Fake (A Pretty Pill) (43 page)

I feel if I turn around I’ll see a monster standing there, waiting to tear my flesh from me strip by strip.  I’m not
calm; I’m simply frozen in place with a sick gnawing feeling in my stomach.

The jerking
actions of my hand falling back away from the curtains return my mind to the situation.

The only monster is a person monster.  And the reality that is Ethan sends a wave of pins and needles across my chest and down my arms.
  My scalp is prickling and I feel immensely uncomfortable.

I can’t turn
around; I know he’s there watching me.  I can feel it; I can feel his gaze touching my skin; I can feel the imminent danger, because the warning sirens in my head are pounding against the confines of my skull as is my heart against my ribcage.  There’s a man standing behind me.  I know it; I can smell his cologne and feel the intense stare he has leveled on me.  I also understand he’s not here to play friendly and he won’t take no as an option.  I can’t turn around and face him standing behind me, because I can’t willingly know I ran into his grasp. 

I shakily begin to move forward.  I plan on
ignoring him for the moment and keeping him behind me.  I pretend not to notice the creeping fear now claiming my entire body.  I know my movements are jerky and I know he won’t be fooled by my pretend ignorance.  I do this for myself, not for him.  I walk towards the lounge area, slowly and methodically moving away from him, so that I know I didn’t walk to him willingly.

I can no longer hear anything but
an ethereal lamenting of angels, which I understand is my soundtrack for finality.  I cannot let that be the fate for the two other people in this house right now.

I remain calm as I walk slowly onto the carpeted lounge room floor.  I don
’t bother to turn the lights on; there really isn’t a good enough reason.  I compel myself to walk into the darkness and it’s there that I see him in the window glass - in the lounge room’s window glass.  He’s following me, walking at a discrete distance.  My heart is beating rapidly; and I nearly wet myself at the sight of him starring at me with his darkened eyes.  I delay my next step barely, but to me it feels like forever.  He’s stepping in time to my own stumbling footsteps.  There’s a methodical calmness about him.  He’s stalking me.  He’s waiting for me to run, like a big cat becoming excited by the chase. 

I can’t help my body’s reaction,
the instinct is to run.  Especially now that I’ve seen him.

I can’t help my burning need to warn and protect the two other occupants of the house.

I flinch, just immediately before I leap and then sprint towards the hallway, where I turn left and rapidly make my way to little Ben’s door.

The door is closed and the handle is missing.  This feels like a nightmare; I’m waiting for the hallway to stretch out and for a multitude of doors without handles to appear.

I’m frantic, and so I rush to the next door, the door belonging to Jade, but this time the door is simply locked.

I freeze with the knowledge that he’
s done this.  That he’s made it so I couldn’t reach them, or worse; he’s done something to them already.

I’m scared to turn around – I feel like I’m trapped in this never ending nightmare; and that my voice has been stolen.

I try to call out to Jade, but my beating heart is making more noise than the rasping sound emitting from my throat.  My voice is stolen… it’s gone.

A creeping icy chill goes through me.  It prevents me momentarily from doing anything but feel intense fear.

I realize that once again I’m showing this monster my back.

And I can acutely feel his presence.
  I’m sort of confused that he hasn’t tackled me and taken me.

He’
s still behind me and I know he’s closer than before.  Maybe he’s three feet behind me.  I feel his immediacy and believe he could reach out and grab me.  The prickles on my flesh are heightened by his proximity.  The fact that he’s toying with me and letting me fearfully wander through the house, knowing he’s there, highlights his twisted and dislocated need to unhinge his prey, which is me.

I hope Jade is okay
and I plead with anyone or anything that will listen that little Ben is too.

H
e is here for me, and I take some comfort in the fact that they’re probably okay as a result, and once I lure this asshole away from the house, I’ll do whatever I can to stop him from taking me completely. I’ll fight him like I promised.

It’s now time to turn towards him and make an end of it.

Slowly I turn around.

My movements are jerky
and I shake all over like I’m standing in snow rather than a warm house.

My body is refusing to comply;
I’m forcing it to face this fear.

I’m trying to lift my head and eyes.
  To see his distasteful smirk in front of me, to see his expression and face this nightmare head on.

A whimper escapes me.

I’m in lockdown thinking about what I’m preparing to face.

Inch by painful inch I lift my f
ace and open my eyes to…

Nothing.

I inch forward.

Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Did I imagine it?

Was it a dream?

My confusion knows no bounds.  I inch my eye to the corner of the other hallway and look around.

Nothing.

I slowly walk to my room.  I stand in front of my open door and the prickles are back.

Either he
’s in my room or he’s behind me once more.  And now my skin is crawling – it’s attempting to jump right off my body.

The nightlight illuminates my room.  I can see my bed, and I can see the can of mace on my side of the bed.
  My side is the far side of the bed, away from the door.  The position I’m in to be furthest from danger.

I suck in
a breath.

I need to get to th
at mace.  I can do it for Silas; this will be over then.

I know Ethan
’s watching me, so I decide in that moment to run and jump on an odd beat.

It almost works for me.

I run halfway through dragging in a breath.

I dive onto the bed and grab the mace.

I quickly twist and turn around to see him standing behind the door with a handgun carefully pointed at me.

I’m breathing hard.

He doesn’t appear to be breathing at all.

He was inches from my face, looking at me through the crack in the door.

“Drop it.”

“You won’t shoot me.” I
barely squeak out.

“I will
shoot you; I’ll shoot you in the knee.  You don’t need your knee to get around, because you’ll still be able to limp.  But I hear it hurts like a motherfucker.”

And t
hen he throws a shoe at my head and I jump and try to press the nozzle on the mace, but the damn thing slips out of my now sweaty hands to the floor.

I roll over to collect it up,
but he’s on me.

“Déjà vu.”
He grunts as he pulls my legs toward him to prevent me reaching my mace, and then holding the gun to my head.  “If you don’t co-operate Isobelle, I’ll tie you up and go and shoot the red-headed bitch.” He sneers.

I nod.  I have to get away from here before I take him on.

“Have you hurt them?” I fearfully ask.

Now my fucking voice works
properly?

She’s not my type.” He sneers.  I don’t want to know what he means by this.

“The baby?” I croak.

“He’s a baby – of course he’s safe, now p
ut your hands behind your back Isobelle.”

“Ethan, please don’t do this.”

“No, not Ethan.  I’m Michael.”

“Michael?”

“Yes.  That’s my name.  My real name.” He says as he secures zip ties around my wrists.

He’s been kneeling on my backside, and when he gets up, the entire bed lifts.

“Michael?”

“Isobelle.”

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home.”

He turns me over on the bed so I’m now looking up.

“I am home.” I try to explain.

“No, you’re not. Home is a long drive away.  It’ll take us all day to get there.”  He says switching the bedside lamp on.

He’s pulling a back pack off his back and he’s placed the gun on Silas’ side table.  H
is face is over the top of his bag.

I have a sudden inspiration.

I kick up and connect with his face.

I connect
with his cheekbone, but also slightly with his nose, and he’s instantly gushing blood all over the place.

“Fuck
.”  He shouts.

He quickly
turns at the same time that I’m attempting to get up and kick him again.

The
n a loud dull boom sounds beside me.

I
instantly freeze.

He’s placed a bullet directly
into the bed by pressing the nozzle into the mattress.

I’m breathing heavily
, noisily.

“Don’t fucking move Isobelle.”  He says like he has a cold.

I’m not moving.

There’s blood everywhere.

He reaches forward and tapes up my mouth.  And then he’s pulling out a knife from the bag.  A long blade, which would not be easy to conceal.

H
e holds the gun to my knee and places the knife out of my reach.  He lifts Silas’ pillow to his nose briefly and wipes some of the blood away.

“You
could’ve broken my nose Isobelle.  I’ll return the favor later, when we’re getting to know each other better.” He growls through his pain.

I can’t talk.  I can only stare.
 

I don’t think I’ve broken his nose; apart from the blood, it looks fairly normal.  But there’s an awful lot of blood; perhaps I did.

My chest rises and falls in extreme movements.

He throws the pillow to one side.

Then he’s collecting up the knife again and sliding the blunt side up my thigh.

“You can’t take anything from here with you.  Including your clothes… I gather they smell like him.” He sneers.

I’m being swamped with fear, why is this Michael toying with me and why is he taking so long?  Has he managed to delay Silas?  Has he done something to Silas and Ben?  Is he responsible for the gym?

I’m wondering how I can take this fight outside, or should I say struggle, because he’s got the upper hand.  And how do I fight a maniac who’s carrying a gun and brandishing a knife?

He slides the knife under one side of my panties and slices them through.  He repeats the gesture on the other side and then tears the offending material off roughly, burning me between the thighs where he pulls them out from behind me.

I’m revealed to him and he’s looking.

“Nice, very nice.  But what’s this?”  He asks, indicating the scars, yet he’s smiling.  Somehow he knows about it.  I don’t want to know how, but I’m absolutely certain he’s been watching me in various states of undress; and he’s been doing it for some time now.

I whimper.

“Let’s get that shirt off too shall we.”

He pulls the gun up and pushes it into the soft flesh just above my pelvis, and
just at the edge of my scarring.  He proceeds to hack off my t-shirt.

“So beautiful.  Damaged but beautiful.”

He puts the knife back in his bag and pulls out a dressing gown.  A black dressing gown.

“Stand.” He demands, stepping back and lifting up the gun to point
it at my knee.

As I stand, the t-
shirt falls to the sides and I’m left standing there naked.

He drapes
and ties the dressing gown around me, effectively tying my arms into the robe; and then he lifts it from the area of my left leg.  I feel a sharp and painful jab in my left thigh.  I try to move away but he has his body wrapped around me.

I do manage to lift my
right leg and knee him in the stomach.  He grunts.

“Shit,
Isobelle.  I enjoy a spirited woman, but wait till we’re fucking please.” He growls.

I vomit in my mouth,
and then I’m forced to swallow the burning liquid back down, because of the tape.

I’m moaning and whimpering.

“That was Ketamine.  It will take effect in a second.”

It’s taking effect now
asshole.

I feel myself beginning to
slip into a delirious and sedated state.

Ben.

Silas is screeching through the streets ahead of me.  He’s not himself and he’s not wearing his helmet.  I have by far the faster bike, but he’s on the edge, or perhaps he’s already stepped off.