The Death of Me Read online

  The Death Of Me

  By

  Natalie Hames

  Prologue

  He turned off the car’s headlights as he rolled into the derelict area where the two rows of disused flats stood. Nobody was here. Nobody would question him. Broken windows reflected in the rays from the half-moon as it shone through the crystal clear November sky. Ghostly flickering’s of old net curtains blew gently through the gaps, torn and tattered as they brushed the sharp shards which once were windows. He had been here many times over the last month. Watching. Assessing. Planning. No one ever saw him, even the kids had lost interest, having thrown stones at every window and daubed every wall.

  Stepping out of the car, he turned up the collar of his coat and paused for any signs of movement. A possible witness. Maybe a face appearing at one of the many black squares of windows. The moonlight danced in the pale clouds of warm breath forming in front of his face. Nothing but the sounds of his boots crunching on the gravel strewn with debris broke the eerie silence as he made his way to the boarded up door. He patted his pockets for the key then pulled it out and slid it into the heavy duty padlock, checking his surroundings once more as he pushed it open and stepped into pitch darkness. He knew the way. He had memorised every turn, every corridor and stairwell leading to the basement.

  Sixteen steps followed by three strides and a ninety-degree turn to the right where the next flight waited. The ability to know every inch feeding his need for superiority and organisation. Another padlock, another key, and the door to the old boiler room opened. Ashes from the furnace, disturbed only by his footsteps treading a path to the concealed room two storeys deep from ground level, covered the floor. He had done well. Inside, an old mattress, pillow and quilt laid on the floor against the wall to his left and he allowed himself to switch on his flashlight to revel at his organisation. Everything was in place. Every last detail, perfect.

  Her face flashed into his mind as he imagined her defenceless on the mattress. The fear in her eyes, the pleading and begging to be freed, an unfortunate side effect of his plan. In time she would understand, maybe even forgive him when it was over, when she was free. He had studied her movements for weeks. Her social media account telling the story of a troubled teenager struggling with the politics of school life and fitting in. Her profile picture, solemn. The way she would take the shortcut through Greenwich Park to avoid her bullies, taking the bus less and less, her confidence growing with each safe journey.

  Late autumn skies pulled the light away with each passing day, aided by the dreary grey blanket of British clouds helping to facilitate his plan. It would happen, soon. Adrenaline rushed through him as he hovered in the void between fantasy and reality, knowing he was mentally committed to seeing it through. A twinge of panic prickled through his veins.

  “It won’t be for long,” he whispered, attempting to quell his conscience.

  The flashlight illuminated the damp walls, old white paint peeling off bare bricks, and he visually checked the facilities again. Buckets, one filled with disinfectant, the other plain water. Soap, towel, toiletries and bottled water all neatly and precisely placed where he wanted them to be. Bending down, he straightened the towel, taking care not to allow any of the dust from the concrete floor to dirty it, then walked around the small room, stopping at the mattress. There was just one thing missing. His gloved hand delved into the pocket of his coat. Silver metal glinted in the light from the torch as he laid the handcuffs parallel to the pillow.

  “Now, I’m ready.”

  Chapter One

  “Elspeth. You haven’t washed your bowl, again.”

  Grace shook her head and quickly washed both of their bowls and stacked them neatly on the draining board. She dried her hands on the tea towel and looked at the markings on the kitchen door documenting their growth since they were toddlers, and Grace felt herself wince. Two years younger, yet Elspeth had already surpassed her on the markings by half an inch despite her constant stretching exercises.

  “Ah, you take after my side of the family,” her mother said, noticing the look of despair on Grace’s face.

  “I’ll never make a ballerina if I don’t grow soon.”

  Their mother was an inch shy of five foot and Grace knew the minimum requirement for ballet was at least five feet and three inches.

  “There’s time, love.”

  “Never mind that,” Elspeth interrupted as she swept into the kitchen and placed her half-drunk glass of orange juice on the sink. “It’s my cello recital tonight so don’t be late home.”

  Grace felt herself prickle. She was sick of hearing about Elspeth’s recital and a part of her hoped one of the strings on her damn cello would snap half way through it.

  “It’s not all about you, Elspeth,” she said, trying to mask her indignation.

  “Oh, shut up shorty.”

  Grace picked up her school bag and turned to leave, resisting the urge to smack her sister square on the nose.

  “Have a good day, love. And don’t be—“

  Mrs Dalton’s words were cut short as the back door slammed and the top of Grace’s head of dark brown, neatly platted hair, disappeared from view through the kitchen window. Sometimes she wished her sister would give her just a shred of support instead of it always being a constant power struggle between them both. Opposite in every way, Elspeth was the image of their father with her light brown frizzy hair, hazel eyes and tall gene, but Grace had got her mother’s good looks and petite frame.

  Pushing her sister’s taunts to the back of her mind, she had calmed down by the time she reached the top of Rose Hill Avenue. Now, another worry had taken over as the group of girls waiting at the school bus stop came into view. A heavy feeling appeared deep inside her stomach and she wondered what fresh insults they had planned for her this morning. She slowed her pace, hoping to time her arrival to coincide with the bus when it pulled up and avoid having to stand with them all.

  Amanda, Louise and Hayley nudged each other and Grace was aware the whispering had started. They always whispered when they were plotting a fresh hell to inflict on her, making her school life even more unbearable. She lowered her head as she got closer, refusing to make any eye contact which may aggravate or trigger them to engage.

  “Cold morning ain’t it, midget?” Hayley said, her face holding back laughter as she prepared to deliver the punchline she had been rehearsing so carefully.

  “Nice coat. Bet you’re nice and warm in this cold weather,” she said, faking a friendly voice as she moved closer and grabbed the collar of Grace’s new winter coat.

  “Is it a child’s size?”

  Grace didn’t react. It hadn’t take much imagination to predict what the joke would be and she kept her eyes focused on the road, willing the bus not to be late. Hayley and the other two girls laughed out loud.

  “What’s the matter midget? Not laughing?”

  Hayley came closer and stood directly in front of Grace, her face with its top lip curled upward just inches from hers making it impossible to be ignored.

  “What’s the matter midget, can’t take a joke?”

  She shoved Grace, causing her bag to slip from her shoulder and jolt her sideways as it landed in the crook of her elbow.

  “Leave me alone,” Grace said, trying to keep her tone low and non-aggressive but Hayley just laughed and continued to mock.

  “Hear that?” she said to the others as they watched. “She thinks she’s too good for us. Little Miss Midget.”

  Hayley grabbed the collar of her coat again, forcing her down to her knees. Grace closed her eyes and braced herself in readiness for the raised fist to deliver its blow but to her relief the bus turned the corner and blasted its horn.

  “We’ll settle th
is later, Midget,” Hayley sneered, turning away and re-joining the others in the queue.

  Grace stood and brushed the dirt from the knees of her trousers and tried to compose herself as she joined the back of the queue. Everyone had seen but no one was willing to help and she felt her eyes prickle with tears as she climbed on the bus and scanned the bottom deck for somewhere safe to sit.

  “You alright, love?”

  The bus driver smiled at her as she showed him her bus pass and Grace replied with a nod.

  “Here, take my bag off that chair and sit yourself down. I’ll keep an eye on you. Make sure they don’t cause any more trouble,” he said kindly, gesturing towards the front seat beside him.

  When the bus slowed for the traffic lights, he glanced over at her to make sure she wasn’t upset. She was so petite, as if he had a real-life doll sat in the seat. Anger formed a knot in his stomach as it hung over his belt, and he recalled his childhood filled with bullying. Protecting her gave him a feeling of somehow righting a past wrong.

  She did as he instructed and felt grateful he was providing a little safe haven for her, at least until she got to the end of the journey. If she was quick, she would be able to get off the bus before the three girls came down from the top deck, giving her time to reach the sanctuary of the school. The playground was a danger zone but St Meads had a strict anti-bullying policy so at least she would be physically safe once she was inside.

  Chapter Two

  The end of lunch bell rang out across the school and Grace breathed a sigh of relief. School rules prohibited students from remaining inside the building during the lunch break but with Hayley and her mates after her, she had spent most of it locked inside one of the toilet cubicles. With no security cameras fitted, the toilets were a dangerous place to be but she had figured it would be the last place anyone being bullied would choose and therefore the last place they would think to look.

  Year ten students were due a meeting with a member of The Metropolitan Police after lunch and so Grace kept her head down and used her small height to blend in with the influx of students. They all made a rowdy queue outside the assembly hall while they waited for the presentation to begin, and Grace noticed Hayley and her comrades further ahead. She moved closer to the wall, hoping to stay out of sight if any of them looked down the line of students all chattering and clowning around.

  The doors opened and their form tutor, Mr Richards, barked orders at them as they filtered into the hall. Hayley and her friends pushed forward to claim the best seats at the back where they would be out of the teachers’ eagle eye and by the time Grace walked in, they were already in their seats. They glared as she sat near the front, their eyes boring into the back of her head as she watched the young policeman preparing to give his talk on crime. At least she was safe and maybe his talk, which included bullying, may tug at Hayley’s conscience.

  Grace studied the policeman as he prepared his presentation with precision. His uniform was immaculate, the creases in his trousers were sharp and the number on the shoulders of his jacket, polished. The he ensured the whiteboard was perfectly clean, with the marker pens lined up in the tray beneath. Other students filtered in, taking seats near their friends and seats were left empty at either side of her, adding to Grace’s feelings of isolation. She lowered her head and fiddled nervously with her fingers.

  “Are you okay?”

  She looked up to see the young policeman looking down at her. A faint smile masked the pity in his eyes as they met hers and she felt herself blushing.

  “Yes, I’m fine thank you,” she replied politely, sitting upright and trying to disguise the feelings which alternated between fear and despair.

  Oh, why did Aiden Robinson have to ask me out?

  Of all the boys in the school, he was the worst one to take an interest in her and a rejected Hayley had gunned for her ever since. Perpetual feelings of anxiety washed over her in waves throughout the presentation, blocking out her ability to listen and absorb anything being said. Soon, everyone would filter out of the hall and make their way home, and her mind played out different scenarios as she searched for a way to avoid Hayley. The tensions had increased over the past few weeks and after the scuffle this morning at the bus stop she knew Hayley would be waiting for her when she left.

  Students teemed through the assembly hall doors when the presentation had finished, all eager to be free from the confines of school. Grace tried her best to blend with the heaving mass of students as they collected their bags from lockers, hoping to slip away undetected. Successfully managing to leave the school building she made her way through the black wrought iron gates and out onto the main road where parents waited in lines of parked cars. There was comfort in knowing so many witnesses were around and Grace relaxed a little as she made her way to the bottom of the road toward the bus stop.

  “Shit,” she muttered to herself as she turned the corner to find Hayley and her accomplices were already there, waiting.

  Ducking back so she wasn’t seen, Grace felt the blood rushing through her veins, pounding in her ears. What should she do? Maybe if she waits for the next bus?

  “Elspeth’s recital. I’ve got to get back,” she whispered.

  Daylight was noticeably fading with every passing minute while Grace lurked behind a wall weighing up her options, and she heard the hiss of brakes as the bus slowed to a halt. Maybe they had got on, straight up to the top deck? If she was quick she may be able to hop on before it carried on its route. From behind the wall, she was able to see the passengers as they reached the top deck but there was no sign of Hayley’s unmistakeable bleached blonde hair. Time was pressing. The importance of not arriving home late and the consequences of being caught alone with Hayley clouded her judgment as the bus closed its doors and pulled away.

  “Think, think,” she chastised herself under her breath.

  The sound of Hayley’s bragging and raucous laughter remained and Grace knew she was only feet away. She had to make a move. The sky continued to darken as the winter’s evening drew in and the street lighting started to flicker, turning from pink to its final sodium orange. Her parents had always forbidden her to walk through Greenwich Park alone but Grace reasoned she would make up the lost time if she took the shortcut. Despite her parent’s warning and forbidding her to walk through the park she had done it many times to escape Hayley.

  Women didn’t walk through parks alone at dusk so why would a random attacker wait there?

  Her logic had convinced her any threat was merely fabricated by her parents’ over active imaginations and mollycoddling. There were CCTV cameras in the park and most of it was wide open space so she would see anyone suspicious from a long way off. The only part she had to be careful of were the wooded areas at the far side near the exit. There were no cameras in the woods but once again she asked herself why anyone would wait on the off chance a woman would walk through.

  Peeping around the wall, she checked to see which direction Hayley was standing and to her relief she was facing the opposite way. A group of people passed by and without hesitation Grace took the opportunity to leave her hiding place hoping they would block Hayley’s view. She broke her cover and hurried along the street, not looking back till she turned the corner and was out of sight. A quick check for traffic and she darted across the road to the opening of the park and walked inside.

  There was still a few people milling around, the twilight distorting their images giving them a ghostly appearance. She had visited the park many times with her father during the summertime. Memories of when they flew kites and shared a picnic when they first moved to Greenwich filled her mind and calmed her anxiety. But as she got deeper into the park, a feeling of foreboding raced through her body. The open space where she had flown her kite was disappearing as she drew closer to a wide footpath lined with large trees. Branches cast shadows through the orange lights dotted along the way as if arms were grabbing out towards her, making her jump.

  “It’ll be
okay,” she whispered, prompting herself to carry on. “It’s not far.”

  Woodland, bursting with wildlife rustled and Grace spun around, her heart pounding. She stopped. An urge to run back to the gates where she had entered nearly overwhelmed her as her inner senses screamed for her to go back. She scanned the area, her eyes looking for a movement, an excuse to run. She pushed up the sleeve on her coat and angled her wristwatch toward the nearest light. It was as far to go back as it was to carry on. If she turned back now and waited for the next bus she was sure to be late.

  “Get a grip,” she told herself.

  Ignoring her gut instincts she forged ahead, blocking out the eerie alien noises from the woods. The exit came into sight and a flush of relief flooded her stomach. Her house was only three streets away and she would be home only a few minutes later than her usual time. A sigh of relief left her lips and she tucked her head down, stuffing her hands into her pockets and increasing her pace. Her shadow cast itself in front of her, making her appear unnaturally tall and thin as the last of the pathway lighting got further and further away.

  Suddenly, another shadow appeared. At first, it was no more than a head and shoulders but before Grace could break into a run it had morphed into a large dark mass. She spun around, her eyes startled, a sharp intake of cold air gripping her throat and preventing her from screaming. A strong arm scooped her up as a gloved hand simultaneously smothered her mouth, effortlessly lifting her up and away from the footpath, forcing her down into the shadows. Grace kicked and struggled, her eyes wide and stricken with terror as she stared at a masked face.

  Hundreds of images gushed into her mind in the space of a few seconds – knives, stabbing, murder, rape, her own body lying in the undergrowth, her parents waiting for her to come home, Elspeth’s recital - her own death. She struggled and fought as he pinned her down. Tears welled in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks as she squeezed them shut and waited for the final outcome; a searing pain as cold steel plunged into her body or clothes being torn off. Her senses were heightened as she anticipated what was to come and she barely noticed the sharp sensation as a needle was plunged into her neck.