Love Me, Crazy

by Laura Burton

  I took my keys and bag and headed for the door, ‘I’m going to get some shopping,’ I mentioned. Jack looked alarmed.

  ‘Alone?’ he asked, surprised. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I replied with a shrug. There was a local shop on the corner barely half a mile away. Nothing to be concerned about going shopping at the local corner shop, right? Tom was long gone, probably at his pretend workplace- Or maybe not, I thought, as I remembered the nasty punch Jack had landed on his jaw.

  ‘I’ll have my phone on me,’ I added reassuringly. Jack looked like he was not convinced but nodded.

  I left the house and started walking down the street. There was no point in driving, I figured.

  I passed a row of little one-bedroom apartments all sat together uniformly. A line of foliage ran along the side of the road, and their leaves were a lush green which dazzled in the sunlight. There was a pedestrian footpath in between two housing estates which posed as a helpful shortcut to the shop. As I turned into the alley a strange, unwelcome feeling filled my chest. A sense of foreboding filled my head as I walked forward. I pushed the dramatics out of my mind and continued moving forward. Then I heard footsteps behind me; they were moving quickly, heading right in my direction. I whipped around, and before I knew what was happening I was staring at Tom, with his hand clasped over my mouth and his thin finger up against his lips telling me to be quiet. His jaw was swollen and heavily bruised which made his mouth look lopsided and awkward. His grey eyes gleamed at me as he dragged me backward.

  I let my body go limp and dug into the phone in my pocket. I had one chance at this – I watched Tom looking around at the houses to see if there was anyone watching. It was at that moment that I found jack’s number and called it. I looked at the phone and saw the timer start running, showing that the call had connected.

  ‘Tom, where are you taking me? Please don’t do this, please just talk to me, we can talk,’ I said as loudly as I could without shouting, praying that Jack could hear my voice.

  ‘We’re going somewhere I think you’ll like, a nice little piece of history where you can view the world near our favourite coffee shop,’ he said still pulling me along. What he said didn’t make any sense to me, but I hoped it did to Jack. We came out to a black Audi and Tom opened the boot. ‘Get in,’ he said coldly. I stared at him with horror.

  ‘No!’ I said, shocked and defiant. There was no way I could climb into that boot and stay alive unless I could keep my phone and then call Jack again. Tom seemed to read my thoughts because he took my handbag and grabbed my phone from my hand. He glanced down at Jack’s name across the screen, and his eyes glinted with delight.

  He put the phone in his suit jacket; I caught a glimpse of something shiny inside his pocket, the sight made me uncomfortable and uneasy. Why did this feel like a setup? Why did this feel like Tom wanted me to call Jack?

  Tom picked me up, kicking and screaming at him; he stuffed me into the back of the car and closed the boot. It was impossibly dark, and I became consumed with panic at the enclosed space I was in. I listened as a door slammed shut near the driver’s side and the car started. I bit my lip and bullied myself not to cry. No, not this time. I needed to be brave and not give Tom the satisfaction that he had any sort of power over me. I would not cry.

  CHAPTER 10

  The Final Show Down

  The car swung round the corners of the estate at a high speed which sent me sliding side to side in the boot, hitting my head every time he turned left.

  I wondered where we would be going; clearly it was somewhere in Bristol as he said it was near the coffee shop we used to go to in the morning, back when he was lovely Reverend Pembleton, and I was a naïve teaching assistant at Clifton high. Oh, how our lives had changed recently. I tried not to think about it, because somewhere in my heart was hurting for the loss of my sweet religious studies teacher. I thought about Clifton High, with its victorian buildings and creaky staircases. The rooms had tall ceilings and traditional wallpaper on the walls. Their windows were in small panes connected by black crosses. It was like walking in old, comfy shoes being in that school. Scores of years had passed, students and teachers had come and gone, all moulding the spirit of the school and creating this homelike feeling. I adored that place. I would go up to the sixth form room when it was quiet and climb into the attic and sit in a small circular window that overlooked the courtyard below.

  And the girls. I thought about the girls who would debate with one another over the bureaucracy in school life, about how best to cheat in a mathematics test and which teacher they thought was the funniest, or the most intelligent. Private school girls often had the best selection of topics to discuss, not limited to boys and shoes. No, it was much more than that. They were interested in the news and events of the world; they were driven to succeed and change the world for better. They could achieve anything they wanted to, the whole of their future ahead of them.

  And my future lay at whatever happens when Tom stops this car and opens up the boot. I swallowed hard and bit my lip to stop me from crying. It was wholly uncomfortable squished in the back of the Audi saloon. I had seen people in the back of cars in movies, and there always seemed to be enough room for the actress and the camera to be in there too. In this instance, I could barely move, let alone act in front of a camera – and where would it go? The whole idea was absurd.

  The car stopped eventually and I heard footsteps walking around to where I was. I waited with bated breath for the sharp sunlight to pour into my tired eyes when Tom opened the boot. A clicking sound came from the lock and the boot door opened up. I blinked up awkwardly, peering through the sunlight and saw Tom, staring down at me. He then looked around; I saw tall trees in the distance and birds flying free in the perfectly blue summer sky.

  ‘Get out,’ Tom ordered. I shuffled forward and worked my way out of the boot. It was far more difficult than it looked on TV and I had to rest my hands on Tom’s shoulders as I got out. He tried to smile at my touch but winced with pain in his jaw; I inwardly praised Jack for what he had done to Tom. As I got out, I looked around. We were standing in a vast green park, with tall oak trees and a little path running in a zigzag fashion up the hill. There were neat benches sat on the side of the path and people walking up and down with their dogs. I was baffled. Why did Tom take me here? I vaguely remembered passing this place as I walked down Park Street towards the coffee shop. I looked at Tom, puzzled. What exactly was his game? I wondered to myself. He pointed upward. I looked in the direction he was pointing to, and a sudden realisation dawned on me.

  ‘Oh,’ I said, understanding now. My heart sank. Tom linked his arm with mine and muttered to me in a dark voice,

  ‘Dare to run away, and I’ll kill your boyfriend,’ I stared forward, my eyes wet and wide with fear. I nodded quickly in reply. This man was not to be messed with. He was also not to be underestimated.

  We walked slowly up the path, probably looking like a couple in love, having a romantic stroll in the park, admiring the countryside to anyone looking at us. It was the perfect way to do what he was planning to do to me. No one would suspect anything. If there were witness accounts, they would remark how sweet and gentle he was to me. That my death was a tragic accident. It was perfect for Tom, a clean cut, no drama, foolproof way to kill me.

  As we walked up the hill, we approached Cabot Tower that stood proudly at the top, overlooking the park. I remembered being told about the tower when I first moved to Bristol at the start of my degree. It was erected in memory of a seaman who set off sail from Bristol and landed in what became Canada. It comprised of a spiral staircase, with two viewing points. The ornate structure was romantic, to say the least.

  Each step I took closer to the tower, the more I felt my feet filled with lead. I was walking to my doom, in this beautiful sunlight surrounded by happy people, going about their day. They had no idea that they would be subject to a gruesome murder, made out to be a suicide or accident, whatever
scenario Tom wanted to play out.

  We reached the door at the foot of the tower. It was made of wood, and the tower bricks were of sandstone. I stopped and looked at Tom to see what he was going to do. He rubbed his jaw gingerly and pointed at me to go on ahead.

  ‘I’ll make sure you don’t fall, dear,’ he muttered quietly. It appeared to hurt him to speak. I stepped inside; the steps were badly worn down from being trodden on day in, day out since the time it was built. I took a step at a time, in no rush to get to the top. I ran my finger tips along the bricks, feeling my way forward and listening to the echoes of children talking animatedly to each other at the top.

  We reached the first viewing point; I stepped out onto the stone balcony and looked down. It was a beautiful sight. The lush green grass and trees wavy in the breeze. The brick buildings scattered around the park were rich red and brown. Nothing about the scene was not pleasant, except the situation of course.

  I turned back to see Tom pointing at the door leading to another staircase, which led to the highest viewpoint. I took a deep breath and one last glance at the lovely park below and continued ahead.

  It was the oddest feeling in the world. I was actually resigned to my fate; I knew what was to come and was certain that Jack had no idea where I was. Tom’s hints were too vague for sure. I climbed the staircase wondering how my parents would find out that their daughter had died. Would they even know it was Tom? Would my mother think that I went against her advice and expected to have a romantic kiss on the top of the tower with my beloved? Would my father die from grief at his little girl, gone from this world? Or would he be sent to jail for tracking down and murdering Tom? Even if he didn’t believe that Tom had pushed me, he would hold him personally responsible.

  The dark staircase grew light far too quickly for my comfort. My arms trembled anxiously, my body giving away to my nerves. No matter how brave a person is, the body does not want to die. If the body is aware that you are in danger or about to do something stupid, it gives you away and forces you to do whatever it takes to stay alive. I reached the door, and it took all my energy to push it open and walk through. The wind was cooler up here. I peered over the edge from the doorway and gasped. We were at least 30 meters high, and the lines of brick houses looked small from this view. Tom pushed his hand against the small of my back, pushing me forward. I looked around as I edged forward. There was a dial along the edge of the viewpoint with the names of countries ahead. New York was off to the left, and Canada close to it. The brick wall around the tower was low enough to climb over but too high to fall. Tom’s plan was flawed. He couldn’t make this look like an accident. So, then he’ll play the ‘she wanted to kill herself’ card. My heart wept at that. My parents would believe that I commit suicide.

  I turned to face Tom; my eyes narrowed at him, angry. I wasn’t going down without a fight. No matter what he said, I could still stand my ground. ‘What is all this for?’ I asked, shaking my head and raising my arms up, exasperated. Tom rubbed his jaw painfully.

  ‘I thought you would appreciate the setting,’ he replied simply. ‘All those books you would talk about written by the Bronte sisters, well this is your perfect thing,’

  ‘Oh, that’s a thoughtful way to kill someone, give them a kind death, is that it? Why are you doing this? There are so many people out there who would make you happy, why is it that you just can’t bare to see with someone else?’ I snapped. We had the top to ourselves; no one else had come up so high yet. I thought that if I kept him talking, then people would come up and he couldn’t kill me in the presence of onlookers.

  ‘I love you,’ Tom said, ‘Why would I want to kill you?’ he asked, his eyebrows raised. ‘My darling Dee, I forgive you, I understand why you’ve been acting this way. And it’s okay. We will work through this,’ he said softly. I took a step away from him, shocked to the core.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ I asked incredulously. Tom smiled faintly.

  ‘When did you start acting strangely towards me? I’ve been thinking about it, and it correlates with when you met Jack, on the afternoon that we had food with your parents. You became infatuated with that pompous idiot, and you don’t even realise that he’s making all the decisions for you. Haven’t you noticed that he does everything for you? He drives, he tells you what the plan is, he calls all the shots; do you really want that? Why did it upset you so much when I wanted to tell you how I feel and yet follow whatever orders or manipulation that guy puts on you?’ He asked passionately.

  I stayed silent, baffled by his words. Jack did not manipulate me and yes, he did usually take the lead, but I loved that about him. It made him masculine, and I trusted him. Yes, my actions towards Tom changed when I met Jack at my parents, but that was merely a coincidence. What Tom didn’t know what that I met Jack the same day that I had first met him. He didn’t know that I had regretted the decision to go on a date with him that same evening and as soon as he kissed me, I knew that we were not going to be a couple. It felt wrong, and that had absolutely nothing to do with Jack. Once again, Tom was deluded in his own fantasy world. He was wrong on so many levels it was almost laughable.

  ‘So, you brought me up here to persuade me to leave him and be with you?’ I asked, trying to piece together his haphazard thinking. Tom shook his head, staring at something below.

  ‘No, Dee. It’s too late for us; I do see that now. But I feel it is important for you to understand that I forgive you and that I’m not a bad person,’ he said honestly. He stepped aside from the door and suddenly grabbed me by the shoulders and pointed something to my neck. The shiny object that was in his pocket was a hand knife. Where he got hold of such a large, brutal looking army knife had me baffled, but I didn’t care. My mind was dizzy, not understanding why he had just told me that he forgave me and loved me and didn’t want to kill me. Then I saw Jack come pounding through the door and standing in front of me, a horrified expression on his face.

  ‘I was beginning to worry that you wouldn’t join us,’ Tom said pleasantly; the blade was cold against my throat, and I hardly dared to swallow against it for fear of it piercing my skin. My eyes started to well up as I looked at Jack, feeling hopeless.

  ‘Let her go,’ Jack sneered to Tom, staring at him with a look of focussed anger.

  ‘Oh, I will, she’s not what I want anymore,’ he said darkly, but continued holding me firmly, showing no indication that he was going to let me go.

  ‘I can’t have her; I know that now. But I can’t go on without her, and I’m sorry, but I certainly cannot let you go on and defile her virtue; Dee is a flower, a pure, beautiful and rare flower which I must keep from vermin like you,’ he spat.

  Jack shook his head. ‘You’re insane,’ he muttered, taking a slow step forward. Tom hesitated.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ he retorted, ‘I’m not insane,’ now sounding childish. He started to cry furious tears.

  ‘Do you know, how many people in my life have told me that I’m insane? I wanted to be a policeman; they told me I was insane. I wanted to go into screen writing; they told me I was mad. I decided to cycle across Europe; they announced that I lost my mind. Well, I was a policeman. I’ve published a few plays, and I cycled across Europe to celebrate my 23 birthday. I’ve been a teacher, a reverend, a doctor, a manager – I’ve had more careers than I can count. And what have I got to show for it? Do I get the respect that I deserve? No, I get told I’m insane!’ He ranted to himself, his tears fell onto my temples and soaked into my skin, burning like acid. Jack stood still, braced to catch me if Tom let me go, but careful not to provoke a reaction in Tom.

  ‘Dee met me and showed me something I hadn’t seen before; kindness. She made me feel special and worth something. She showed me love, and I wanted more of it. She possessed an innocence that most people grow out of. Yet you come along and ruin it; she becomes moody and cynical and suspicious of my intentions. She turns into everyone else, an ignorant bully who thinks I’m mad,’ he was practically sobbin
g now.

  ‘Tom, please let go of Audrey, and talk to us,’ Jack asked carefully. He reached out for me; I longed to hold his hand and fall into the safety of his embrace. Tom started to tremble, his grip on the knife was loosening, a perfect time for me to take it. I looked pointedly at Jack who was edging towards me, but Tom suddenly regained composure and turned cold and angry.

  ‘If I let go, you’ll go off and have a happy life together. Well, where’s my happy ending? Why is it, that whatever I do, and whoever I am, it is never good enough?’ Jack and I glanced at each other.

  Tom was having a breakdown. He started struggling to breathe and was wracked in guilt and sorrow. He dropped the knife to the floor, and I collapsed onto Jack who held me tightly. Tom crouched on the floor and held his head in his hands, rocking back and forward in visible pain.

  ‘No, no, no,’ he moaned to himself. Jack squatted down to pick up the knife, but Tom grabbed it quickly, and in one fast motion, he lunged it deep into Jack’s stomach. A blood-curdling scream escaped my lips as I stared in horror as Jack fell to his knees, his face drained of colour and expressionless. Tom dragged the bloody knife out of Jack’s body and turned to me.

  ‘I was going to kill you,’ he said in an evil tone, ‘I was going to push you off the edge of the tower and then stab myself with this knife, framing Jack for both our murders. We would be together my dear, in the afterlife. And Jack would be where he belongs, locked up in a cell for the rest of his life.’

  Jack started coughing up blood and held his stomach tightly, his eyes wide with shock. I wanted to run over to him and hold him in my arms, but Tom held out the knife in my direction, his hand trembling.

  ‘But then he went for the knife, and I realised something,’ he said, in a horribly calm voice. ‘I wanted to live,’. He got to his feet and dropped the knife on the floor. It bounced a few feet behind him on the floor. It lay there, glistening in the sunlight, Jack’s blood adorning the blade. Tears were flowing from my eyes as I hyperventilated, looking over to Jack, who began to slump onto the ground. I ran toward Tom, hurt and anger boiled in my veins, ready to kill, if I must. He backed away several steps and stumbled awkwardly as he stood on the blade on the floor. His weight shifted backwards, and he lunged back over the low brick wall. I gasped as I watched all 6ft 7 of him tumble over the edge and heard a piercing scream fill the sky. Shrieks and cries from below were silenced by a thud. And then there was a moment’s silence. I turned to Jack, who was bleeding all over the floor and barely conscious.