The Face of My Killer

Chapter 1

THEO

I sit bolt upright in a cold sweat, gasping for air, digging my nails into the puckered scars that circle my ankles.

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut, waiting for my heart to stop trying to punch its way out of my chest. The room is dark, and I already know without having to look that I’m up way too early.

I wipe tears from my face with the back of my hand and reach for my phone.

Squinting, I read a text from my cousin.

Isla

Theo, remember Richard’s family are coming up for the wedding, and you promised they could stay at yours.

I groan, pulling the duvet back, and roll out of bed.

I had, in fact, not remembered agreeing to let her fiancé’s family stay in my house.

It’s hard enough trying to remember what day it is, let alone keep track of Isla’s wedding guests.

I slide my suitcase out from the top of the wardrobe and shove as much as I can into it.

When I try to zip it up, my hands shake and my vision doubles as brain fog sets in.

I fumble the zip, and kick the suitcase with my bare foot.

“Shit!” Pain shoots through my toe and up to my ankle.

Fuck, that was stupid.

I collapse back onto the bed, toe throbbing. The world spins for a moment, and I wait for it to pass before rolling to the side and dragging my body off the bed for the second time this morning. I grab the zipper and try again, tugging it roughly until it closes, then head to the harbour.

The day has barely started and I’ve already had enough.

“There’s the boss man!” Harry shouts as I get out of my car. I grab my sunglasses and give an awkward wave as I walk across the harbour to her.

“Ready to go?” I ask.

She flashes me a grin. “Yep.”

We walk along the gangway and onto the boat, where I mutter “good morning” to the crew.

Harry is chatting away excitedly next to me, saying something about a date in Portree tonight, but I can’t focus.

My head is gone. The nightmare lingers, and I feel ropes tightening around my ankles with every step I take.

The boat slowly drifts away from the dock, and we grab our diving gear from the lockers. Harry nudges me with her elbow as she finishes putting her arms into her drysuit. “All good?”

I hum in agreement, hoping that will be the end of it, but there’s concern in her eyes. I put my hands on her shoulders and spin her around, checking that her fastenings are secure and the dry suit is fully zipped. “Yeah, I’m all good.”

We sit on the edge of the boat while waiting to arrive at the diving grounds, and I take a moment to push all the anxiety that’s been building up inside of me down.

Way down. I check my umbilical cord, fix my mask and pick up my net before the skipper yells out our approach.

The boat crawls to a stop and I give Harry a nod.

Together we roll backwards into the frigid water.

My body calms as the pressure of the drysuit tightens against my calves and thighs.

I click on the torch and kick my feet harder, pushing myself down to the seabed until I find the scallops.

Reaching out, I grab one, placing it in my bag, pausing as bubbles drift past my mask.

I float in the darkness, feeling it press in on me, hating that I feel safer here than in my own home.

Nothing can reach me here, not even my nightmares.

Heat washes over me as the old wooden door to the pub swings open. I tilt my head to avoid bumping it on the low beams. Once inside, I scan the room.

“Theo!” a deep voice bellows.

My head snaps towards my best friend, who’s waving at me a little too enthusiastically from a corner booth. I quickly make my way over to him, nodding to the locals as I pass by. I can feel my cheeks burning under their collective gaze.

“Did you have to do that? It’s not like I wouldn’t have seen you.”

Robbie grins, pulling a hairband off his wrist and placing it between his teeth as he gathers his dark hair up. “How’s diving been this week? Rain's finally staying away.”

“Good enough. I’m bloody knackered; we’ve gone out every day this week. Harry’s going to be showing me up in no time.”

He fixes the band around his unruly curls into a bun, exposing braids running along the sides of his head. “How’s she getting on?”

“Fine,” I say as he drains his lager then wipes the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. I screw up my nose when he licks it off. “She’s got more energy than the two of us. Said something about going on a date tonight.”

“I have plenty of energy, thanks. I’m only thirty-two, basically in my prime,” Robbie says, sitting up straighter.

He’s right; somehow he has the energy of a five-year-old who snorted sherbert.

“She called me an old man earlier,” I say, “because I didn’t know what some new game was. Like I have time to keep up with that these days.”

“What was the game—? Wait. What the hell does she mean old man?” Robbie splutters. “Do twenty-year-olds think we’re old?”

“Why do you care what a twenty-year-old thinks?”

He sulks, running his finger along the rim of his pint glass. “I found some grey in my hair today, Theo …” he whispers as though it were a secret.

“They’ve been there a while, buddy.” I tap my beard. “Here too.”

His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to argue.

“How’s it going, lads?” My cousin cuts in as she walks towards us. The light-blue knitted jumper she’s wearing makes her bright copper hair stand out more than usual against her fair complexion.

I look down at the dark hair on my tanned arm, grateful I got my dad’s genes. No way I’d be able to survive working on the boats if I were that pale.

Robbie scrambles out of his seat and pulls Isla into a bear hug, kissing her cheek. “Drink?” he asks her.

“Excuse me? You didn’t offer me a drink,” I say.

“I didn’t take you for the jealous type, Theo,” he says, hopping onto my lap before I can stop him. He slips his arms around my neck and pecks my cheek. “Would you like a drink, sweetheart?”

“Get off.” I push the heavy bastard until he’s back on his feet. “IPA, please,” I mutter, wiping the kiss off my cheek.

He winks at me then turns to Isla.

“Whatever cider they have on tap, please, Robbo,” she tells him, and then slips into the booth as he heads off to the bar.

“So?” she asks.

“So what?”

She pokes my arm. “How’d the date with Rachel go?”

“It was … okay, I guess.”

“And a second date?”

“No, I—”

“More excuses, Theo? Bloody hell. There’s always something wrong with them,” she sighs, and starts counting on her fingers.

“One talked too much, one talked too little. One giggled too much, one was too serious. One chewed with her mouth open, and one refused to eat seafood.” She looks at me pointedly. “I could go on …”

“Please don’t.”

She cocks an eyebrow. “I don’t want to say you’re fussy, but—”

“What are we talking about?” Robbie interrupts, carefully putting down three pint glasses.

“Goldilocks over here, and his total lack of motivation to date,” Isla says, pulling the glass of cider to her lips.

Robbie points at me. “You need to get out more.”

Great, two against one, just like it’s been since we were kids. “I don’t want to. There hasn’t been enough time for me to get to know anyone past a first date,” I lie.

“Just take them on a second date!” Isla splutters. “Surely it’s easier to take the same woman on a second date than it is to find a new woman to go on a first date?”

“You at least need to get laid more; maybe you wouldn’t be so grumpy.” Robbie smirks behind his pint.

“I don’t care about that.” Unlike him, I don’t enjoy one night stands; can’t even remember the last time I tried.

It’s never worked anyway. It takes me too long to get to a point where I can see myself taking things further with someone.

I’m not willing to let someone get close enough to learn about my past, and I don’t want someone sleeping over and finding out about my nightmares or hearing how I cry out in the middle of the night.

There’s so much I haven’t told them; I can see why it looks like I’m just refusing to settle down. They don’t even know I’m bisexual because I refuse to date another man since—

“Can we move on?” I growl.

“I just want you to find—” Isla starts, but I cut her off with a glare.

“Subject’s done, Isla. Leave it.”

They finally take the hint and change the subject, discussing the wedding as I sit there quietly, losing track of my pints.

A couple of hours later, I step outside into the cold. The alcohol shoots straight to my head, and my knees buckle.

Robbie catches me before I topple over. “You’ve not drunk for a while, huh?” he chuckles.

“M’fine,” I mumble, pushing Robbie’s bear paw off my arm.

Isla leads the way as we follow her down the country lane. “Come on, Grumpy, we’ll get you home and Robbo can tuck you into bed.”

I grunt something in response to that, but for the life of me, I don’t know what’s coming out of my mouth.

The walk back to the farm feels like it takes hours as we stumble along the gravel path. Eventually we get to the farm, and I point to my cottage, but Robbie drags me in the opposite direction.

“But … I live over there!” I shout.

“Shh. Not for the next month, you don’t. Richard’s family came today, remember?” Isla tells me.

Oh. I look back at my small cottage longingly, and movement catches my eye in the bedroom.

There’s a blurry silhouette of a man in the window.

The light switches on, highlighting blonde hair brushing the tops of broad shoulders.

It reminds me of him, and my blood turns to ice.

I shake the feeling off. It’s impossible.

I’ve definitely had way too much to drink.