Читать книгу For All Our Sins - T.M.E. Walsh - Страница 26
ОглавлениеMusic raged from flat number 15. The constant thudding baseline from the stereo seemed to rattle the doorframe to the very core.
The huge Rottweiler was pacing the living-room floor, staring at its owner, who was fast asleep on the sofa, the remote control for the television sliding from his hand before thudding onto the exposed floorboards.
The dog padded over to his owner’s hand, sniffed before licking it and whimpered gently. A long trail of drool was hanging from its huge jaw, its pink tongue hanging at one side, panting.
Ashe Miller’s body suddenly jerked, waking him from his slumber as he fell in his nightmare, just catching himself before he fell off the sofa.
The dog barked at him, as he balled his hand into a fist and rubbed his eyes hard. He glanced up at the television, still set on mute as he’d left it.
He shifted his stocky body from the sofa with a grunt and pushed the dog away when it tried to jump up at him on its hind legs. ‘Get down, Clyde.’
Ashe staggered to the bathroom, Clyde in hot pursuit, bounding alongside him, his tail wagging.
Ashe stared at his reflection in the mirror hanging over the small wash-basin and stuck out his tongue. It had a nasty-looking white coating on it, and he pulled a face of disgust.
He leaned in closer to the mirror, pulling at his cheeks, examining his eyes.
His pupils were like saucers. His shock of jet-black hair stood up on end, making him more scarecrow-like than ever. His brown eyes looked like hollow black pits, with dark circles underneath.
He sniffed at his reflection and ignored the sudden knocking at his door. He could just about hear it over the stereo, and as it continued, Clyde began to bark again.
Ashe poked his head around into the living room and stared at the door. He glanced down at his clothes: a faded olive green T-shirt and black boxer shorts.
The knocking continued and Ashe glanced through the spyhole. He banged his forehead hard against the door in frustration and cursed under his breath.
It was another resident and all Ashe knew was that they lived above him.
He threw open the door and stared at the man in front of him, dressed in his pyjamas and dressing-gown. Ashe’s arms were outstretched, gripping either side of the doorframe.
‘Do you have any idea what time it is?’ said the man, his voice raised over the din of the stereo. ‘It’s nearly midnight and I’ve to get up for work in five hours.’
Ashe shrugged his shoulders. ‘How is that my problem?’
The man frowned, taking a step forward. He was taller than Ashe but at least ten years older.
Ashe may have been quite short for a man, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in girth. His T-shirt pulled against his stocky frame, a mixture of muscle and fat caused by too much alcohol.
Still, the man squared up to Ashe and uttered some profanity before hearing a snarl.
Looking down he saw Clyde at Ashe’s side, his teeth bared, ready to strike at the first command. The man looked back at Ashe who grinned, grabbed the collar around Clyde’s neck and yanked him back.
‘He wants to play,’ said Ashe. ‘Shall we see who wins?’ Clyde barked, his jaws and teeth smashing back together, drool splattering over the floor.
The man backed off, pulling his dressing-gown tight around his body. ‘If you could turn the stereo down, I’d appreciate it.’
Ashe made a gesture of a salute. Clyde pulled forward as the man rushed back up the stairs to his floor. Ashe yanked his collar hard, bent down and tried to soothe him with hushed words. When Clyde had calmed down, he licked Ashe’s face, and followed him back inside the flat.
Ashe stopped his CD from playing and replaced it with another one. He hit the play button, turned the volume up higher and grinned before returning to the bathroom.
He found his stash of skunk hidden in a small bag inside an aftershave cap, still attached to a half-empty bottle.
He went back into the living room, slouched on the sofa and reached for the bottle of whisky on the coffee table.
He knocked back a few swigs of the amber-coloured liquid from the bottle and flicked stations on the silent television. He nodded his head to the pounding rhythm from the stereo, and rolled his joint.
***
It was an hour later when Ashe awoke again, still sitting on the sofa. Clyde had gone to his bed in the kitchen and Ashe realised the CD had ended.
So what was that banging noise that’d woken him?
He sat up, listened, and realised someone was knocking on his door again.
He slumped back into the sofa, hand rubbing his forehead. His head was pounding and he struggled to see.
The knocking continued.
Getting up, he stumbled towards the door and peeked through the spyhole. All he could see was red.
He blinked his eyes tighter, then opened them wide as he moved away from the door, deciding whether to open it or not.
Someone knocked harder on the door again and, with anger rising in his gut, Ashe retrieved his baseball bat from the bedroom. He came charging back and yanked the door open with force.
‘You’ve got a death wish, mate!’
He blinked harder as his vision tunnelled.
The neighbour he’d been expecting was replaced with a young woman, around his age with flowing red hair and piercing green eyes.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said. ‘What are you after this time?’ He stood aside and let her in. He looked her up and down before closing the door after her. ‘I’m out of cash, so if you want paying like last time, I’ll have to owe you,’ he sniggered childishly. ‘You can tie me up this time, if you want.’
The dog snarled at her as she moved to the middle of the living room.
‘Quiet, Clyde. You know she’s dope.’
She eyed the dog with defiance, staring into his eyes, which provoked him further. He barked, splattering more drool on the floor. He looked ready to attack her.
She felt the knife against her leg inside her jeans pocket. She squatted down to the dog’s level. She smiled as she outstretched one arm, beckoning him towards her.
A concerned look flashed across Ashe’s face. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t do that, he’s pretty hyper right now.’
His words were sluggish, which meant the timing couldn’t be more perfect for her. ‘You saw me the other day, didn’t you.’ It was a statement rather than a question. ‘You overheard what you shouldn’t have.’ she said, turning her head to glance at him over her shoulder. ‘That’s your problem, isn’t it? Always listening behind doors, lurking in shadows…’
Ashe tried to remain poker-faced.
The dog snarled again. ‘You should go,’ Ashe said at length.
‘But I’ve not stroked Clydie-baby yet,’ she said, returning her attention to the dog. The knife seemed to burn through the fabric of her jeans, right through to her skin. ‘Come on, Clydie-baby… I’ve brought you a treat.’
Stokebrook Secure Hospital NHS Trust, Buckinghamshire 2011
Amelia stared down at the identification tag fastened loosely around her wrist. She looked around the room that had been her prison for the past three years and longed for the pain and the charade to end.
Stokebrook Secure Hospital is a high security psychiatric hospital in the Buckinghamshire countryside. It houses two hundred patients who have been detained under the Mental Health Act 1983 for mental illness, severe mental impairment or psychopathic personality disorders.
Amelia Williams fell into the latter category and was housed in the Dangerous and Severe Personality Disorder Unit (DSPD). This is the second hospital of its nature in England alongside Rampton Secure Hospital in Nottinghamshire.
Three years ago, Amelia had attempted to murder a man who she claimed had tried to rape her. She’d been found unfit to plead in a trial and had been placed at Stokebrook for her own safety and that of the general public.
It’d been little consolation to Amelia that she’d escaped trial and a prison sentence. She’d pulled off the perfect act, making doctors and psychiatrists believe she had a personality disorder and was therefore not aware or responsible for her actions.
In reality Amelia had always known exactly what she was doing. She just didn’t care that she enjoyed her thirst for violence.
But being in Stokebrook hadn’t been plain sailing like she’d envisaged. Locked up with others like her in nature (or worse) and having to maintain her act was starting to take its toll.
Amelia was tired.
And restless.
Every time she closed her eyes she could still see the images of the past. A bloody staircase. A broken body at the bottom, close to death.
She’d heard the screams many times in her head, night after night, relentless. Sometimes she thought back and wondered whether she’d done the right thing in keeping quiet about what had happened. Then she’d think about her long-term plans, once she was out of here. She’d been right then and was right now. Hers and God’s revenge would be sweet.
She’d used her time wisely.
And now she wanted out.
She looked at the woman opposite her. Volunteer Melanie Steward, who had been talking away while Amelia had pretended to listen, was now smiling at her.
Stokebrook had a patient befriending scheme that had worked to Amelia’s advantage. Volunteers under the scheme were allowed to visit patients who otherwise had no contact with the outside world. Trained and given a thorough Criminal Record Bureau check, they were then closely matched with a patient.
Rules were strict and volunteers were warned about the potential to be taken in by the manipulative nature of some patients.
Melanie Steward had already fallen at that first hurdle two years ago, although she didn’t know it yet.
‘Am I boring you?’ Mel said.
Amelia looked away. ‘Did you bring it?’
Mel’s hands twitched nervously. ‘Is that all you wanted? I thought you liked my company?’
Amelia tried to sound convincing. ‘I do but I hoped you’d help me.’
‘And I said I would, whatever you want, no matter if it’s against the rules.’ Mel’s hand swept across the bed and clasped Amelia’s. ‘I never thought that meeting you would make me feel this way… I’m breaking all the rules, Amelia. You helped me realise what I’ve always wanted.’
Amelia looked away. Mel blushed, believing Amelia’s gesture was out of modesty at knowing the love Mel held towards her.
The reality was much darker.
Amelia was repulsed by her.
After the first few visits from Mel, Amelia knew the woman was a homosexual. A fact that had at first seemed to be a setback had presented itself as another opportunity.
No stranger to being intimate with women, Amelia had played Mel like a pro.
A few well-planned questions and the chance to move physically closer to Mel had told Amelia all she needed. Melanie Steward was trapped in a loveless marriage with a man she couldn’t bear to be touched by and the look in Mel’s eyes had told Amelia that she was more than a little attracted to her.
‘Amelia, I…’ Mel trailed off and got up from her chair. Amelia’s eyes widened as Mel began to raise her long skirt.
Not again, Amelia thought. She pushed herself further into the bed when she saw Mel’s hands disappear inside her knickers.
Amelia closed her eyes tight. She heard the sound of tape ripping across bare skin.
‘Here,’ Mel’s voice quivered. ‘I brought it for you.’
Amelia inwardly breathed a sigh of relief as she eyed the intricate cut-glass statue of the Virgin Mary that’d previously been taped against Mel’s inner thigh. Anything made from prohibited materials or sharp objects was strictly forbidden but Mel had broken yet another rule to please her.
Mel handed the statuette over and Amelia turned it over in her hands. The figure was just four inches long but was exactly what she’d asked for. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘Really?’ Mel beamed. ‘I’m so pleased. It fitted the exact description you gave me.’
‘Nobody suspects anything?’
‘No, I was careful, just how you showed me.’
Amelia leaned forward and kissed Mel softly on the lips. ‘You won’t regret this… You’ll come back later?’
Before Mel could reply, her breath caught in her throat as Amelia grabbed the pendant around her neck. ‘What’s this?’ Mel saw the change in Amelia’s eyes. She looked at the small fabric rose at the end of a fake gold chain.
‘Don’t you like it?’
Amelia’s mind took her back to the Rose Garden at Shrovesbury Manor.
Rebecca…
She held back tears as the face from her past appeared before her, like it always did. Firstly, as a beautiful mirage of messy brown hair with wide dark eyes. Her face bore a few freckles which made her look younger than her sixteen years.
Then came the vision Amelia always dreaded, as the pretty face was replaced by a twisted mess of blood and smashed bone. Rebecca’s once full light-pink lips now reduced to a menacing grimace of dried blood and events of unspoken evil.
Amelia ripped the chain from Mel’s neck, making her gasp, her hand reaching for her neck. Amelia threw the chain into her face. ‘Get rid of it.’
Mel was stunned. She avoided Amelia’s eyes and looked around the room. She caught sight of the small shelf filled with a few books from the hospital library. Her eyes landed on a particular title. She knew many pages inside had been drawn over in red pen, many passages underlined or crossed out.
She’d helped Amelia do it herself.
Now she felt the twinge of regret deep in her gut as she read the gold writing down the spine of the book.
It read Holy Bible.
***
It was almost 8:30pm when Amelia heard the lock turn in the door.
Mel was early.
More importantly, she’d pulled off their plan thus far without any major problems.
Mel’s face was ashen, her eyes dark and puffy as though she’d been crying. She had a small bag clasped tightly to her chest. She closed the door but didn’t speak.
Amelia got up from the bed. She reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind Mel’s ear and felt her flinch under her touch. Amelia’s eyes narrowed, forcing Mel to look at her. ‘Is everything in place?’
Mel’s voice sounded hoarse when she spoke. ‘I managed to bribe security to let me in this late and he agreed not to check the bag.’
Amelia smiled.
George, the night security guard, had been easy enough to bribe. Amelia had managed to pay him a midnight visit herself in exchange for him allowing Mel access into the building discreetly by the side trade entrance.
All men are weak, she thought. It’d come easy for her to manipulate but she saw it’d been much harder for Mel.
Amelia kissed her cheek. ‘This’ll be over soon.’
It was like Mel hadn’t heard her, and was locked away inside her own mind. ‘All our life’s savings… Twenty-five years we’ve been married. Frank will be devastated when he realises what I’ve done.’
‘You’re in a loveless marriage, Mel. It’s time you found happiness.’ She kissed her on the lips passionately, tasting the sweetness of her mouth. When she withdrew, Mel was crying. ‘I’m your future now. You don’t have to fear what happens next.’
Mel pushed her away. ‘I don’t know if I can live a life on the run.’ She tried to wipe away her tears as quickly as they fell. ‘I love you, Amelia, but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this. I thought I was but I was wrong. How can this be right?’
Amelia shushed her as she drew her into her body, comforting her as a mother does a child. Mel let herself fall into the embrace and they lay back on the bed.
‘It’s right because God says it is,’ Amelia said. ‘He’ll forgive an act of true love, of true justice.’ She closed Mel’s eyes with her fingertips.
Mel sniffed back tears. ‘God doesn’t agree with us, what we are. What we do to each other.’ She reached out for Amelia’s body.
Amelia smiled as her lips brushed against Mel’s ear. ‘I wasn’t talking about us.’
Mel felt the change in Amelia’s body. When her eyes opened, Amelia had already retrieved the fragment of broken glass she’d concealed inside the mattress earlier.
Mel’s eyes narrowed in confusion then fear as Amelia brought it up to her left eye.
It was what remained of the Virgin Mary statue.
‘What’re you doing?’
Amelia pushed her weight against Mel’s chest and sat astride her, knees pinning Mel’s arms down hard against the bed.
‘I’m sorry I’ve had to smash this, Mel, after you took all the trouble to sneak it in, but how else was I going to do this?’
Mel felt bile rise in her throat as the realisation hit her. The last two years had been nothing but a lie.
‘God had a plan for me from the moment I was born. I’ve used my time to plan His dream and now it’s time for me to put all His words into practice.’
Mel’s eyes locked onto the Bible on the shelf but was too stunned to speak.
‘You must understand none of this is personal.’ Amelia leaned closer to look into Mel’s eyes. ‘He wants revenge and only I can do this.’
Mel felt her voice catching in her throat as she spoke. ‘Who wants revenge? Revenge for what?’
‘God…talks to me. But He’s stopped. There’s no more guidance He can give me unless I get out of here. Don’t deny the will of God, Mel. You were sent to help me. This was God’s plan for you. He sent you to me. Sacrifice yourself for me and there will be a place for you in Heaven despite the sins you’ve committed by lying with women and committing adultery.’
Amelia clamped her hand down over Mel’s mouth as she went to scream, drowning out the sound before she could call for help.
She brought the glass back to Mel’s eye, so close that her eyelashes flicked the glass tip each time she blinked.
‘I’ll give you something to really scream about if you don’t shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch,’ Amelia hissed, her mask slipping.
At that moment Mel saw just what really lurked underneath the beautiful face that she’d grown to love and her eyes circled the room, desperate for a way out.
She saw the panic button near the door and tried to throw Amelia from her but Amelia’s knees dug harder into her arms.
‘I want you to know that every touch, every kiss and every word was a lie. Every time I touched your body, every time I made you forget the sadness in your life meant nothing to me but a means to an end. Every time I made you cry out for me…all lies. Nothing was real.
‘Know this… I scrubbed myself until I bled after each and every time you touched my skin. I faked every cry of pleasure but now it’s my turn. I want to make you scream…for your life.’
Each and every moment Mel had shared with Amelia came into the forefront of her memory and it made her feel sick. The reality of Amelia’s words had taken hold of her body, but now the heartache was giving way to the adrenaline that now ran through her body.
The survival instinct began to kick in and Mel pushed all her emotional pain deep inside her body.
She blinked hard, tried to think clearly.
She was heavier than Amelia. She could use this to her advantage. With one surge forward she bucked her body forward, throwing Amelia from the bed.
The sound of Amelia’s head hitting the floor was sickening.
Mel scrambled from the bed.
She stood, her heart pounding, staring at Amelia’s limp body blocking the door. Her only hope of escape.
The glass was still in Amelia’s hand and she edged closer, bent down and snatched it away before jumping back.
She stared at Amelia’s body again until she was satisfied she was unconscious and edged towards the door. As she reached for the handle a leg rose up and kicked her hard in the ribs, knocking the wind from her.
She fell to the floor, doubled up in pain. Through her tears she saw Amelia pulling herself up from the floor and cradling her head.
Then Amelia stared down at her.
Mel swung the glass wildly, trying to fend her off, but Amelia was soon down on her like a lioness against its prey. She wrenched the glass from Mel’s hand and brought it down hard into her throat.
Mel’s eyes were wide as she spluttered, shots of blood gurgling from the wound.
Amelia stood above her, her eyes cold, looking down at Mel’s now outstretched arm.
She picked up the leather bag Mel had brought with her. Inside there were bundles of notes, £10,000 in cash, a brown wig, a purse and Mel’s security card that opened the hospital doors in the secure areas.
Amelia frowned. She cast her eyes back to Mel. ‘You didn’t pack my change of clothes?’
Mel’s eyes were beginning to look glassy, but still they twitched.
A silent ‘fuck you’.
Amelia reached down, grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked her head up. ‘You forgot them, didn’t you?’ Mel blinked hard and Amelia let her head drop back to the floor and kicked her hard in the gut. ‘You stupid cunt.’
Mel barely made a sound.
Realising she’d have to improvise, Amelia grabbed the sheet from the bed and wrapped it around Mel’s head, covering her face and neck. She then started to remove Mel’s clothes, careful not to get any more blood on them than there was already.
Soon Mel stopped moving and blood soaked through the white sheet.
Amelia stripped from her nightwear and put on Mel’s clothes: a thin purple jumper and black skinny jeans that hung off Amelia’s body. Not ideal but it was necessary.
She looked down at Mel’s body.
She knew there was a toilet across from her room which had a safety mirror in it. She dragged Mel’s body to the other side of the bed, so it was unseen from the window in the door.
She searched her trouser pockets and pulled out a five-pound note, a hair band, and a set of house keys. She removed Mel’s shoes and pulled them on. They were a size too big and they rubbed the backs of her heels as she walked to the door.
She switched off the light and slowly opened the door, checked the corridor was clear and ran into the toilet opposite her.
Inside the small toilet was a wash-basin and the safety mirror.
Amelia stared at her reflection. Her hair was tousled in a wilder mess than usual. She found the hair band and pulled her hair into a rough ponytail. She picked up the wig.
Mel had shoulder-length brown curly hair. She’d had a wig custom-made with a view to helping Amelia escape by posing as herself. At a quick glance, no one would’ve questioned her. But in Mel’s haste to please, she hadn’t quite thought about how she would’ve got out herself. There had never been a time when she’d doubted Amelia’s words.
A mistake that’d proved fatal.
Amelia pulled the wig over her ponytail, adjusted it, then stared back at her reflection.
Not bad.
Her eyes fell to the front of the jumper.
She used some water to dab off the spots of blood around the collar and shoulder. There was little she could do, and she gave up as the blood smudged to a dark-coloured stain. Against the purple fabric it wasn’t too noticeable and at this time of night, there would be few staff and security around to stop her. Government cuts had led to staff shortages, which worked nicely in her plan.
She took a deep breath and stepped out into the corridor, Mel’s bag slung over her shoulder, security pass swinging on the lanyard around her neck.
She walked quickly.
She kept her head down low as she passed each security camera mounted up high on the walls. It’d just be George manning them tonight and Mel had seen to him to buy his silence.
The bright white corridors seemed to wind on forever, but soon she came to the first set of security doors.
She held Mel’s pass over the sensor pad and breathed a sigh of relief as it beeped and the door clicked open. She navigated two more doors until she came to the side trade entrance Mel had used to enter the building.
There was no one there.
George had left his post.
Once outside, Amelia found herself in the visitors’ car park, partially lit in the darkness.
She still had Mel’s keys with her but taking her car was out of the question. She headed towards the security booth that would be the last barrier she had to pass before reaching the road ahead into Stokebrook village high street.
As she approached the booth, she saw it was occupied as expected.
She dipped her hand into her pocket and felt the tip of the shard of glass she’d retrieved from Mel. She pressed the edge against her fingertip.
The man in the booth watched as she approached the pedestrian walkway with some curiosity.
It was George.
***
Amelia had been free for half an hour, climbing over fences and running over farmland, George’s blood mixed with Mel’s on her jumper.
Stokebrook village was surrounded by farmland and a wood, and Amelia had passed at least two other sleepy hamlets in the last half hour. Despite the isolation, she’d been careful to keep to the fields that ran behind the hearts of the villages.
She paused for breath behind a wooden outbuilding on some farmland.
The night was silent with only the light of the moon to illuminate her surroundings. She was tired from running and needed somewhere to sleep. She peeked inside the unlocked outbuilding.
There was nothing but hay inside, and although it smelt musty she curled up in the middle of it, pulling it all around her so she was hidden.
Using Mel’s bag as a pillow, she rested her head and closed her eyes.
***
It was almost 7:00am when she awoke the next day to the sound of her stomach growling.
She was starving.
She rolled over and pulled out strands of hay that had caught in her hair. She sat up and pain surged through her skull. She grabbed the back of her head, rubbing it.
She inspected her fingers and saw dried flaky blood. She realised she’d cut her head when Mel had pushed her to the floor.
Ignoring the pain, she peeked outside and saw that morning dew had soaked the grass and a low mist still hung in the hills ahead of her. She was cold from the lack of food and proper clothes. She walked a few minutes down a small country lane to try and get her bearings.
She came across a small cottage with some clothes hanging on a washing line. She crept as quietly as she could and felt the fabric. Everything was damp from being left out overnight, but Amelia didn’t care.
She grabbed a child’s pink baseball cap, tracksuit bottoms, a top and zip-up fleece from the line. She ran behind some dense bushes and pulled off Mel’s now grass-and-mud stained clothes and changed into the stolen ones.
The elasticised tracksuit bottoms fitted her fairly well, but the top drowned her. She pulled the fleece on, which fitted more snugly, before pulling the cap down low, obscuring her face with the peak. It was too tight, but not noticeably so.
She stood quietly for a while and could hear traffic somewhere in the distance, and wondered whether to risk hitting the main roads or not.
The hunger in her stomach made the decision for her.
After walking for half a mile she saw the main road through the trees, the cars zipping past in a blur. She saw a road sign for a service station and followed through the fields that ran alongside the main road until she saw the Welcome Break services ahead.
She walked through the car park towards the main entrance. No one seemed to notice her dressed as she was, and she blended in with the crowds of people resting in the many eateries.
She could smell the strong scent of fast food, burgers, fried breakfasts and muffins. Her stomach growled as she made herself walk past and towards the small WHSmith ahead.
She couldn’t afford to be noticed by anyone. It would be less of a risk to blend in a fast-moving queue. She grabbed some water, crisps and a few chocolate bars and paid.
Soon she was ripping the wrappers from the chocolate and stuffing them into her mouth without really chewing, before washing it back with the water.
She was sitting in the picnic area away from most of the cars, gripping Mel’s bag tighter, thinking of the money inside that would help her on her journey for revenge.
She looked around and saw the pay phone.
She had less than a pound in coins, but didn’t want to risk going back into the services complex. She put all the coins in the slot and dialled the number she’d committed to memory, and waited.
‘Hello?’
Amelia almost cried at the sound of his voice. Her eyes shut tight.
‘It’s me…I need your help.’
