Chapter 85
Revenge
“Sarah,” I said, my voice breaking. “Why?”
She didn’t answer, she curled her fingers around my arm so tight it bordered on painful and yanked me into the light.
My legs were so weak it was as if the muscles had been half pulled out, and I staggered, struggling to keep my feet under me.
I blinked several times, trying to get my pupils to adjust to the bright light.
We were in a cream-colored hallway, it moved and swung on an angle before my drug impacted eyes and teetering legs.
To the left sat a wooden, antique side table with a picture on it.
A family of four, photographed in clothes not seen anymore, looking at the camera with serious expressions.
An image containing all the people Bob loved. We were in his home.
I twisted my head to Sarah. Her blue eyes which I’d admired as something beautiful were as cold and as cruel as blades.
My stomach dropped and then rose again in a sickening lurch.
She twisted right and we entered into another room, reefing me forward, she let go of my arm.
I spiralled uncontrollably, landing on the wooden floor.
An arrow shot through my knees and vibrated up my leg.
At the same time I fell, I heard someone cry out my name.
I inhaled a shaky breath, and lifted my head.
No. This can’t be happening. It can’t be real. It must be another nightmare.
My eyes locked with Georgie’s.
This can’t be happening.
She stood on tippy toes on a chair, her neck wrapped by a thin, white rope which was tied to wooden rafters on the ceiling.
Her eyes were wide with terror and desperation.
Running mascara had given her panda eyes.
Sweat clung her hair to her head and trickled in slow running rivulets down her face.
Her lips quivered. The pale pink t-shirt she wore was darkened by large wet patches under her arms. If she tried to stand flat-footed, or the chair moved, she would hang.
My breath jammed in my chest. Fear puddled in the bottom of my stomach. My throat worked as I looked around.
We were in a library of epic proportions for a normal home.
The walls were covered by books seated in wooden box shelves.
There were hundreds of them, the soft scent of old books permeated the air.
Normally, the smell and sight would displace me into to comforting world of nostalgia.
Instead, they sat like stoic, silent witnesses at an execution.
A large, old, well-maintained wooden desk sat in the middle of the room in front of a floor to ceiling window.
Darkness lurked beyond the translucent pane.
The desk held a lamp, computer, laptop, scanner, all the things any modern office would need, a landline phone, notepad, and pen.
Near to that were a couple of old, comfortable looking antique chairs, with a foot stool and coffee table beside them.
It was easy to imagine Bob lying back, facing the window, reading, a steaming cup of tea on the table beside him.
Georgie was terrified, her shaking hands moved from clutching at the rope around her neck to out from her sides to try and hold her balance.
Shaky and weak, I climbed to my feet.
I searched my frantic mind for options. I had no weapons to disable her.
Like a fool I’d left the knife at home. Not like she wouldn’t have disarmed me while I was knocked out anyway.
My body was dosed by drugs, in my weakened state I didn’t know if I could throw her, let alone hold her.
If she was right about Monique, she wasn’t coming to help, and even if she did wake, she’d never think to look here in Bob’s house.
I sucked in a whistling breath. I needed to recover my composure and talk us out of it, buy us time.
Delay the inevitable.
“Sarah, where are your mom and dad?” My voice came out much calmer than it ought to have been.
“They won’t save you, Amy. They’re away.
I gave them an extended weekend at Cottleslow Beach.
The one you were meant to go on with us girls.
” She glided over, cupped her hand on my chin, her fingers dug into my skin.
My breath caught in my throat, I refrained from reeling back.
If she wanted to, with one squeeze she could break my jaw.
Her face was less than a foot from mine.
I could smell her breath, it was sickly sweet, like champagne.
And I could feel her rage, it coursed from her body and seeped into mine.
But it was the evil in her eyes that swallowed me like a grave omen.
I knew. She planned a painful, slow death for us. The hairs on the nape of my neck froze.
“I had it all organized to take you away, to get you away from them, but then you ruined it.” She squeezed my chin, a gasp of pain shot from my lips. She let me go and began pacing back and forth. Georgie’s stricken sobs resonated in the background.
“Sarah, please stop,” Georgie begged.
“Sarah, please stop,” Sarah mimicked with a bitter laugh. The wide smile I’d admired took on all the vulgar proportions of a killer clown.
“Why?” Georgie whispered.
“Why?” Sarah answered, with a bleak twist of her face. “Really, you need to ask, Georgie? I thought you were much smarter than that. Then again, Karson did wipe your mind so I guess you can’t be blamed for your stupidity!”
“What? Sarah . . .” Georgie stammered, a sob hitching her words. “I don’t . . . you’re not making any sense.”
“Let me explain it as easily as I can so you can both keep up.” When she spoke, her voice held such bitterness the sound tore icicles into my bones.
“Your boyfriend, Amelia, killed my brother. He took a sword and sliced through his neck and threw his body off a cliff like he was nothing but a piece of garbage.”
Karson had killed Nathan. It drove like a stake into my heart.
Bob’s voice echoed through my head, ‘He died in a car accident, he was only twenty-five.’
“Then he tried to wipe my mind like I was some weak fucking fragile. It worked for a while but in my dreams I’d see Nathan fall over the cliff and Karson’s face.
It wasn’t long before I knew the bastard had killed him and tried to cover his tracks.
Who does he think he is? Changing people’s memories to cover up what he’s done, to get what he wants.
He screws with lives and walks around like a fucking king. ”
I angled myself so I could see both Sarah and Georgie.
Georgie’s quivering legs buckled and her feet fell flat.
The noose tightened around her neck. She gasped.
Her eyes ballooned. She pulled herself back up onto her toes and drew a gasping breath.
My eyes locked with hers, they were curtained by fear and desperation and pleading with me to do something.
She was not the fittest of people, I didn’t know how long she could stand on her toes for. I knew crying wouldn’t help.
“Georgie,” I said as calmly as I could manage. “I know it’s hard, but you need to take a few deep breaths,. Calm yourself and stop crying.”
I turned to Sarah. Behind her on the wall sat a clock stuck on twelve.
One second you are human, one second you are not. One second is the difference between life and death. It is a reminder . . .
It hit me like a bucket of cold water. Bob knew what Sarah was.
“Sarah, why? She’s your friend, let her go. This has nothing to do with her, you have me, do whatever you like with me, just let Georgie go, please.” Dismay pitched my voice.
She stopped pacing. She let out a high-pitched manic laugh that trembled my bones.
“Friends, Amy? What is friendship? Good times, shared adventures, drinking yourself stupid together. Being there for each other when life gets hard. But what about things like honesty and loyalty? Are they important for friendship, Amy?”
I didn’t answer, I was too afraid the wrong answer might set her off.
Her eyes narrowed and her voice was poison. “Amy, do I need to hurt you to get a response?”
“They’re important.”
She looked pleased, as if I was a student who had correctly answered her class lessons. “Yes they are, aren’t they? So, tell me, Amy, given you talk about honesty. Have you told your friend what your boyfriend is and what he does to you behind closed doors?”
I swallowed heavily.
“You did just say honesty is important to friendship, didn’t you? Isn’t withholding the truth the same as a sugar-coated lie?” She stepped into my space. “Tell her what he is and what he does to you.”
When I didn’t answer. Her nails became claws and she held the sharp point on my throat. The pressure of her nail sat precariously balanced on the beat of my artery, it would take little movement and my neck would be split opened like a watermelon. I didn’t dare move. I didn’t even breath.
“Tell her or I will show her.”
Visions of blood and death invaded my mind. People screaming. Her teeth tearing into a girl’s throat. A man begging for his life. Sarah smirking as she stabbed him in the chest.
My legs shook and threatened to drop out like a rug from under me. My heart thundered in my chest. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the hideous visions away. I imagined a curtain dropping down and blocking them off.
“He is a vampire,” I rasped.
Georgie’s eyes bolted wide open and her bottom lip trembled, fresh tears seeped down her face.
Sarah watch Georgie and grinned. She stroked her finger down the side of my face. “Now, tell her what he does to you.”
It was obvious Sarah thought he drank from me. I didn’t know if I told her otherwise what that would do, what it meant. All I knew was that she enjoyed playing with us and the longer it continued the more my strength could return. I had to play along.
“He drinks my blood,” I whispered.
Georgie gasped. Her face drained of all color and she let out a wild sob. Snot bubbled from the end of her nose.