9 Months Trilogy: A Novel of Horror and Suspense

by Matt Shaw

  Embarrassing.

  “Did you at least have enough breakfast?” asked mum.

  * * * * *

  The door creaked open allowing light to, once again, spill into the room.

  “Hello?” I called out.

  Silence.

  “Please, don’t go.... please.”

  More silence before, finally, footsteps start to come down the stairs.

  I see the shoes first. Trainers. Nothing unusual about them. Average. Not clean and yet not especially dirty either.

  Black trousers.

  Male.

  A shirt.

  Tucked in.

  Just like my dad wears his.

  Whoever it is, they’re holding a tray of food in front of them.

  A hood?

  What the hell?

  He’s wearing a hood.

  I can’t see their face.

  But that’s a good thing, I think. It means they won’t be afraid to let me go - because I haven’t seen their face. They stop at the foot of the bed...

  “Please, what do you want with me?”

  They don’t answer.

  I didn’t expect an answer.

  Just, deep down, hoped for one.

  He stood at the foot of the bed for what seemed like an eternity before he moved to the side of the bed where he put the tray on a small table.

  “I want to go home. Please.”

  Again, he just stood there, looking at me. The hood, covering his face, stopped me from even seeing his eyes.

  But would I have wanted to see the eyes? They say the eyes are the windows to the soul. Someone like this - would they have a soul?

  “Please can I go home?”

  The hooded figure shook his head before he sat down on the bed next to me.

  I tried to move away from him but the restraints stopped me from getting very far. He waited for me to stop fidgeting and squirming against the cuffs before he reached over and took hold of the spoon, on the tray he brought down the stairs with him.

  “Please, I just want to go home....”

  He spooned some of the food, which I couldn’t see, onto the spoon and moved it towards my mouth.

  Poisoned?

  I turned away from the spoon - even though my stomach was growling for me to accept it whatever it held.

  “No!” I said.

  The man pulled the spoon away a bit and I turned back to him. A little slower, he moved it towards me - once more offering it to my mouth. Again, I turned away.

  He didn’t offer the spoon again. He just tipped the contents back into the bowl. One more look at me before he stood up and walked towards the stairs, leaving the bowl behind.

  “Wait. Don’t go.” I begged.

  He stopped but didn’t turn to look at me.

  “Please. I want to go home. Let me go. Please. I won’t tell anyone.”

  There was no reaction. He didn’t move.

  “Please...” I said one more time.

  No reaction.

  A few minutes of silence before the hooded figure walked up the stairs - the door closing behind him.

  Again, I’m alone.

  None the wiser as to who he is.

  Or where I am.

  * * * * *

  “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” said Darren. “Nearly there.”

  “Can I take the blind-fold off?”

  “No!”

  I felt the car take a left turn.

  When we first set out, from my house, I tried to be clever and keep track of where we were headed but - I have to say - within a few turns I was really lost and that was over an hour ago.

  “How much longer? I’m starting to feel car-sick.”

  Something to do with the blind-fold and motion of the car along the bumpy roads.

  “Five minutes. Max.”

  A right turn.

  Where the hell are we going?

  Darren and I had been dating for a couple of months now and, every time he took me out, he managed to pull another Ace from his sleeve; something else to impress me and raise the standards.

  I should have known - after the posh restaurant, during the first date. There’s no cheap take-aways or penny-pinching nights in with Darren.

  Living with his mum - I’m guessing all the money, he got from his evening job in the supermarket, went on showing me a good time.

  I’m guessing.

  Don’t know for sure.

  But it certainly feels like it.

  And he’s stupid - even if we did stay in and have cheaper dates, I’d still love him. Not that I’m complaining!

  The car makes another turn right and starts to slow down until it finally comes to a halt.

  “Are we there?” I asked, unsure whether it was just another traffic jam.

  “You tell me...”

  There’s a slight pause before I reached up and slowly took my blind-fold off - half expecting him to stop me and start driving again. He didn’t.

  A car park - in the middle of nowhere.

  It wasn’t exactly what I was expecting.

  “Okay then....” I said, waiting for some sort of clue as to why we were in the middle of nowhere. “And what are we doing here?”

  He smiled, “I bring all my victims here. Come, let’s get the shovel from the boot...”

  He gave me a wink and climbed from the car, closing the door behind him.

  Seconds passed whilst my brain processed what he had said.

  Obviously a joke?

  I’m sure if he was a psycho - he would have murdered me long before now. I unclicked my seat-belt, letting it zip back behind the chair, and climbed from the car.

  Leave the door open.

  Just in case I have to jump back in and lock him out.

  I walked over to the boot, which was now open, and peered in to see what he was so seemingly happy about.

  “Ta da!” he said, as I looked in.

  A hamper and a blanket.

  He continued, “I know the best spot....”

  “A picnic?”

  “Yeah! Something different!”

  He leaned into the car and pulled the hamper out.

  “If you want to carry this,” he went on, “I’ll take the blanket...”

  Foolishly I held my hand out, ready to take the hamper from him.

  “I was joking - just grab the blanket,” he laughed as he shifted the weight of the hamper between both of his hands.

  Thank God, I thought - the hamper looked really heavy!

  I leaned into the boot and pulled the blanket out, before closing the car up.

  As I walked around to close the front door up he started off, in the direction of the forest, singing with each step he took, “Hey Ho! Hey Ho! It’s off for a picnic we go.... with a....”

  “Those aren’t the lyrics,” I shouted out after him, hoping my distant voice would remind him that it would be a good idea to actually wait for me.

  “If you go down to the woods today, you’re in for a big surprise....”

  “And I think you’re better off stopping that song right there,” I said, as I caught up to him. I knew what his mind was like. He had the ability to turn anything from ‘innocent’ to ‘filthy’ and, with the grin on his face, I figured it was only a matter of time before he turned that into a rude song.

  He laughed, “You read my mind.”

  * * * * *

  The hooded man simply stood in front of my bed....

  What am I talking about?

  It’s not my bed.

  Nothing here is mine.

  I don’t belong here.

  Whatever. He was standing in front of the bed. One second he was looking directly at me, the next he was staring at the untouched bowl of ‘whatever’ to my side.

  What did he expect?

  Was I supposed to eat it when he was out of the room? Even if I could have reached the spoon, without the cuffs on - I still wouldn’t have touched it.

  God only kn
ows what is in the bowl.

  Or what’s mixed in with the bowl’s contents.

  I’d rather starve.

  And I am starving.

  He looked back at me.

  “Please, let me go.”

  He shook his head.

  “Please.”

  Another shake.

  “At least tell me what you want.”

  He pointed to me.

  What was that supposed to mean?

  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small notepad. From his other back pocket, he pulled out a pen...

  “Who are you?” I asked as he scribbled something down on the pad.

  He didn’t answer.

  Again, I didn’t expect him to.

  He walked closer to me and showed me what he wrote.

  ‘Eat’

  “Eat? I don’t want to eat!”

  Correction - I don’t want to eat here.

  He pointed to the pad again and, again, I shook my head.

  He hung his head low. Almost as if he were disappointed in me.

  “Please. I just want to go home.”

  He didn’t look up. He just picked the bowl of food up and held it there for a moment.

  What was he doing?

  With no words and no sounds he threw the bowl across the room - where it shattered upon contact with the bricks, spilling the contents down the already-dirty wall.

  I couldn’t help but let out a scream.

  He looked at the mess and then back to me.

  My eyes filled with tears.

  I’ve angered him.

  I didn’t want to anger him.

  I never wanted to anger him.

  “I’m sorry,” I whimpered.

  Don’t be afraid to apologise.

  Don’t be afraid to show your fear.

  He may go easier on me.

  He turned around and left the room via the stairs.

  The door, out of sight, slammed shut.

  My whimpering turned to tears as I looked back over to the spilt food, thankful that was all he did.

  * * * * *

  “I’m sorry,” laughed Darren as he folded up a corner of the blanket we were laid on. “I promise I didn’t mean it.”

  I took his edge of the blanket and patted down my front - where he had spilt the champagne.

  “Why do I not believe you?”

  “Okay, I did mean it - I hoped you’d let me lick you clean....”

  I made a noise which was a cross between a ‘tut’ and a little laugh, “You’re so disgusting.”

  “You love it,” he smiled.

  Yeah, I do. My little cheeky chap.

  It was his idea - a romantic way to drink our champagne. We both have a glass in our hands and then interlock arms - ready to pour our glasses into each other’s mouths. I successfully poured him a nice refreshing drink from my glass where as he simply poured his glass down my top.

  “Either that or I thought it might have encouraged you to take your top off.”

  I fired him an ‘as if’ look.

  I’m not that sort of girl.

  He did a comedy ‘drat’ gesture - with a click of his fingers and laughed.

  “Did you want to try it again?” he suggested.

  “You know, I think I’m okay. But thank you....”

  “Okay, well.... fear not - I have plenty more fun activities up my sleeve.”

  I dreaded to think.

  He reached over to the far side of the blanket where the hamper rested on the grass and fished around inside of the box.

  “Ta da!” he exclaimed as he pulled out a small box of strawberries. “Annnnnd......” he continued.... he pulled out a can of squirty whipped cream.

  Already I can see this ending in disaster.

  I smiled.

  Using his mouth, he bit the lid off the top of the strawberries box and ‘spat’ it into the blanket, “Okay, this one is much easier....”

  “Maybe I should look after the cream....”

  He paused and looked at the cream. And then at me. And then at the cream. And back to me..... “No, no... I think I’ll look after it.” He smiled. I’ve seen that smile before and couldn’t help but join him with a grin.

  His smile means ‘trouble’.

  With a capital ‘T’.

  4.

  “What on Earth happened to your clothes?” asked mum as I walked into the kitchen, with Darren - who simply looked sheepish.

  It wasn’t exactly a state a mother would wish to see their daughter in - coming in from an afternoon out, hair all over the place and clothes covered in white stains.

  “Ask him.”

  Mum cast a glance in Darren’s direction, “Hello, Darren.”

  “Hello, Jessica’s mum....” he said in his typical ‘creep-to-the-parents’ voice. “Honestly, mum, you’re not going to believe what happened....” he continued...

  Mum folded her arms.

  She was used to Darren now.

  More to the point, she was used to his quirky sense of humour.

  “Try me.”

  “Well....” he went on, “I had a romantic picnic planned.... you know.... because that’s the sort of person I am.... romantic and sweet.... I had champagne....”

  “.... for my under-age daughter....”

  Darren’s eyes went wide, like a deer caught in the headlight.

  He quickly regained his composure and shook off mum’s comment.

  Probably a wise move.

  “And I had strawberries and sandwiches....”

  There were no sandwiches. He’s building it up. Probably trying to buy more time to think of a stupid answer to give to mum.

  “.... and packets of crisps.... a few chocolate bars....”

  “Any fruit?” asked mum, with a raised eyebrow and obviously winding him up.

  “Mum, I wouldn’t lie to you - I was just about to say fruit.... Wasn’t I, Jess?”

  I cast him a look. A look to say, “Don’t get me involved in this.”

  “Anyway, there was also a can of whipped cream in the hamper. And I’m not sure if it was

  the sunlight or the fact it must have been shaken up on the drive over.... but.... and you’ll

  have to forgive me, but it was really funny, when Jess opened the hamper.... it exploded

  everywhere.... with a massive bang.... An explosion so powerful it blew her hair

  backwards.... picture it, like a bunny rabbit on a motorcycle... picture the rabbits ears....” he

  did a gesture behind his own head, with his hands clapping together....”Bunny on a

  motorbike.... Her hair was exactly the same.... and the cream... the cream went

  everywhere... I was just lucky I was stood behind her otherwise I would have got covered

  too...”

  He stopped.

  Was his crazy story done or was he simply taking a moment to breathe?

  Mum didn’t say anything. She just stared at him.

  “BANG” he said with a hand show to demonstrate the ‘explosion’.

  “Go upstairs and get changed - pop your clothes right into the machine, see if we can clean them before they stain.”

  “Thanks, mum,” I said as I turned and left the room.

  “Yeah, thanks mum,” said Darren as he turned to follow.

  “You can wait here for her,” said mum. Not a hint of a joke in her voice. Both mum and dad