Chapter 30 #2
I looked over my shoulder, slowing my pace a little as I did so.
The SUV was crawling along behind me, a few metres back.
The driver no doubt was looking for a particular house.
The vehicle came to a stop, the engine running.
Whoever it was had found where they were going.
I pushed on, and the low purr of the idling engine burst into life again, but I had no time to think about it as the rain sodden brown paper eco-bag, full of the purchases that no longer felt essential, all but fell apart.
For the third time, my shopping tumbled to the ground.
The SUV had stopped. The engine idled and the lights, which had been dipped, suddenly blinded me as they were thrown onto full beam.
What the fuck was the driver doing? I scrambled to pick up what I could of my shopping, not caring if I missed anything. Don’t run, don’t look back, don’t look like you’re scared… but I was scared as the SUV dipped its lights and began to crawl along the deserted road behind me.
My heart was pumping hard. Nervous sweat mixed with the rain that was drenching me. I got to the corner of the road. My home was just a couple of houses away. That’s what I needed to focus on. But I stopped and looked over my shoulder. The SUV glided to a halt and the lights switched off.
This time I couldn’t contain the hysteria and I began to laugh. Somebody looking for a house number. They’d found it. The driver would turn the engine off, get out of the car, and disappear inside.
The SUV started up again, and crept towards me.
I dropped the few things I was holding, and ran.
My breath came in short, panicked gasps, burning my lungs, my throat. Behind me, the SUV’s headlights switched to full beam and cut through the sheets of rain like a knife.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
But I couldn’t help it. My head snapped around, my body jerking mid-step as I glanced over my shoulder. The SUV was crawling behind me like some huge, monstrous insect through the rain-drenched night.
I turned the corner, my house finally in sight. Almost there. Almost home. Almost safe. Just a few more steps. My shoes skidded on the wet pavement as I stumbled forward, clutching at the stitch forming in my side.
Then I stopped.
Something was wrong.
The outside porch light wasn’t on. It was always on, a warm, steady glow to welcome me home. Where there should have been soft light, there was only darkness, making my skin crawl.
And then I saw it.
At first, it was nothing more than a dark shape on my front step. A lump, barely visible in the rain and shadows. But as I inched closer, dread coiled tight and heavy in my chest, squeezing the air from my lungs.
Something lay by my door, dark and shapeless. I squinted, heart still pounding, the rain streaming down my face, blurring my vision. Lightning flashed, sudden and bright, illuminating the scene in stark, brutal clarity.
A limp body, small and sodden, its ginger fur matted and soaked, stained dark red in ugly, jagged streaks. The tiny form mangled, limbs twisted horribly, torn and—
Oh, Jesus Christ.
Buster.
Sweet, friendly Buster, who’d rubbed against my legs, who’d curled by the fire, purring in contentment. Buster, who’d snuggled against Alex’s chest, making him smile.
I choked, staggering back, knees threatening to buckle beneath me.
“No, oh fuck, no—” I couldn’t look away, even as my stomach heaved and I pressed a hand to my mouth to hold back the sickness.
Buster’s head was gone. Just… gone. And his legs—oh God, his legs—were bent at impossible angles, his paws clawing at nothing.
“No, no, no…” My hands hovered over him, trembling, unsure whether to touch him or pull away.
This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening.
I retched violently, my body convulsing, my empty stomach heaving painfully, again and again.
My knees trembled, willpower alone keeping me upright.
I couldn’t leave him there, I couldn’t let sweet little Buster lay on my step like a piece of discarded rubbish…
But the thought of touching him, of my hands coming away covered in blood sent a fresh wave of nausea through me.
The SUV’s engine rumbled from the other side of the road, directly opposite, a low, menacing growl, the headlights off. I whipped my head around, my wet hair plastering to my face.
They wanted me to see this.
They? Not they, but he.
Kelvin.
He had done this. I knew it with every nerve in my body.
He wanted me to see every single piece of cruelty he’d visited upon the friendly, trusting, defenceless cat. Something scorched in my throat, burnt through my chest. Not bile this time, not sickness, but fury.
I lurched towards the SUV, my legs heavy, willing them to carry me. It edged forward, its lights still off, moving just a little too fast for me to catch up. It—he—was taunting me, mocking me. With a sudden burst of speed, and a roar of its engine, the SUV turned the corner and was gone.
That was when I began to shake like I never had before, as the horrifying realisation crept in, sharp and undeniable. Buster’s vicious murder was a message, a foretaste, of what Kelvin could do to me.