‘This needs to stop, Rebecca. All of this. Whatever the fuck is going on inside your head. Either you were attacked today, or someone ran past you in the park and you fell? You’d know the difference because it’s a big one! So, which one was it?’ Jamie roared, giving her one last chance to redeem herself.
Only Rebecca couldn’t. Instead she stood there snivelling, as she tried to stifle her cries. Wanting to confront Jamie about calling Jenna’s name out while they’d been having sex, only she was too scared that once she’d said it, Jamie would have no choice but to confess. And there would be no going back after that.
‘This all needs to stop, Rebecca. You need to stop acting crazy. If anything, you’re the one that’s going to do that child harm if you keep playing these stupid bloody games,’ Jamie said, the anger pouring out of him now, unchecked. ‘I’m going back to the office.’ He shrugged Rebecca’s placatory hand off his arm before storming out of the house.
Rebecca stood watching from the window as Jamie got back into his car and frantically drove off. Convinced now that she’d ruined everything by bringing up her fears about Jenna.
He was probably going back to his office now to tell Jenna everything. Back to his sexy little PA instead of staying here with his pathetic, crazy wife.
Scanning the road once more, she shivered, it was getting dark now. The winter nights drawing in earlier. Making it harder for her to see the entire street clearly. She was convinced that she could still feel someone out there, watching her, even though she couldn’t see anyone at all.
Then going to the front door and pulling the latch across, she bolted the door.
Pressing herself up against it, she closed her eyes.
What if Jamie was right? What if this was all her, acting crazy?
But it had felt so real. Despite how scared she’d felt, there was no way she’d let Jamie call the police.
They were the last people she wanted to get involved; people in authority, interfering and snooping around in their lives. Because it would only be a matter of time before they started asking other questions. Questions Rebecca didn’t want to have to answer.
Chapter Twelve
It’s exhilarating, you know, to take someone to the point of losing their mind. There’s an unexpected satisfaction I didn’t expect to feel when I first started this.
Making you feel as though you’re being watched, but you never really see anyone there.
Thinking you’re being followed, only you can’t be so sure.
The triumph is very gratifying, but a part of me is so disappointed you’re making this easy for me.
It’s almost effortless, because you have given me the power to use your reality against you, Rebecca.
Because deep down, no matter how much of an act you like to put on, you are WEAK.
I see you. The person you try so hard to hide from others.
I watch you all the time.
When you’re with others, when you’re all alone. Especially when you’re all alone.
I can see you now. And you have no idea that I’m here. Watching you through the web cam on your laptop as you hide away in the office, searching for some answers.
Only you’re searching in all the wrong places, Rebecca.
Trawling the websites for information on post-natal depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. It’s almost laughable, how quickly you’ve succumbed to it all.
Because part of you wants to believe it, doesn’t it, Rebecca? Part of you wants to think that you are sick. Because what would the alternative be? Having to face the truth. Having to admit that I’m real. That I am here, watching you.
Can you feel me, Rebecca? I whisper as you lean in closer towards the computer screen. Your eyes staring down the lens at me.
I think you can.
I think you can sense my presence.
I can see the frustration pouring out of you as you narrow your eyes, the beginnings of a deep crevice directly above your nose. As you tuck a loose strand of your greasy hair behind your right ear.
Today, you look older than your twenty-eight years. Devoid of all make-up, your skin is blotchy and peppered with breakouts from the lack of sleep and the stress you’ve endured recently, no doubt.
You look haggard and worn out and I won’t lie, it’s not a good look for you, Rebecca. Not a good look at all.
Like an out of shape jumper, familiarity brings comfort, but it’s not fit for purpose anymore. Except perhaps for the bin.
You yawn.
Are you tired, Rebecca? Have you been taking your medication like a good girl? All those pills that your doctor prescribed you to stop you from losing your mind?
Your gaze is shifting now. Your eyes, puffy and swollen. The sparkle that used to shine there has long gone.
A noise from somewhere else in the house makes you jump. And I watch you freeze like a rabbit caught in the headlights, startling at every tiny sound you hear.
Are you expecting someone, Rebecca?
I laugh, despite my dark mood.
Slowly, painfully, you’re finally piecing it all together.
You’re crumbling before my very eyes.
It’s such a slow, gradual unravelling.
I wonder how quickly it will take you to work it all out.
Chapter Thirteen
I can hear a voice way off in the distance.
Only I can’t see where it’s coming from. I can’t see anything.
It’s so damn dark and I’m trapped, suspended upside down in the seat of the car.
My instincts tell me that I need to get out. Only, as I reach to unclip my seat belt, it won’t budge, my body weight restricting the flex. So I push my hands onto the upturned ceiling for leverage and force myself up with every bit of strength I can summon. Easing my weight against the cushion of the chair until I hear the click.
Then I fall. Slamming down into the small battered space beneath me. My hands pierced by shards of broken glass.
Do not look behind you, I instruct myself as I desperately try to get out.
My hand clawing at the handle, but the door is stuck.
Do not dare look behind you.
Twisting my body, I kick at the window next to me with both feet, frantic now.
I’m going to die here. Trapped inside this mangled metal coffin.
And I don’t stop kicking until I hear the smash of glass and feel the icy rush of cold air on my skin.