Chapter 11
Sian bit down hard on the rough hand pressed against her mouth. She could taste stale sweat, salt and vinegar as her teeth sank into the calloused flesh. She tasted blood.
‘You stupid bitch,’ a voice rang out sharply in Sian’s ear. His hot breath prickling her skin.
Sian tried to scramble to her feet but stumbled, falling sideways against the van and down to the floor.
A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders, flipped her on to her stomach and pushed her face firmly against the ground, scraping on the concrete.
Sian choked on the pungent scent of engine oil.
Then, she felt something worse than fear as her hands were pulled behind her back and cable ties were zipped tightly around her wrists.
Her hoarse scream muffled by the ground as she felt hands travel down her legs and a second tie was wrapped and tightened around her ankles.
‘Here,’ a second voice said. Softer but commanding.
Sian twisted her head away but was unable to stop the thick tape from being pressed hard against her mouth.
She lay still and prostrate as the man who had restrained her stood up.
She had been so consumed with fear-infused adrenalin that she hadn’t taken in her surroundings.
The naked dim light bulb overhead gave enough light for her to see that she was in someone’s garage.
The muscles in her stomach tightened when she saw the coils of beige rope spilling out of a blue bag.
Sian could hear the sounds of the room and life outside; the dull thrum of a passing car and the slow dripping of water. She could hear the deep breathing of the person who’d gagged and bound her like a wild animal and then there was her heart, beating erratically and fearfully in her chest.
‘Stupid, evil bitch.’
Sian’s eyes widened as a phone was put in her face. The bright light of the flash almost blinding her as she heard the voices say:
‘You’re going to suffer the same way that your victims suffered.’
‘You have no right to redemption. Justice should always be in the hands of the people.’
The kick to her temple was quick and hard. White light of pain obscured her vision as intense pressure and heat built inside her head and bile crept up her throat. Minutes felt like hours as Sian cried, her body withering like a fish out of water, gasping for air.
‘You deserve everything that is going to happen to you,’ the softer voice said. ‘You probably thought you were going to walk away from all the pain you caused and live a great life. That is not going to happen.’
A sharp and bony knee pressed into the bruised and tender flesh of her lower back, which sent an electric shock down her sciatic nerve.
A hand grabbed a clump of her hair and cold metal touched her tender scalp on the crown of her head.
The skin on her face grew taut as the fine hairs of her hairline were ripped out.
Sian’s blood-tinged saliva softened the glue on the tape across her mouth and she released a guttural scream as the sharp blade pierced the thin skin, inched down her scalp and scraped her skull.
Hot spilled blood dampened her hair and ran into her eyes.
‘I don’t feel sorry for her,’ the first voice said followed by the sound of a throat clearing.
Sian cried pitifully as her body grew cold with shock.
She writhed on the floor, turning onto her back, as footsteps approached.
Sian was helpless as a hand grabbed her face, squeezed and turned her head so that her eyes met her punisher.
‘Do you know what this is?’ the man asked, holding a small glass vial in his thick fingers.
Sian could neither shake nor nod her head as the small words on the bottle swam in front of her.
‘You should know what it is. It’s what you gave to your patients. Those poor people who thought you were there to help them.’
For a fleeting moment there was clarity in Sian’s mind as she watched the man place the bottle carefully onto the floor.
‘What is it they say when you go to the hospital for a blood test?’ asked the man. He removed a syringe from his shirt pocket and pulled off the orange safety cap. ‘You’re going to feel a sharp scratch.’
Sian couldn’t move as the needle entered her neck and the cold, poisonous liquid was forced through her skin and absorbed into her bloodstream. She knew what was coming but she wasn’t ready for the violent convulsions as blood continued to fall into her eyes.
‘Not again. How many times do you need to take a bloody piss?’ Eric said to his West Highland terrier when she stopped at the bench and squatted.
‘As long as you’re not taking a shit because I’m out of bags.
’ Fifteen seconds later his dog gave a satisfied yap, and he threw her a treat.
As much as Eric moaned about being the one stuck walking the dog – that his kids had promised to walk – he enjoyed this time of the morning.
He’d left the house at 6.30 a.m. with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, popped in his Airpods, pressed play on his favourite podcast and started his walk along the riverfront.
He watched a flock of seagulls take flight across the sky which was a wash of purples and pinks as the sun slowly ascended.
Eric raised his cup but it never met his lips.
It slipped out of Eric’s hand and landed on the ground, causing the dog to yelp.
Eric stepped closer to the railings to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things.
Eric knew what he should do, but confusion and disbelief had him frozen.
A woman, hanging from the pier, her body twisting slowly in the breeze, as a seagull pecked at her feet.