small knife from the wooden rack, and then a pack of alcohol-wipes from the medicine cupboard. I carry the items out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Each step seems larger than the one before. My vision is narrowing; my knees feel weak.
The screams are getting louder.
On the landing, I grab hold of the banister to steady myself.
What’s wrong with me? She’s my daughter. She needs me.
I take a deep breath and then continue forward to her door.
You can do this. It’s just Thea.
She’s not a monster.
I take another breath, unlock the door, and then slowly open it.
The moment I step inside, Thea looks at me. I shudder when I see her face; so pale and distorted, creased up with rage, the veins in her neck pulsating as she shrieks and tugs violently at the restraints.
Body shaking, I somehow managed a fake smile. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I stammer, “Mummy’s here. Everything’s going to be all right.”
Don’t panic. You can do this, Sarah. She’s your daughter.
Walking over to the desk, positioned on the other side of her bed, I watch Thea as her eyes and head follow my every footstep; her cries turning into snake-like hisses, coming from between her clenched teeth. I set the plastic cup down on the desk and lay my left hand on my knee, palm facing upwards.
“Everything’s going to be okay, angel,” I reassure her, rolling my cardigan sleeve up to my elbow. “Mummy will fix it. I promise.” I rub the alcohol-wipe over my arm and knife, “And we can put this great big mess behind us,” and then stick the blade into the outside of my forearm. Avoiding any veins, I start to reopen an old scar. Wincing, I stop when I’ve sliced about an inch or two of flesh. Blood begins to leak out from the wound, running down my arm, pooling in my hand. I drop the knife down on the desk, and quickly hang my dripping arm over the cup.
Be strong. This is nothing compared to burying a body in your garden. Nothing compared to losing Ivy. Remember that.
Thea sees my oozing arm and the hissing suddenly stops. Her eyes light up as she watches the cup slowly fill up with blood. I keep tensing my arm, clenching my fist until I start to feel queasy.
This is bugger all blood. It’s barely fifty mills. You’ve given blood lots of times. Stop your whining, woman!
After a few minutes, Thea starts to hiss again, which quickly turns into a deafening squeal.
She’s tired of waiting.
Reaching over to my left, I open the bottom drawer of Thea’s chest and pull out a white vest. I wrap it around my bleeding forearm and tie it tightly.
“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” I ask her as I carry the cup over to the bed. I manage to steady my hand as I move the cup towards Thea’s mouth. “Is this what you want?” She starts to thrash, forcing me to move the cup away. I can’t spill a drop. “Calm down, honey.” With one hand pressing her chest down, I hold her body onto the bed. I hover the cup under her chin and slowly pour the blood into her mouth. The first few drops just hit her teeth and lips, dripping down her chin and neck. But then she licks her lips, opens her mouth, and lets me empty the entire contents in. I quickly move off the bed, watching her as she gulps it down like Coke.
But is it enough to hold her? She drank Jared dry yesterday—and she was still aggressive. Maybe I need to cut my other forearm.
Just wait, Sarah. See what happens.
I sit back down on the chair, keeping the pressure on my bleeding arm, and watch her as she pulls on the ropes, barking at me. Why can’t she say something? “Come on, honey. It’s Mummy. Speak to me.”
My chin starts to quiver as I try to find my daughter, hidden behind the rage. “I know you’re in there, Thea. You just need a little time. That’s all.”
Don’t cry, Sarah. You have to be strong.
I shake off the tears and pull out one of Thea’s books from her shelf. It’s my old Ladybird book of Three Billy Goats Gruff. Some of the pages have been defaced by pen, and the spine is broken, but it still does the job. The troll was terrifying; it gave me nightmares up until I was eight. And for that reason, I hung on to the bloody thing. And this is why Thea wanted it. She found it fascinating that a book could have such an effect on me. The troll didn’t scare her, or Ivy—in fact, they both found it hilarious that it kept me awake at night.
But as I stare at the face of the troll, and even though it takes me back to those nightmares, I see now the significance. It was just a story, just a painting. It wasn’t real. And only real-life should be scary. Only losing your family should give you nightmares.
“Do you remember this book, Thea?” I say to her softly, showing her the cover. She looks at it. I think she recognises it. “The Three Billy Goats Gruff.”
Thea snaps her blood-soaked teeth in my direction. I try not to let it bother me. It’ll pass. I have faith.
I open the page and start to read, as if Thea were four again, lying on her bed, hanging on my every word, looking forward to hearing what silly voice I would do this time.
I’ll finish this book, and then I’ll read another—and another until the sun comes up. And I’ll do exactly the same thing tomorrow night, and the next, and the one after that—until this nightmare is well and truly over.
And I get my little girl back safely.
24
Tuesday, 26thApril, 2016.
Today is going to be a good day—I’m feeling very optimistic.
Unfortunately you can’t get needles and syringes over the counter, so I’ve ordered some from the Internet. Next day delivery. Can’t keep slicing my arm every time Thea gets hungry. I’ll get animal blood eventually, when things settle down. Maybe lamb or beef. But right now I’ve got too much on my plate even to venture outside the house.
I’ve also called the school, told them that Thea has a bug and won’t be in for the rest of the week. I called mum to apologise and said that she’d get her money in the next few weeks. The conversation didn’t exactly go well, but it’s a start. At least she didn’t call me a murderer this time.
I’ll take bitch over murderer any day of the week.
But the best news of all is Thea. The thrashing started to cease at around four in the morning. Maybe it takes a few hours for the blood to take effect. But without a doubt,
she was calmer than she was that first night. Just got to keep feeding her, and with a bit of luck, I can untie those awful restraints.
It’s 3:51 P.M. I managed to get a few hours sleep this morning, just after Thea passed out. This is nothing to me. I’ve lived a vampire’s routine for years working the night shift. It was hard at first, but it doesn’t take long to get used to it.
Once I finish my bowl of tomato and basil soup, I soak up what’s left with the last of the bread, and then do the dishes. There’s still some dried up vomit in the sink from the other day. I forgot all about it.
I’m almost looking forward to Thea waking. It’ll be good to compare each night to the last. God, maybe she’ll start talking to me. Who knows!
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sarah. One step at a time.
I finish up in the kitchen, pour myself a well-deserved glass of red, and then take it into the living room. Time to relax, I think. I sit on the couch and put on the TV. There’s a Friends marathon showing. I’ve seen every episode countless times—but who the hell cares? It’s bloody great! Sipping my wine, I notice the baby-monitor on the coffee table. I’m surprised how well it still works. The picture isn’t perfect, but it gives me a decent view of Thea from the camera as she sleeps. Just like old times.
This is one of my favourite episodes. It’s the one where Ross buys leather trousers and they shrink. I know exactly when the jokes are coming, but I still can’t help but laugh.
It feels good to laugh again.
And by this weekend, I’ll be sitting down on this couch, curled up with Thea, watching a movie.
* * *
The doorbell rings.
I suddenly jump up in fright, almost knocking my empty glass off the coffee table.
Shit! I must have dozed off.
The room is much darker now. Heart soaring, I check my watch. 7:25 P.M.
“Shit!”
I check the baby-monitor.
Thea’s still asleep. Thank God!
The doorbell goes off again
Who the hell is that?
Mum?
Oh shit, I bet it’s Kate! I was supposed to work last night. I forgot to bloody call in sick.
Bugger!
It rings for a third time as I exit the living room, heading for the front door. Should I pretend I’m not home? If it’s Mum, she’ll want to see Thea—even if she thinks she has a bug. Maybe it’s the neighbour, asking about all those screams from last night.
I better answer it. I don’t want to arouse any suspicion.
I take a deep breath, try to slow my pulse rate, and then open it with a big forced grin.
Standing in the doorway is a woman, mid-twenties with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail. Next to her a tall man in his late-thirties.
I start to feel dizzy.
It’s the police.
“Mrs Wilkes?” the male police officer asks.
“Yes,” I reply, frowning as if I have absolutely no clue why they’re here. “Is everything all right?”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he replies. “I’m Officer Davies, and this is my colleague, Officer Lewis. We’ve had a report of a missing person. Do you mind if we come in for a quick chat?”
I think I’m going to throw up.
“Now’s not a good time,” I reply. “I’ve got a terrible bug. I don’t want to pass it on to you.” They know I’m lying. I can feel their judging eyes burning into me. I bet they’ll ask me where I buried the body.
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs Wilkes,” the female says with a sympathetic tone. “We promise we won’t keep you too long.”
I’ll have to let them in—otherwise it’s obvious that I’m hiding something.
“Urrr…yes, all right then,” I say, moving back to give them room. “Just don’t get too close to me.”
The officers smile as they enter the house. I usher them quickly along the hallway, terrified that I might have missed a speck of blood.
Switching on the light, they follow me into the living room, and I point them towards the couch. “Please—take a seat.”
“Thank you, Mrs Wilkes,” the female officer says as they sit down.
“Can I get you anything?” I ask, faking polite smile—which I’m positive they can see through. “Tea? Coffee?” I spot my empty wine glass on the coffee table. “Wine?” I ask playfully. But then my smile vanishes when I notice the baby-monitor.
Oh shit!
Did they see it? They must know that I don’t have a baby in the house.
Or do they?
Of course they bloody know! They’re police! They know everything!
Calm down, Sarah. You can do this.
“We’re fine, thank you,” the male officer replies. “We just need to ask you a few questions about a missing boy.”
“Of course,” I say, clenching my fists tightly to stop them from shaking. “Which boy?”
“Jared Thomas?” the male officer says. “I’ve spoken to his mother, and she believes that he was in a relationship with your daughter: Thea Wilkes.”
I take a seat on the armchair, shaking my head in protest. “Unfortunately, my daughter and I haven’t been getting on so well lately. So there’s very little she tells me. She just comes home, grunts at me, and puts her head in that bloody iPad of hers. Spends all evening chatting with her friends.”
“Oh right, I see,” the female officer says. “May we speak to Thea? Ask her a few questions? Maybe Jared mentioned to her where he was planning on going. Would that be all right, Mrs Wilkes?”
I feel sick. The room is shrinking. I have a body in the garden, a blood-stained carpet—and a vampire tied to the bed.
“Just a quick chat,” the male officer says. “I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about, but the first forty-eight hours are crucial, so any help whatsoever would be very much appreciated.”
They can sense my reluctance. They can see it a mile off.
I look at the window—the sun is just minutes away from setting. “It’s not a good time at the moment,” I say, cagily. “Thea has the same bug as I have. She’s a little worse though. She’s actually in bed right now, so I’d rather not disturb her—if that’s okay. She didn’t get a wink of sleep last night.” Shut up, Sarah. You’re waffling on. “But I’ll speak to her about it—first thing. I promise.”
“It’s fine, Mrs Wilkes,” the female officer says with a smile. “Let her get some rest and ask her when she’s feeling better.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I wish I could have been more helpful. And I hope you find the boy.”
“I’m sure we will, Mrs Wilkes,” the female officer says as she gets up off the couch. The male officer follows her up.
The sun has almost vanished. They need to leave right now.
I open the living-room door to usher them out. Just as I do, a faint crackle comes out of the baby-monitor.
Thea’s awake!
The male officer glances down at the device just as it makes another sputtering. “What’s that?” he asks.
Putting on my best impersonation of a calm woman, I pick it up, hiding the screen with my hand. “Oh, it’s just Thea’s old baby-monitor,” I say, discreetly switching it off. “She was sick a few times yesterday—couldn’t keep a thing down—so I was worried that she might choke in her sleep. I’m paranoid about things like that. Especially after losing my eldest daughter.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” the female officer says, pursing her lips. “We’ll get out of your hair now. Thank you again, Mrs Wilkes. And let us know if Thea can tell us anything about Jared’s whereabouts.”
“No problem at all,” I say, steering them into the hallway, towards the front door. My muscles clench when we pass the stairs. All it would take is one scream from Thea, and the game would be up.
I should have gagged her.
I open the door, and the officers step outside.
“Thanks again, Mrs Wilkes,” the male officer says. “We’ll be in touch.”
> Just as I start to close the door, there’s a weak scream from upstairs.
Shit! Did they hear it?
There’s another one as the door clicks shut. This time much louder.
They definitely heard that one!
Oh shit!
I peek through the spy hole in the centre of the door. They’re on to me. They’re probably calling for back-up right now.
I see the officers; they’re walking over to their police car. It’s too hard to tell for sure if they heard. They haven’t looked back at the house yet. If they did hear a scream, wouldn’t they be bursting through the front door right this second?
They could be scoping me out, seeing how I’d react to a visit from the police.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
I race upstairs, into Thea’s bedroom. She growls at me the moment she sees me. She’s hungry.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I say with clenched teeth, trying to undo the thick knot in my stomach. “How are you feeling tonight? Any better?”
She doesn’t answer me. But at least she’s not screaming. That’s progress.
I go over to the desk chair again and sit. I feel exhausted; nerves still unsettled. The thought of someone taking away my little girl drives a stake through my heart. I wipe the beads of sweat from my forehead and then turn to Thea. “Are you hungry, angel? I bet you are.”
She hisses. It almost sounds like ‘Yes’.
A glimmer of hope?
It puts a genuine smile on my face as I roll my sleeve up and rub my arm and knife with the alcohol-wipe. Just as I place the blade against my forearm, about to reopen the cut, I hear a car engine start from outside. Hurrying over to the window, I peek through the curtains. I see the police car pulling off down the street. They took their time leaving.
They were watching me!
This is bad. This is very bad.
“We’ve got to leave this house, Thea.” I sit back down on the chair and start to cut my forearm. This time, I don’t feel the pain. “It has to be tonight. The police will be back, and they’ll try to take you away from me.” I start to drain the blood into the cup. There’s less this time. “But I won’t let them. I’d rather die than lose you.”
Thea: A Vampire Story Page 10
