Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (13 page)

Stacey was concentrating intensely. It was difficult to untangle her complex thoughts. This objectionable character was crying out for her. That much was obvious when you looked at the time he’d spent with her. He was reaching out for help, for someone to care. She sighed. She could not deny their fate. However painful it might be, she had to guide him. He’d found her and phoned her. Therefore he’d opened himself up as much as could be expected. It was her turn to act. The incident had knocked her down, but she had to put it behind her. He had acted out his persona, while she had been impatient, expecting too much, too soon. Yes, it was tougher than anything she’d tackled before, but she truly believed there was a wonderful friend to be made, a boyfriend she could cherish and love. Finally.

She wanted to prove herself right with Col. Her friends, especially Fay, mocked both her faith in humanity and the good she felt in everyone. Whenever she expressed an interest in someone, they would remind her of all the times she’d been wrong about people. She wanted to revive her self-esteem with Col. She wanted to show him off to everyone, observe their envious gazes, listen to their flattery and feel their disbelief.
I was right. I believed in myself, and succeeded alone in finding the beauty within Col
.

20

Jen hurried. After Zen’s return, she’d taken cabs for the first couple of months. Now she was walking home from work again. She wanted to live a normal life. If she let him inside her head, he’d manipulate and eventually consume her.

That Zen did not plan to hurt her physically increased her courage and determination. He wanted to take her mind from her, so theoretically she could withstand him. She’d done it before. Just.

He had almost succeeded back then. She’d needed sessions with a psychiatrist to pull through, but still, she’d beaten him. Only she could undo the damage. It had been up to her to summon the strength to overcome him. The shrink had explained what she needed to do, but healing came from within.

Zen had failed. She’d beaten him. And she’d do it again. He’d only win if she let him.
Sticks and stones
…

What she must not do was think how this could be resolved. Thinking of an end triggered despair. She had to focus on one step at a time. Her domain was the present.
Take each day as it comes, Jen…

Nerves crept in. This situation mirrored a classic horror plot –
evil man stalks vulnerable girl
. To her left, thick woodland was swallowed by the ink-black sky, and to her right, a dimly lit row of houses seemed surreally small. She opted to sink into the tree line. Was that more foolish or brave? She wasn’t sure, but knew that when she finally got home she’d feel proud and her resilience would toughen. That was what she needed – strength. Every milestone contributed, however unusual and reckless, and this would be one of them.

Her eyes flicked to the left. The deranged black mass of woodland taunted her like a huge, disturbing painting. Branches - barely defined by feeble street lamps - clawed at the sky like mutant fingers. Jen increased her pace, hoping that someone from one of the houses was watching her. There had to be one concerned individual. A Neighbourhood Watch member perhaps. Someone had to be looking out for her. They would hear her heels clicking on the pavement, rush to the window to ensure she got away safely. This was no place for a lone woman – they had a duty to protect her. Her breath spread and then vanished into the darkness.

‘You know I’m in here, don’t you?’

Jen froze. Her hand pressed her chest as her knees buckled. She forced herself forwards. Twigs cracked beside her.

‘Ever seen frost settle on a lifeless body?’ Zen asked.

Her legs weakened with each step, as if she was climbing a mountain. She had to relax and stand up to him. She took a couple of deep breaths. ‘No, tell me about it.’ The words jumped out of her.

‘It’s pure art. I can sit and appreciate such a scene for hours, sometimes days.’

Jen forced a lump down in her throat. She glanced at the houses. They appeared dark and empty. ‘Am I supposed to be impressed?’ she said, more calmly.

He spoke sombrely. ‘Oh, Jenny, you used to take such an interest in my pastimes.’

‘Yes, I used to. You mean nothing to me now. You’re just a psychopath.’

He chuckled. ‘You sound nervous. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s your friends I’m going to hurt… Badly.’

She continued walking. The woods came to an end about two hundred metres ahead. Her house was five minutes away. She was nearly there.

‘How’s your boyfriend? The laughing policeman?’

‘He’s fine.’

‘Don’t his nightmares keep you up?’

She stopped between street lamps and looked for him. The woods were too dark. He’d done something to John-Paul. With her heart pounding, she resisted tears. She wanted to be with John-Paul. Anger overtook her fear, and she imagined stabbing Zen with a knife. She welcomed the courage that accompanied the emotion. ‘There’s no time for nightmares,’ she said firmly. ‘We’re enjoying life.’

‘Nice,’ Zen said. ‘I’m concerned though. I’ve heard his screams. Is he all right?’

The thought of him standing outside while they slept made her shiver. She wanted to know what he’d done, but asking would satisfy him. ‘You’re mistaken.’

‘No, I’m positive. It’s like someone’s wringing his neck till he begs for his life. Till he pleads like a child.’

Chills burrowed under her spine and she felt so heavy she nearly collapsed. Her beautiful boyfriend had kept this from her to protect her. This animal was torturing him.

‘It’s not him I want, sweetheart, it’s you,’ Zen explained. ‘You ignore me, they suffer. You’re sacrificing them, Jenny, one by one.’

She wiped clear her blurry eyes. She couldn’t take this.

‘How you feeling, Jenny?’

Forcing herself to regain some of her composure, she said, ‘You’re just a bully, Zen.’

‘Am I? A bully preys on easy targets. I hunt down anyone in my way. A bully functions through self-indulgence. My interest is revenge, not gain.’

She moved on as the street rose to a steep incline. Left leg, right leg. Look ahead and keep going. ‘You’ll grow old looking for it,’ she said, trying to sound cold.

‘And you’ll grow old suffering. Besides it might come sooner than you think.’

He threw something in front of her. It skidded along the pavement, coming to rest beneath a lamp. She saw the blade glisten. Then she heard him growl loudly, as if he was lifting something. A piece of rope landed by her feet.

‘You better hurry!’ he warned, and then she heard the fading crackle of fallen twigs as he ran off.

She tensed up. She had to do something. Panic was setting in.

‘What is this?’ she whispered in urgency, staring blankly at the items on the ground. She picked up the heavy rope, trying to calm herself down. He said he’d hurt her by hurting someone she loved. The rope was there to guide her, but to what? He’d told her to hurry, and the words reverberated in her head.

Perhaps she could prevent the worst outcome if she acted fast. But she was in no state to do anything. She felt dizzy and helpless, wanting this to be a dream. She prayed it was a dream. It wasn’t - she had to follow this rope. She pulled it and felt slack. She kept pulling it, wanting to bring the answer to her as she stood on this pavement, rather than search for it in the dark woods. The idea was too terrifying. No, she would keep pulling.

Suddenly the rope tugged on something and she could pull no more. It was tied to something heavy, which meant she had to go into the trees.

Her heart couldn’t stand it…
You’d better hurry!
She was wasting time. She might have already taken too long.
No
, she told herself.
Get in there, Jen. He’s hurting someone and it must be family or John-Paul.

She kept the rope taut as she made her way into the woods. Stumps and branches scraped on her legs and arms. A few feet further on, she remembered the knife. Without allowing its purpose to feed her imagination, she turned back and grabbed hold of it, her trembling fingers barely able to grip it. Once again she followed the rope, the air chilling her tears. She wanted to collapse on the dirt and cry, but she kept going. Cursing the trees smacking against her face and body, she got on her knees and crawled. When she tried to pull herself along the rope, she heard an object scrape on the ground. It took all her strength to move it. She heard strange noises, and tried to hold her breath so she could make sense of them, but her breaths just became shorter and faster. Then she gasped - someone was in pain. She heard muffled screams, as if coming from a covered mouth.

Jen loosened her grip on the rope and tentatively crawled forward, praying she wouldn’t faint. She could see nothing. Then her hand hit a metal object. The rope had ended. She looked around her.
What is it?
The incessant, muffled groans filled her head.
‘Who is it?’
she screamed. The muffled noise grew more desperate.
‘Oh my God!’
she shrieked. It was a male voice, but she didn’t know where. He was thrashing around madly. Jen thrust her hands to her face and gasped. ‘Oh my God!’ she whispered. She’d pulled the object away. That’s why she couldn’t find him. Oh God! How stupid! He might die! ‘Where are you?’ she cried. She got to her feet and reached around her. Her arms hit trees. ‘Where are you?’
Mindlessly she staggered forwards, realising in terror that the struggling had ceased. And then she bumped into a leg dangling in the air…

She dropped to her knees and then forced herself up again. Someone was being hanged from a branch. The knife! She reached up and touched his chest. She could go no higher.
The canister! The canister!
She turned, feeling almost numb, and swept the dirt with her hands. Inching forwards, the back of her hand connected with the metal. It had handles. She pulled at it. It was so heavy, but she managed to drag it backwards. Shaking and delirious, she didn’t think she could go on much longer. It was too much to take - she wasn’t special or superhuman. She wasn’t a heroine, she was an ordinary girl. She felt his leg tap her back and positioned the beer keg beneath him. She climbed onto it and felt his shoes scrape down her stomach. Carefully, she lifted the knife away from him.

Her eyes closed when she felt his hair with her left hand. They were John-Paul’s thick curls. She quickly reached up for the rope that suspended him. She took hold of it, and with her other hand brought the knife towards it, pressing the blade with her fingers to check it was facing the right way. The serrated edge dug into her skin. She sliced at the rope, rocking her jelly-like elbow back and forth until he dropped onto her. As they both fell to the ground she kept the knife high above them, until his full weight crushed her and then she dropped it beside them.

She heard his choking noises becoming weaker. She picked up the knife and then located the noose. It was digging into his neck so tightly that she could barely get her fingers under it. His fingers rested on top of it, after fruitlessly trying to pull it away. She felt for the rope at the back of his neck and then forced her palm underneath it, guiding the knife towards it with the tip held in her finger and thumb. Though unsteady, she succeeded in slipping the knife beneath the noose and turning it so that the blade dug into the rope and the back of it pressed against her palm. Carefully, she cut the rope. When it split in two, she opened it around his neck and then threw it away. Then she turned him onto his back, tilted his head back and removed the tape from his mouth.

Gradually, his breaths became deeper and faster. She felt for his left leg, extended it, then bent his right knee and placed her hand on it. Taking his right arm, she bent his elbow so that his forearm covered his stomach, and then reached over and extended his left arm out to his side. Keeping his knee and forearm in place, she rolled him over onto his left side. Jen crawled up to his head, raised it, and then gently lowered the side of his face onto his outstretched arm. She felt his limbs and was satisfied that he was in the recovery position.

His breathing steadily improved. When he tried to talk, she told him to concentrate on his breathing instead. Jen lay down beside him, listened to his respiration for a while, and then passed out…

John-Paul pushed himself onto his back. Though his breathing was okay, his neck was in immense pain. He ran his fingers over the wound and felt a vicious band biting into his flesh. His calves ached considerably, so he pointed his toes as far back as he could and stretched the muscles. It was pitch black around the trees. Suddenly he feared for Jen. He felt for her and she was beside him. He shook her gently and called her name, aware then that his larynx had been damaged as his voice was high and squeaky. She started to rouse.

‘John-Paul!’ she screamed. ‘John-Paul!’

He grabbed her arms. ‘It’s all right, Jen, darling. I’m here. I’m okay. You saved my life.’

She wrapped her arms around him. ‘Oh, John-Paul, John-Paul! Thank God,’ she cried. ‘Thank God you’re okay!’ She sobbed on his shoulder. ‘I thought I’d lost you, honey… I thought you’d gone. What’s wrong with your voice? Are you in pain?’

‘It hurts, but I’ll be okay.’

Surprisingly, he felt quite calm. If anything, he was less afraid of Zen. The slag had tried to kill him and had failed. He was here with Jen. They were together and alive, with a future to share. Zen had nothing but bitterness. His life revolved around Jen, this girl of John-Paul’s, who he wanted dead, but who wouldn’t die. ‘I’m here, darling, I’m yours and I’m not going anywhere. He failed… Don’t you see? We defied him again. He can’t win.’ He stroked her hair.