CHAPTER 43
Stalker
I keep my shoulders square and my head held high because I won’t let you destroy this moment for me. I won’t let you take it away from me.
You were never the one I wanted.
I shake Father’s voice away, the edges of the room blurring as I do.
He said that to me often enough after Robbie died, until he came to accept that maybe I could be of use.
Moulded into something better. I do know he’s not here, you know that, Ella.
But I need something to guide me. I roll my neck, listening to the sound of Benji padding up the stairs. He’s milked it since we got here.
“Everything OK?” I say, but we already know the answer. He has a camera attached to him.
“She’s fine.” He returns to the kitchen, locking the door. I had it custom made, the door. To make it look like you killed your friend and went a little loopy in the process.
It’s pretty cool.
I sigh. “I know that.” I indicate the device around his neck. He nods, trudging over to the sink.
“Oh, cheer up. You heard her, she’s still lying.
” I say. I redecorated this house myself.
I went for a more vintage feel, so that when you are found dead in the kitchen, an overdose, you’ll look like a weirdo who was clinging to the past. I even got the same tiles I had in my house, or close enough.
“I don’t know, maybe she’s telling the truth. I’ve seen a lot of liars in my time,” Benji mutters.
I close my eyes. Not this again. Benji will take any opportunity to tell you about the time he worked in a prison. He saved a lot of bad eggs, apparently.
My fists clench.
“No, she’s lying. You don’t go into a house alive and come out dead without something bad happening,” I say.
Or maybe, some people do. Nate does, at least.
Benji whirls around. “Don’t you think this has gone a bit far? Jude–”
I’m on my feet, my body against his. There’s a slight tremble that causes the cup to slip from his wet hands and land on the floor with a smash.
“Jude knew what she was doing.” I don’t push him. I don’t hit him. But he knows there is a power behind my words. I’ve been drugging him for months now, you see. He is considerably bigger than me, but he’s not smarter.
“I–I don’t think I want to do this anymore.” It would be fair to describe him as whimpering now.
My hands release his shirt
“I’m sorry, what?” I take a step back.
No, not like this.
The spit hits the floor before Benji even realises it’s coming from his mouth. My fingers sting from the contact with his skin. He draws a hand to his face.
“Immi,” he breathes but I’m off, striding into the living room. I don’t need this, not now. Not so close to the end. He was by my side the whole time. Through university and moving to Shearwood. And now look at what you’ve done. I pace the living room. It’s poky but cold and it soothes me.
“Sorry, I just… I’m so sorry, Immi.” His voice carries down the corridor, desperate and clawing. You sound like that when you beg, Ella. Well, you used to sound like that. But sometimes you sound smug and self-righteous and annoying.
She hasn’t admitted anything.
Yeah, I know that.
She didn’t tell you what they did to him.
But you did say sorry, you did apologise. In a way, it wasn’t satisfying, but it happened. And Jude was an accident that I regret. I was angry and I wanted to make a point. I planned for her to die quickly.
You can’t forget what we started.
Stop! Stop talking. These voices in my head have no right to be here, no rationality in this place.
“What?” Benji appears in the doorway, his hands dry with a tea towel hanging from them.
Confusion draws across his face. I stumble back, searching for the cool touch of the far wall.
The edges of the room are blurring, but I know that can’t be real.
I rub my eyes and draw in a breath. Focus, I need to focus. I’m tired.
But he keeps talking. “I know you’re still angry, and you need justice, but maybe we should call the police about Jude.”
My eyes shoot up.
You.
You do this. You worm your way in. My vision swims. I just want this to end.
“I could say it was a burglary gone wrong. We could pay off Ella to stay quiet and then just go. You and me.” He’s lying, there’s sweat on his brow and fear in his eyes.
I blink, because this can’t be the man I once loved.
“And how do we explain the body chained to the wall in the basement? What do you think the police will say to that, eh? Maybe they’ll believe Jude was the burglar all along and we just tied her up for them?
We could leave a note that says: got her for you.
” I shake my head in mockery. “You really are that stupid. Or, oh, she got to you, didn’t she? ”
“No, I just want this to end. For this to end for you.” Benji steps back, but he’s weakened. You weakened him.
I blink at a memory of when I was younger.
It was just me and Robbie’s mum and dad in the house by then, and every night felt scary.
The darkness was too loud, and the walls too restrictive.
I’d climb out of the window, letting my legs hang over the small ledge and balance on as much of the frame as I could.
I didn’t care if I fell. It wouldn’t have killed me; I know that now.
And I wasn’t desperate to die. The cold night made my cheeks warm, and I’d sit there in the darkness and cry.
Cry because my brother was gone, cry because I was alone again, cry for the anger that laced around the corners of the house and cry because these people were never my family to begin with.
You see, Robbie wasn’t my brother, not by birth.
When mum suddenly died it was my uncle and his wife who took me in.
They had one son but room to spare. I loved it.
I got a new family and became an older sister overnight.
I suppose that’s how it happens for everyone, but this felt magical.
As though the world made it happen for me.
But just as it came, it went, and I became the reminder of what they lost.
“I know that, baby.” Benji’s pitying voice pulls me from the memory. Something flicks across his face. I clasp my hand to my mouth, unaware I spoke at all.
This isn’t how it should be going. This wasn’t the plan.
When I snuck down to you last night, you gave me some sob story about Henry.
“Henry made it sound like it would be a fight, a way to stop your brother from going to the police about us. He – we were in love, or at least I was. And I was desperate to have Henry, regardless of the age gap. I didn’t know, back then, how right your brother was.” You made it sound so convincing.
Your words were near perfect: “Nate, my brother, was angry at Henry. We’d been at his house all afternoon, and I was drunk.
In hindsight, it made me easier to persuade, but back then, it was all good fun.
Nate had begged Henry to stop, and I got so angry at him.
All I could see was my big brother taking away the man I loved,” you scoffed, shaking those thick curls. “It wasn’t love, was it?
“Henry brought a knife. Before we knew what had happened, he was fighting Robbie, who was drunk and couldn’t fight back.
It was so fast. Nate tried to help, but he got stabbed.
And I… I ran. I ran for help or I ran away, I don’t know.
But Henry tackled me, knocked me out. When I came to…
Robbie was. I should have seen it coming.
I should have seen what Henry was like. Then he’d be here and so would Nate. ”
You flashed those big brown eyes and begged me to play along.
But you were lying. You lied to me.
This will end with you dead, Ella. Because you never tell me the truth.
I’m brought back to the living room with Benji’s gentle touch, his hands soft on my cheek. He looks at me as though he might save me.
And I can’t help but laugh.
“Let’s end this now,” he says and I nod. But we both hear the shake in his voice.
Yes. Let’s.
My hands are tight around his neck, and it takes all my weight to push him. His limbs are loose, and he falls back. There’s a sound somewhere in the distance that reminds me of a wounded dog. Something breaks, the sound of glass.
“Immi,” he says, but the knife is on him. It’s still covered in Jude’s blood, but what does that matter now?
“Please.”
Benji sounds just like you, Ella.
I punch again, the blade glinting in my other hand.
“She killed someone. She killed someone,” I say, because I have to hear it. I have to know that it’s not just me going mad. Everyone is missing the point.
I punch again, my arms moving so fast that I’m not sure I’m in control of them. Benji stumbles back but catches himself, his eyes watering.
“Immi, darling,” he begs.
“Don’t!” My voice is somewhere else, because of you. You made me into this.
I lurch forward, the knife sliding into him with ease. There’s a sound but I can’t tell who it comes from. Blood streaks on my jeans and dirt under my fingernails. The memory of my dad’s voice still rings loud and aggressive in my ears.
Are you happy now, Ella?
“Imogen–”
“Shut up!” The words roar from me. This isn’t going to work. From the day you arrived in our community, I had a plan. I had a plan. I waited, and I was patient. And I fell in love, and I was happy, and I started to soften. Then slowly, God, so slowly, you came in and ate it all up.
You.
Now, Robbie is gone and everything is falling apart again.
I have to end you.