done by someone and he has put it in my

  shed. But why? Is it a warning?

  Someone doesn’t want me in this house. Why

  was nobody interested in moving into this

  house?

  I continue to stare at the fox; I can’t take my

  eyes from it. My eyes begin to follow the flies

  flying around the fox’s body. They fly at a

  speed, weaving from left to right, occasionally

  landing on it, to then back-flip off and

  continue to fly.

  I look down to its face. The eye sockets are

  bursting with fat, white maggots and I notice

  a black rubber strap next to the face with

  something smashed to pieces next to it. It

  looks as if it was a technological object. I want

  to go and see what it is but I’m not going in

  there, no way!

  I have no idea what to do. I can’t call anyone,

  because it would look like I had done it. I

  68

  hesitate for a moment. I shut the shed door

  and walk shakily back into the kitchen.

  I stare straight ahead. Although my eyes are

  locked on the kitchen floor ahead of me, I

  can’t think of anything else but the fox. I’ve

  got to go to Sandra’s and pretend I’m okay. I

  have to pretend nothing has happened and I

  most certainly cannot tell her about it. But for

  now, I might as well go to the shop, get some

  wine for tonight and get some food in. I need

  to act normal, as if nothing has happened.

  I walk up to my room and grab the whiskey

  bottle by my bedside and gulp straight from

  its neck.

  Now it’s time for the shops.

  I leave my house and look out onto the cul-

  de-sac. There is no one in sight. I look at the

  Cann’s’ to see all the blinds are shut. I look at

  the grubby house which is also shut up. I look

  at the houses on my side, once again nothing.

  I begin to walk down my gravel path and feel

  off balance all of a sudden.

  “Jesus.”

  I put my hands out, palms facing away from

  me, I feel faint. Must be because I haven’t

  eaten all day and I’ve just swigged down all

  that alcohol.

  I carry on walking and hear a door shut.

  “Hi Ryan.” I hear the voice and know

  immediately that it’s Paul Brooke.

  “Hi there, Paul.”

  “This is my beautiful wife, Leanne.” Paul

  says, resting his hand on her back.

  69

  I look at Leanne. She wears a yellow blouse

  and denim jeans. She has strawberry blonde

  hair, pale skin and light blue eyes. Paul is right;

  she most certainly is a beautiful woman.

  “Hi,” she says, smirking as she puts her

  outstretched hand out in front of her, bending

  her elbow and keeping her hand and

  outstretched fingers in between her waist and

  chest.

  “Hi there, nice to meet you.” I say as I shake

  her hand.

  “We best be off; speak soon Ryan,” Paul says.

  “Bye.”

  I swerve across the pavement. My sight is

  blurred and I have double vision.

  I hear the cars occasionally passing me by. I

  hear swing chains clatter and children

  laughing and screaming as I lurch past what I

  can only assume is the park.

  I continue on and I know I’ve reached the

  shopping centre. My balance is better and my

  sight has regained some clarity, but it’s still

  impaired. I can smell the bakery, I can hear

  doors opening and shutting to the shops, the

  heels of women walking past me. I get a waft

  of their sweet perfume. I hear conversations

  about prices: petrol and tax mostly. I hear

  ‘sorry’ repeatedly, I’ve never realised until this

  point how often we say sorry.

  I keep walking straight ahead; the mini

  supermarket is at the top main road through

  the centre.

  70

  I get to the supermarket and feel worse. I

  need to sit down, now. Before I… I stumble,

  putting my hands out as my legs give way.

  Using my right hand I push myself back onto

  my feet.

  Trying to find a bench, but with my blurred

  vision I can’t find one. I spot something long

  that looks as though I can rest on it. I walk up

  to it and fall onto my buttocks. Luckily, it is

  the hoped-for bench.

  I sit for a moment. I feel so anxious, as if I

  haven’t had enough sleep or food and too

  much alcohol. I look ahead to see a figure

  standing across from me. I try to focus my

  sight on him. He wears a long coat and

  clumpy boots. I try to focus, and as I stand,

  he disappears. Where did he go? I try to look

  around the groups of people, but I can’t find

  him.

  Who was that? Is that who put the fox in my

  shed?

  I need to get out of here. I need to get the

  flowers and wine for Sandra quickly, and then

  I need to get home.

  In the supermarket, I buy some food for

  home, a mixed bouquet of flowers for Sandra,

  white and red wine, and some whiskey for

  myself.

  I begin my return home and feel much better,

  although the two shopping bags containing

  my very few items feel heavy.

  71

  I get to the park around the corner from

  Mulberry Lane. The park is empty which

  seems odd, the weather is okay today.

  I walk toward the park bench. I put my

  shopping bags down next to me.

  I look down at my watch. 18:02. Great, I’m

  late, I need to get a move on.

  As I stand up from the bench, I look across

  to the tree line, there’s an opening in the

  greenery. The branches ping back into

  position as I begin to stand up. I grab my

  shopping bags and run to Mulberry Lane.

  I turn onto Mulberry Lane and look down

  the cul-de-sac. There is no one in sight. I look

  to the tree line and the Cann’s. Then I look

  over to my house, all seems well, until I look

  over to the grubby house. The curtains twitch.

  Is he following me?

  “Ryan.” I hear Sandra shout.

  Looking over to the Cann’s, I see her, poking

  her head out of the window. “You’re late.”

  “I know. I’m so sorry. Let me run these

  inside, then I’ll be straight over.”

  “Sure. See you in a minute.”

  She shuts her window and I quickly pace to

  my house.

  I get inside, run into the kitchen and toss my

  bags on the kitchen table. I pull out the

  flowers and wine and then turn to the fridge

  and put the shopping bags in it.

  I look around as I leave the kitchen, and

  notice my table has moved. It has been turned

  around. The side that was facing the wall is

  72

  now facing me. I take a glance at the kettle; it

  has changed plug sockets and also faces a

  different way.

  As I look at the table again, I notice

  something, on the end of the table. I run my

  hand along the smooth edge until I reach a

  rough patch.

  What’s that?

  I kneel down and look at the rough patch of

  the edge of the table. I brush over it with my

  index finger, it’s not a stain. Scratch marks.

  Where would those have come from?

  I take a closer look. It’s writing!

  Someone has come into my home, moved

  my furniture and scratched a message on the

  edge of my table.

  I take a closer look. The writing isn’t

  completely clear and the message makes no

  sense. It reads: ‘beaten hints me’.

  What does ‘beaten hints me’ mean?

  I stare at the scratches for a moment. Who

  could have done this? Who could come into

  my house without any trace and without

  forcing an entry? The hairs on my neck stand

  up, my stomach lurches and twists as several

  thoughts process in my mind. The thoughts

  are fretful and fearful. My head spins.

  Someone or something wants to scare me.

  I go out of the kitchen and look around the

  house. I look in the sitting room. I go up to

  the bedrooms; all are normal except mine. I

  step in; the floorboards creak louder than I

  remember. I continue to look at the end of

  my bed. How the hell did that get there? It

  73

  wasn’t there when I went for my sleep, I don’t

  remember it there, but then again I was in a

  rush.

  The old teddy from the basement sits at the

  end of my bed, facing my pillows. The bear

  used to have one eye but now it has two red

  pins for eyes. I walk over to it and pull it off

  my bed. I hold the back of it and look at its

  dusty ear and pinned eyes.

  Is this meant to mean something too?

  I walk downstairs with the bear. I go towards

  the basement door and notice it’s open - just

  two millimetres, but open nonetheless. I

  pause then slowly step towards the door. My

  silence is ruined by the flooring that creaks as

  I balance my body weight. I walk over and

  swing the door open. I step under the stairs

  and through the doorway. The light in the

  basement is already on.

  “Hello?” I shout, but there is no reply. “If

  someone’s down here, come out now and I’ll

  let you leave unharmed.”

  I stand in silence.

  I begin to walk down the groaning stairs. I

  get to the bottom and look around the

  basement. There’s nobody there.

  I look at the bear and toss it onto the pink

  children’s table under the basement stairs and

  leave the basement.

  I slam the basement door to make sure it is

  shut.

  Right, now it’s time to go over to Sandra’s.

  74

  Sandra Cann

  Killing For Your Love

  Chapter 8

  Lizzie and the kids are still missing. The police

  are trying to pin this on me, I can tell.

  I’m staying undetected.

  I’m searching for women that match Lizzie’s

  description by going to morgues and viewing the

  dead bodies. If I am able to find Lizzie, that will

  be the end of it. I will search for the kids if they

  aren’t with her and I will search for the killer…

  Chapter 12

  I look up to the tall and thick-set, ebony-skinned

  man, who says: “Are you ready?”

  “Yes I am.”

  We walk into a room with white walls and a

  window looking into the morgue. A bed sits in

  the middle of the room in front of our window.

  The bed has an uneven green sheet covering the

  body.

  A bronze-skinned fellow appears from nowhere

  wearing a white lab coat and latex gloves.

  The woman is blonde, 5’6. She was strangled

  and was then chucked into a skip, that’s all I

  know.

  “Prepare yourself son.” The ebony man says to

  me.

  “I’m used to this.” I reply.

  The man glares at me and then looks back to the

  window.

  75

  The man through the window lifts off the cover

  to reveal a blonde woman. Her neck is dark

  purple with red blemishes, made by what was

  used to strangle her. Her skin is pale and her

  veins are dark purple with a tint of green. She

  looks as if she was a beautiful woman.

  “This isn’t her.” I say as I leave the room…

  Chapter 13

  I look at the enormous white American style

  house from my car. I see her; I think it’s her, it’s

  Lizzie. She walks up to a house, but whose, I

  don’t know.

  She wears a long black coat and heels with her

  hair straightened.

  She saunters up to the door, I see her hand move

  against the door and then hear the one second

  delayed knock.

  The door opens and I cannot see who answers.

  She stands there for a moment, nodding. I see a

  dark silhouette of the man who answers. He is

  hidden by the night. She looks behind and I see

  her face for a second. My mind goes blank, is that

  Lizzie?

  She steps into the dim house where no lights are

  switched on. The man stares in my direction. He

  stands still. He stays as still as I am. I try to

  focus on his face. Who is this man and was that

  Lizzie? Is she in trouble? He continues to stare

  but all of a sudden, he slams the door.

  I get out of my car and shut the door. I lean

  against the car, waiting to see if anything

  happens.

  76

  The house stays dark for a moment. The

  neighbourhood is silent. The street is silent. I feel

  the breeze brush past me from different

  directions.

  I hope Lizzie isn’t in some sort of trouble.

  I look to my right to see an old man. He pauses

  mid-stagger and looks at me. I look away, back to

  the house to see that a light has turned on

  upstairs.

  I walk up to the dark house, looking around to

  see if there is anybody around, there isn’t.

  I walk right up to the door and try the handle.

  The door is locked; I’ll go around the back.

  “Hiya Ryan glad you could make it.” Sandra

  says as she opens the door with a beaming

  grin.

  “I’m so sorry I’m late, I got distracted, very

  sorry, but I’m sure we’ll still be able to have a

  great evening.”

  “We will, don’t you worry.” Sandra looks

  down as she steps to one side to let me in.

  “Drink?” She asks as she welcomes me in.

  “Oh yes please, open this if you like.” I pull

  the bottle of wine out of my shopping bag.

  “Oh thank you Ryan, you didn’t have to.”

  I walk past her and I get the scent of her

  sweet, recently-sprayed perfume. I look into

  the open lay-out of the house and look back

  to Sandra shutting the front door.

  77

  “Right, do you want the wine you’ve brought

  or do you want something stronger?” she

  says, twiddling her thumbs.

  “I think I’ll start with the wine actually.”

  “Okay, well come in to the kitchen, dinner is

  ready, we’ve got steak tonight.”

  “Nice, I love steak.” I say as we walk into the

  kitchen.

  Sandra serves up the food and we start our

  meal. At first it’s silent; until I ask: “So how

  long have you and Simon been married?”

  “Oh god, well it’s been around eighteen years

  now. We had Sam when we were quite young

  but we weren’t married, much to the dismay

  of my parents. I wish I could go back to those

  days when we were first together.”

  “Oh? Why would you want to go back? You

  have your own house and you don’t have to

  work, he’s obviously a wealthy man.”

  “Yes it’s all very good but,” Sandra pauses

  and stares at me. She downs her glass of wine.

  “Don’t worry about it Ryan, this isn’t your

  problem.”

  She stands up to get another bottle of wine.

  “No you can tell me Sandy. What’s wrong

  between you and Simon?”

  Sandra returns with another bottle of wine.

  She pours it into her glass then places the

  bottle in the middle and says: “Help yourself

  darling.”

  Sandra looks at me and smiles. Her eyes stay

  in the same position, her lips move, and her

  78

  cheeks flush. Her eyes look watery as she

  looks at her glass.

  She picks up her glass and knocks it back to

  finish the wine and pours herself another one.

  “Sandra you can tell me,” I say as I hold her

  hand across the table. “I don’t like seeing you

  like this.”

  “It’s nothing Si…” She looks up, her tongue

  clicks and she continues. “Ryan… it’s

  nothing, don’t worry.”

  “I may be able to help. Come on, you can tell

  me anything.”

  She hesitates for a moment.

  “Okay. I’m only telling you this because I’ve

  had too much wine. You can’t tell Si about

  what I’m about to say.”

  “Okay.”

  “Promise?”

  “Of course yeah, I promise.”

  “Okay. Well perhaps I’m imagining it, but I

  just don’t think Simon loves me anymore.”