After the Cabin (5 page)

A few minutes later, once I'm safely back in the house and I've locked the door, I find my mother sitting in the kitchen. She pretends she wasn't waiting up for me, of course, but she's a terrible liar and I guess I don't blame her. I tell her everything was fine, that I took my nose off when I got through the door, and I carefully omit the more gruesome parts of the night. After several offers of tea she finally goes to bed, leaving me to grab a glass of milk and take a look at some things on my laptop. Sure enough, a few people on social media have posted a photo of me from the club, but it's not like I'm trending or anything so I figure I've dodged a bullet there. Closing the laptop, I lean back and take a deep breath.

Slow down, Anna.

You can afford to take things a little easier.

“You mustn't push yourself too fast,” I remember Doctor Larkin telling me yesterday morning. “You're still fragile.”

I just wanted to feel normal. I hate it when people say that I'm fragile.

And then slowly, I start to become aware of a red light out in the garden, burning through the darkness. I turn, assuming that it must be a reflection of something in the kitchen, but when I look around the room I can't see any red lights inside at all. I pause for a moment, feeling a shiver of concern but reminding myself that I'm probably being paranoid, and then I go to the far wall and switch the main lights off, plunging the kitchen into darkness. Sure enough, the red light is still out there in the garden, at the edge of the lawn, almost as if someone's filming me with a video camera.

It can't be that, though.

I swallow hard.

“Stay calm,” I whisper to myself as I step cautiously toward the window. My heard is pounding, but I know this has to be a mistake. “It's something else, it's just...”

Suddenly the light moves, and I realize that it
is
someone carrying a video camera. I freeze for a moment, too shocked to react, but finally the light goes off and I see a figure dressed in black rushing out through the back gate. I hurry to the door and reach out to pull it open, before reconsidering at the last moment. Whoever was out there, they're clearly gone now, and besides I don't know what I'd do if I came face-to-face with someone. The thought of a camera watching me, however, makes my skin crawl, and I can't help thinking back to the camera in the cabin, and the way the little red light kept watching while Jennifer, Joe and the others were torturing me.

Taking a step back, I tell myself that I should go to the police in the morning and let them know about the figure in the garden. A moment later, however, I realize that maybe I should just ignore it and hope that I imagined the whole thing. Finally I decide that it probably
was
just in my head, and that I don't need to go to the police at all. The last thing I want is to get a reputation as someone who's easily scared.

As it turns out, however, the matter isn't really in my hands, because early the next morning the police come knocking on the door anyway. Something else has happened.

Five

“The important thing here is for you to not panic,” Detective Bryson explains calmly as we sit at the kitchen table. “I came to you today out of an abundance of caution, because -”

“But it's out there,” I reply, my whole body tense with shock. “It
is
, isn't it?”

“Anna...”

“You said it!”

“There's a possibility -”

“You wouldn't be here if it was just a possibility!” I hiss. “It's out there!”

Mum reaches over and puts a hand on my arm. “Anna, sweetheart...”

“So anyone can download it?” I continue, pulling away from her touch as I keep my eyes fixed on Bryson. “Anyone in the whole world can go online and download the video from the cabin?”

“It's a little more complicated than that,” he replies. “We've ascertained that the video certainly isn't on any mainstream sites, so there's really no danger of someone stumbling across it. What we're dealing with here is the likelihood that somehow a copy has been seeded on the dark internet, or whatever it's called. Look, I'm not the most technical guy in the world when it comes to these things, but there are sites where people share this type of content using encrypted -”

“And my video's being passed around,” I say firmly, interrupting him.

He sighs. “It would appear so, yes.”

“The whole thing?”

“Our forensic analysis team believe that there are no major edits, it's almost like a dump of raw footage and -”

“So people have watched it?”

“I'm not going to lie to you, Miss Marshall,” he continues. “Yes, I have no doubt that there are people out there who've viewed the video by now.”

“How did this happen?” I ask, as I realize that my hands have started trembling. “Where did it come from?”

“We're still looking into that.”

“I thought it had been destroyed,” I tell him. “The Norwegian police said that all the copies were lost when the cabin burned down. They said they looked for it, but all they found was a broken camera and some melted tapes. They said they couldn't retrieve even one frame!”

“That's what they told us as well,” he replies, “but obviously something was missed. We've been liaising with them since yesterday afternoon and they've promised to get back to us as soon as possible. They say they never had a copy of the video, so it couldn't have leaked from their side, and as far as we can tell it was never uploaded from the cabin itself -”

“So how the hell did it get out?” I ask, getting to my feet.

“Anna, please,” Mum whispers. “Let's not use strong language here.”

Staring at Bryson, I can see from the look in his eyes that he doesn't have an answer. I sit down, but I still feel as if I'm about to explode with anger at any moment.

“We'll find out where it came from,” Bryson says finally. “It might take a little while, but we'll trace it somehow. We've got tech guys who can pull off absolute miracles. It goes right above my head, but give the guys time and they'll have answers.”

“Can't you have it taken down?” Mum asks him. “Surely people aren't allowed to send this filth to each other! It's the twenty-first century, for crying out loud, people can't be allowed to do this!”

“It's not that simple,” I reply, while still staring at Bryson. “Once something's online, it's out there forever. Until the day I die, I'm going to have to live with the knowledge that there are people watching me being...” My voice trails off for a moment as I imagine someone sitting in a darkened basement, watching a monitor that's lit up with an image of me tied naked to a chair, my tattered and ravaged body on full display. I want to burst into tears, but somehow I manage to hold back. There'll be plenty of time to cry later, once I'm alone in my room.

“I don't understand how you could be so incompetent,” Mum says after a moment. “Can't you -”

“It's not his fault,” I tell her.

“Then whose -”

“I knew this would happen,” I continue, as I feel a wave of panic rushing through my chest. “Everyone said it wouldn't, but I knew. This is how the world works, if something like video this exists, it'll always get out. People are magnetically drawn to watching awful things.”

“Anna,” Bryson says with a sigh, “the important -”

“Have you seen it?” I ask.

He opens his mouth to reply, but something make him hold back and I can already see the answer in his eyes. “I
have
seen a few frames,” he says cautiously, “but only because we needed to verify that it was -”

“What part?” I ask.

“I'm sorry?”

“What part of the video did you see?”

He swallows hard, and it's clear that he feels uncomfortable.

“Was it from when I was hanging out with the others?” I continue. “I know they filmed lot of footage from the moment I arrived, showing me acting normal. Establishing scenes, that's what Joe called them. Or did you see part from later, from when I was tied naked to the chair?”

He adjusts his collar.

“What's wrong?” I ask, feeling a flash of anger in my chest. “Don't you like thinking about it? What part did you see? The part where they were drilling through my shoulder? The part where they were burning my face? Or was it even worse, was it the part where one of them punched nails into my -”

“Anna,” Mum whispers, touching my arm. “Please, sweetheart, don't...”

Again I pull away from her. There's a knot of frustration getting tighter and tighter in my chest, and I know it's making me act irrationally. Still, I can't hold back, and I feel as if my entire body is about to shake apart. I'm reacting badly but I can't help it. Leaning forward, I put my head in my hands.

“There are things we can do to mitigate the impact this has on your life,” Bryson continues after a moment. “Anna, no-one's going to be just searching for this video and finding it easily. The number of people who actually watch it will be infinitesimally small, it'll be limited to the people who deliberately seek out this kind of thing. Do you really think the majority of people
want
to see someone being tortured and hurt in a video?”

“Of course not,” Mum says quickly.

“Yes,” I tell Bryson, meeting his gaze, “I think there are a lot of people who'll want to watch it.”

He sighs.

“You're being a little cynical,” Mum tells me.

“Can I just go to my room now?” I ask Bryson. “Is there anything else you need from me, or are we done here? It seems like you just came to tell me the good news, but you don't actually need anything from me.”

“When's your next counseling session?” he asks.

“Soon.”

“But -”

“It doesn't
matter
when,” I continue. “Soon. And don't worry, I
will
go, I just...” Feeling as if I have to find a place to hide, I turn and hurry to the door, before stopping and looking back at him. “I thought I saw someone videoing me last night,” I tell him.

“I'm sorry?”

“Outside in the garden.” I turn and point toward the patio doors. “I saw a red light, and then I saw someone running away. At least, that's what I
think
I saw, but there have been other things too, hallucinations, so I can't be certain. I don't think I'm a very reliable witness.” I pause for a moment, before turning back to him. “I just thought I should tell you.”

“I'll go and take a look,” he replies calmly. “I doubt there was anyone, but if there was, they might have left footprints or some other evidence. I'll let you know if I find anything.”

I mutter something about him not having to bother, before making my way out into the hallway. By the time I start hurrying up the stairs, I feel as if my legs are about to collapse.

***

“Come on,” I mutter, sitting alone in my bedroom as I scroll through the list of files. Finding another that claims to be the video from the cabin, I download it into a sandbox on my laptop and use AV software to give it a quick scan, and immediately half a dozen viruses are identified.

Sighing, I delete the file and lean back, staring at the screen for a moment.

I've spent an hour now trawling through file-sharing sites, trying to find a copy of the video, but so far all I've come up with is a series of viruses. I guess I should be glad that most people searching for the video will just get their computers infected, but I'm also worried that the sheer number of fake results is a sign that the virus-makers know the video will draw attention. I know I should give up, that there's no point finding the video and I shouldn't even watch it if I get a chance, but at the same time I can't help myself. It's as if I'm compelled to keep searching even though I know it's a bad idea.

Leaning forward, I scroll down the page and click on the next link, but it's just another virus. Then the next, then the next, and then another and another and -

Suddenly the AV software brings up a different answer once it's scanned the latest download.

“No threat detected,” I whisper, checking the file details and seeing that it's large, definitely large enough to be a long video.

A shiver passes through my chest as I realize that I might have found what I'm looking for.

Reaching across the desk, I turn my speakers down to low volume so I don't accidentally blast the house with the sound from whatever starts playing, and then I double-click to open the video. I lean back, and as the file is loaded into the player I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. This probably isn't even the right video, it's probably just a stupid rick-roll or something, but I have to know for certain. The laptop screen is still blank, the file is loading, and I know I should just -

“Anna!” Marit's voice calls out suddenly from the speaker, as the screen is filled with a shaky, hand-held shot of the arrivals gate at an airport. I immediately recognize the scene, and a moment later the camera zooms in to show me carrying my backpack through and smiling as Marit runs to greet me.

“Hey,” my voice says, sounding so happy and relaxed, “it's great to see -”

I lean forward and tap the space bar, freezing the video on a frame showing the bottom half of my smiling face, with Marit's arms wrapped around me. I remember that moment, that hug, and that feeling of being about to start a huge adventure. I'd had such a bad time at home after breaking up with Max, and Marit had promised to show me Norway. I never even thought twice about the whole thing, and even my usually-cautious mother thought it was a good idea at the time. Now, seeing myself on the video, I can't help thinking that I walked straight into trouble.

I shouldn't watch this.

My goddamn mental health will drop into the sewers if I see another second.

Still, when I look at the bar at the bottom of the screen, I realize that the video is almost six hours long. Taking a deep breath, I drag the slider along until it hits the half-hour mark, and then I tap the space bar again to resume playback. This time the image is static and a little grainy, and it takes a moment before I realize that I'm watching myself kneeling on the floor of the cabin's second bedroom.

“Huh,” I hear my voice saying. “Gross. So much for the place being kept spotless.”

As I watch myself tidying my stuff on the floor, I realize that this was the moment when I found a fingernail stuck between the floorboards. At the time, I just thought it was a weird, slightly freaky thing to stumble across, but now I can't help feeling that I was a complete idiot. There must have been signs, things that could have tipped me off that the situation was dodgy, but I just sailed along. I trusted the people I was with. Still watching the screen, I feel a slowly-growing sense of hatred for the version of myself I'm observing. How goddamn naive and stupid was I back then? Filled with disgust, I drag the slider along again and then drop it around the forty-five minutes mark.

I feel a shiver pass through my chest as I see myself on the screen, humming as I wash my hair in the shower. I had no idea there were hidden cameras in the bathroom, but my naked, un-scarred body is on full display as I turn around in the cubicle. I watch for a moment, before moving the slider further along.

The next section shows me standing in the cabin's kitchen, wearing my pajamas as I stare straight at the camera. There's silence for a moment, as if whoever's holding the camera is happy to just record me like this. I don't quite remember -

“You don't fancy performing a little striptease do you?” a male voice asks suddenly.

Daniel.

That's Daniel's voice.

I feel a shiver of pure hatred rippling through my chest.

“Sorry?” I hear my voice replying. “What did you just say?”

“You're pretty hot,” he replies, “but I feel like you don't notice that about yourself. How about you let me -”

“Go to hell!” I hiss, pausing the video again. I don't know who I'm more angry at: him for everything that happened to me, or myself for being so completely naive. “How could you have been so stupid?” I whisper, staring at my frozen image on the screen. “Nothing excuses what they did, but you just ran into it with your eyes wide open. You deserved to be -”