9 Months Trilogy: A Novel of Horror and Suspense

by Matt Shaw

  Her scared voice.

  Jessica.

  “Baby?” I answered.

  As I got to the bottom step, she saw me and burst into tears. Happy tears? Frightened tears? What must be going through her head?

  “Mummy, please let me out....”

  I rushed over to her side. I don’t care if she’s not my real daughter - all these years I’ve raised her as such and I can’t sweep that under the carpet. I can’t turn those feelings off. Not now. Not ever.

  I can’t un-love someone.

  Maybe Bryan?

  This is his fault.

  No.

  That’s not fair. I agreed to it.

  But would I have agreed had he not already done it? It’s not as though I was given much choice in the situation.

  “What’s happening, mummy? Why’s he doing this to me? Please let me out...”

  I can’t stand it when she cries. I sat down on the bed, next to her and stroked her hair.

  “I’m sorry, honey, I’m sorry.... I’ll sort it out. I’ll sort everything out.”

  “I want to go home,” she whimpered.

  “Soon, I promise. I’ll sort it.”

  “Why’s he doing this to me, mummy?”

  She’s blaming him. Him. Not me. Not asking why we are doing this. A blessing.

  I can fix this.

  Can I?

  We could leave. Jessica and I. Leave and start again - just the two of us. Forget this whole horrible business. Forget it.

  “I just want to get out of here and get this thing out of me... please....”

  I freeze.

  If I let her out - she’ll still get rid of the baby.

  The baby.

  It could be my baby.

  An image pops up in my mind - my baby. My dead baby.

  Dead.

  I can’t let her kill this one.

  I can’t.

  Bryan was right? I wasn’t sure, at first. He was right?

  It’s her or the baby.

  But now she knows it’s us who have her? What next?

  “Mum? Mummy?”

  Bryan’s right.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered as I stood up.

  “Mummy?”

  I turned and left the cellar, running up the stairs - ignoring her cries and pleas. At the top, I slammed the door shut on her. On her voice. On her tears.

  Out of sight.

  Out of mind.

  I leaned back on the door, with my eyes shut. No chance of her escaping with me leaning here, I thought. Never mind the fact she’s cuffed. No escape.

  I jumped at the sight of Bryan, standing in front of me, when I finally opened my eyes.

  “How did it go?” he asked.

  I didn’t know what to say. Only one thing was going through my mind.

  I asked him, “How is this going to end?”

  He smiled at me. A smile I hadn’t seen before. What was that?

  “I’ve had an idea...” he said.

  I’m not sure why but I felt my heart sink a little. Something about the way he was looking at me..... Not sure what....

  Just something...

  Something is very wrong.

  4.

  Since taking her - he doesn’t come home anymore. He insists on staying at the house.

  The other house.

  With her.

  In case she needs something, perhaps? Or in case someone stops by the house? I doubt it will be the latter. No one would go to the house. Not there. The middle of nowhere.

  He asked me to stay.

  Stay with him.

  Stay at the house.

  Stay.

  With her.

  More chance of me knowing what to do, if there is a problem with her health. Or the baby’s health although, at this stage of the pregnancy - I’m not sure there’s anything I could do...

  She’s not even three months gone yet.

  What if there is a problem? What if the baby doesn’t come.

  Then what?

  I turned on my side, bored with staring at the ceiling. Since taking her - I haven’t slept a wink. My brain racing with so many different thoughts. Something happening to the baby before it’s due, something happening to Jessica, people asking after her, people finding out what we’ve done.... even found myself wondering if I left the gas oven on.

  I’m tired. I just want this over with now. Whatever conclusion is due to this tale - I want it now.

  I wonder, do I go to work tomorrow? Carry on with my life as normal or do I phone in sick - vanish for a while whilst we figure out what to do. What to do?! What did he have to fucking do this. Everything was going well. Everything.

  Therapy was working.

  I was starting to come off the medication. Those fucking pills. So many years I’ve been on them and now I feel as though I need them again, need them back in my life.

  And Jessica....

  Everything was going well with her too. A nice boyfriend. Doing well with her classes. Head screwed on. I fear there’s to be no Happy Ever After with this.

  My mobile phone illuminates the room - a text message. I’m almost scared to look; I know it’s going to be from him. Every night, since taking her - the same.

  I hold the phone up to read the message; a short message informing me she is sleeping soundly. I doubt it will be a sound sleep. I doubt that very much.

  Broken dreams.

  Damaged dreams.

  Something we have in common.

  I’ll definitely talk to him tomorrow. No more putting it off. Definitely chat with him - discuss the future and what’s going to happen with the baby. And Jessica.

  I quickly type out a text message, on the mobile phone - ready to send. If I tell him now I need to talk to him I can’t change my mind tomorrow. He won’t let me. He’ll demand to know what’s on my mind.

  I wonder, is that a good idea?

  I don’t want to get him angry.

  Ever since this has all kicked off - his moods have been getting worse. It’s as though he is suddenly a man possessed. Possessed by what - I don’t want to know.

  I hit send.

  Too late now.

  Time to stop over-thinking things. This won’t work if I don’t know everything.

  I need to know.

  My phone buzzed in my hand - a reply already; asking what’s wrong.

  I can’t go into this via text message. It’s not that simple. I reiterated we just need to talk it through tomorrow and hit send again.

  Again, the reply comes through almost straight away. He must be sat on his mobile phone. A simple reply - ‘okay’.

  I put my phone back on the bedside cabinet and laid back down. Back to staring at the ceiling.

  Everything’s so complicated now.

  I hate this.

  * * * * *

  I sat in the lounge waiting for Bryan to come home. I refused to go round to the other house. I’m not comfortable there. Not with her downstairs.

  The lounge.... the last time I saw her in this house - this was the room. The next time I saw her - in that house.

  Keys in the door.

  He’s here.

  I called out to him when I heard him step into the house, and close the front door, “I’m in the lounge.”

  A couple of seconds - as he crossed the hallway into where I was sat.

  He looks grumpy.

  Great.

  “What’s all this about?” he asked.

  He didn’t sit down - not even when I gestured for him to take a seat.

  “You know I’m not happy about leaving her alone,” he continued, “what’s this all about?”

  “Please, take a seat...”

  Begrudgingly he sat down, on one of the chairs opposite me.

  “Explain....” he barked.

  I don’t like this new Bryan. I want the old one back.

  “What are we doing?”

  “What?”

  “What are we doing?”

  “What do you think
we’re doing? We’re protecting an innocent baby!”

  “This isn’t us!”

  “It is now - it’s done already.”

  “It’s not too late - we can undo it!”

  “Don’t be so stupid, it can’t be undone now. All we can do, now, is see this through to the end.”

  “You said she’d never know it was us!”

  “Accidents happen! I didn’t mean for her to see it was me, did I? I didn’t plan that to happen....”

  Part of me thinks he may have done. Part of me thinks he wanted her to know it was him who took her. He’s made it pretty clear he wants this child for himself.

  But then - so do I.

  But at what cost?

  He continued, “She won’t just forgive us if we let her go, you know - she’ll tell someone. We’ll end up in prison. Our faces in the newspapers and on the television. We’ll be painted as monsters. I am not a monster. People won’t understand... do you want that?”

  I can’t help but to cry.

  “Of course I don’t.”

  “Well, that’s what will happen. And she’ll still abort the baby. The baby, a permanent reminder of what we did to her to bring that child into the world. She’ll definitely kill it if she was to get free... do you want that?!”

  “No!” I said, between tears.

  I wish she never got pregnant.

  Nothing would have changed.

  “So what are we going to do?” I asked.

  “She ran off - with the boy. We haven’t heard from her. Tomorrow, I’ll report her missing to the police. I’m sure the boy’s parents have already logged a report with the police too.”

  “And when we suddenly have a baby?”

  “We’ll sell up before then - I’ll sell the properties... we’ll move away. Start a new life - with just the three of us.”

  “Give up our friends? Our lives? Our jobs?”

  “There’ll be other friends. Other jobs. We can start a new life. New friends. New jobs. You, me and the baby. Our baby... The baby we lost; this is our chance to fix that.”

  I don’t say anything, just wipe yet another tear from my eye.

  “We won’t get away with it...”

  “We have to. You want the baby as much as I do. I know you do,” he said. “And before you do anything stupid - think about him.... the boy....”

  “You said you sorted that....”

  “And I did but - if people find out what we did with Jessica - those same people will start asking questions...”

  “They can’t.”

  “Yet they will... trust me.”

  “We need to see this through to the end now,” he continued. “We have no choice.”

  He’s right.

  We have no choice.

  Not now he forced the situation.

  Whatever comes from this.

  It’s his fault.

  And I’ll blame him until the day I die.

  5.

  I sat on the stairs, halfway down from the top, looking at Jessica sleeping; thankful she didn’t wake up when I was with Fiona.

  Ah, Fiona.

  I thought she could cope with this but, now.... I’m not so sure. It seems as though she is starting to lose the plot. Maybe I should slip her some more of the pills? Pretty sure she had previously stopped them completely. Maybe this was the wrong time to come off them?

  I didn’t ask for all of this.

  Jess wasn’t supposed to see my face. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. But it did. It did happen and now we have to deal with it accordingly. There’s no other way. Nothing we can do but... at least the baby will be okay. Our baby now.

  No reason to feel guilty. It’s not as though Jessica wanted it anyway. If she did, we wouldn’t have ended up in this predicament. We would have continued living the way we are now - although, I guess, we’d be grandparents.

  We could have lived with that.

  There’d still be a small baby to care for. It would just be me, Fiona and the baby - whilst Jessica and the boy were at college or university, in a few more years. That would have worked.

  If only she had wanted to keep it.

  This is her fault.

  If I have to deal with Fiona.... that will be Jessica’s fault too.

  “Whatever is needed. I’ll do it.”

  “Mummy?”

  She’s stirring. I got back just in the nick of time.

  “She’s not here,” I said, straight to the point.

  As soon as she heard my voice - Jessica was wide awake. Eyes wide. With fear? I hope not.

  “Sleep well?” I asked, hoping to kill the awkward silence. Hoping for a civil conversation, for a change. It’s felt forced recently.

  Be nice to fix that.

  Nice to go back to how it used to be.... with the time we have left.

  “Pardon?” she said.

  “I said - did you sleep well?”

  “I kept waking up... struggled to sleep....”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I said. “Anything I can do...”

  “The bed is uncomfortable and smells. I need a wash.”

  I smiled, grateful for a sensible conversation, “I’ll see what I can do...”

  I’ll have to ensure all the doors and windows are locked upstairs before I let her out. I should have already checked everything. I knew I couldn’t keep her tied to the bed forever. It was always the plan to give her a little more room for movement. A little space to herself so she could feel comfortable here. Comfortable in her new home.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  A smile.

  The first smile I’ve seen for a long time. I smiled back.

  “I’ll get it sorted,” I confirmed, as I turned and left the room - closing the door behind me.

  Progress?

  Maybe there’s still time for her to come round and want this child too? Maybe we could share it? One great big happy family?

  Early days. Don’t get ahead of yourself. One pleasant conversation doesn’t necessarily mean anything has changed. It could just be her being nice because she wants something.

  Not the first time I’ve seen that.

  Although, it’s getting close to it potentially being the last time I’ll see it.

  END OF PART THREE

  PART FOUR

  1.

  Warm water.

  Bubbles.

  Already I feel cleaner. More so if I were able to fully relax but I can’t - not fully.

  Not with him outside.

  What does he expect me to do? Run? To where? I don’t even know where I am. And where would I go? They’re the only family I know. Where ever I go - they’d find me. I know they would.

  “How are you doing in there?” he called through the door.

  At least he let me close the door.

  That’s something, at least.

  “Fine, thank you,” I asked.

  Keep it polite and friendly again. Try and remind him that I’m his daughter. His daughter... how could he do this to his own daughter? Who is this man?

  Never mind.

  Forget about it.

  Try and keep things civil.

  Keep things civil and he might not put me back in that room.

  That bed.

  Stinking. Uncomfortable. Musty.

  That fucking bed.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked. “You need to keep your strength up.”

  “A sandwich might be nice?” I answered. I was hungry. Also, it will be nice to know he isn’t sat right outside - even if it’s only for a few minutes. Not that I’m going to try anything.