The sudden brightness startling her, she drops the ornament on the kitchen floor, jumping as the china smashes loudly against the tiles, breaking into tiny fragmented pieces.
In the sudden light, she sees that the room is empty. A chair has been pulled out from the table, as if someone had been sitting there but the room is deserted.
In her peripheral vision, she catches a movement at the side of the room, the white fitted blinds dancing rhythmically with the breeze, pushing a cool flurry of air into the room.
The blood inside her veins turns icy cold with fear, as she realises that the patio doors are wide open.
Someone has been here. They were here, in Ella’s room.
She wasn’t imagining anything.
Scrambling across the kitchen and sifting through the drawer beside the sink, she rooted around for something to protect herself with. Picking up the largest knife, her fingers curl around the handle as she holds it out in front of her, willing herself to edge towards the doorway.
She feels suddenly weightless now, so scared of what might be out there that her body feels as if it’s floating. Aware that Ella is alone upstairs without her.
Taking another step towards the open door, she stares out into the darkness. The only noise she can hear is the deafening sound of blood whooshing inside her ears as her eyes try to adjust to the dull stream of light that beams out from the kitchen. Illuminating, ever so slightly, the patio and a few feet of the lawn’s edge.
She gasps as her eyes adjust, and she sees him.
The same dark, shadowy figure she’d seen in Ella’s nursery. He’s real, here’s here. Hiding up against the hedgerow under a cloak of shadows.
The crack of a breaking branch pulls Rebecca from her trance. She realises it’s the sound of twigs snapping beneath footfall. He’s moving. Is he coming towards her? She wonders. No! He’s not. He’s running away?
The knife. She’s still holding the knife, she realises, tightening her grip around the handle, fighting to steady her violently shaking arm through. She can’t just let him leave. Because whoever he is, he’ll be back. And next time Ella might not be safe.
Rebecca finds herself moving on autopilot. It’s fight or flight, and following her instincts, she’s chosen to fight. Before she knows it, her bare feet are padding across the dewy wet grass, towards the back gate, towards him.
Rebecca is vaguely aware that she’s chasing him. It’s become like a fucked-up game of cat and mouse. He’s teased his prey, but now his target is fighting back.
Only the silhouette is moving too fast, and she can’t keep up. He’s too fast. Reaching the back gate in just seconds, the wooden door slams violently behind him and in an instant, he’s gone.
Rebecca knows there’s no way that she can catch him now and screeches as she loses her footing, her ankle giving way beneath her as she stumbles. There’s a twist and the pain is so agonising she crumples like a rag doll into a heap on the grass, landing with her hands splayed out in front of her to break her fall.
But she forgets about the knife still clutched tightly in her shaking fist, and the fall causes the sharp, jagged blade to slice through the flesh of her palm.
She lets forth another loud scream as her gaze moves to the back gate.
Because it’s opening again, and the dark figure is back, striding towards her.
Only she can’t move now, she’s helpless. Broken and bleeding on the floor, she can’t even get up. Her ankle’s too weak for her to stand. So she shouts and screams and prays that someone will hear her. That Lisa might hear her. That someone will come to her aid as she rolls across the grass verge, desperate to get away from the intruder as she army crawls her way back towards the house, her fingers digging into the wet, cold earth, blood seeping down her wrist from the cut.
Despite her fear, she still has the knife in her grasp and knows she will use it if she has to.
And she might have to. Because suddenly he is on her, his hands wrenching her up, dragging her roughly onto her feet.
She hears a voice, the words blurred as she starts to scream, louder this time, wild and ferocious like a wounded animal.
Terrified, her survival instinct kicking in, she lashes out, clawing and biting and hitting out as hard as she can.
Fighting for her life.
For Ella’s life.
But the man is too strong for her, his arms wrapping tightly around her, overpowering her as she struggles to wriggle free.
And for a split second he loses his grip.
It’s enough. She holds up the knife and plunges it towards his chest.
‘Rebecca! REBECCA!’ Broken out of her trance, she looks down, looks clearly at the man for the first time, her eyes fixed on the blood that’s spreading out across his shoulder.
‘Jamie?’ she screams, the pain in her voice evident. As she sees the twisted expression of pain flashing across his face. ‘What have I done? What the hell have I done?’
Chapter Nineteen
‘Blood always makes things look a lot worse than it is,’ the paramedic said, in an attempt to reassure Rebecca, as she sat nervously on her sofa, tugging at the frayed edges of the bandage which had been wrapped around the jagged cut on her hand.
She could see Jamie out of the corner of her eye.
He was angry with her.
He wasn’t voicing it openly, but she could feel it coming off him in waves.
‘Here, you’re in shock. Let’s keep this on for a bit, and keep you warm,’ the paramedic said, placing a blanket around Rebecca’s shoulders to shield her from not only the cold but also the sight of her torn, blood-soaked nightdress.
‘You’ll need to get to A&E after you’ve made your statement,’ the paramedic said then, looking at Jamie, aware of the tension in the room as he stood holding his hand over the bandage wrapped around his shoulder. The wound where Rebecca had nicked him with the knife.
She’d gone for his chest.
In her trance-like state, the attack had been frenzied, but luckily Jamie had acted quickly, twisting his body as the knife came towards him.
And now the house was crawling with paramedics and police officers and Rebecca was terrified that they’re all here. Snooping around and asking her questions. And it’s all her fault.
‘It’s just a flesh wound, but I’d say you’d need a few stitches. You’ve been lucky, really. Both of you.’
‘Lucky isn’t a word I’d use tonight. I’ll go later,’ Jamie said tightly, staring at the lead officer who came into the room, ready to take their statements now that Rebecca had been seen to.
‘But first I’m going to make some tea. Rebecca?’
Rebecca nodded her head, aware how angry he was with her. How exhausted he was from all of this. How exhausted he was of her.
‘Tea, Officer Blythe?’ Jamie asks.
‘No, thank you,’ Officer Blythe declines, taking a seat opposite Rebecca as the paramedics pack up their things and leave them alone.
‘How are you doing, Rebecca?’ Officer Blythe asks, aware that she was still in shock as he took in her ghostly white complexion, the frightened expression on her face still registering the terror of tonight’s ordeal. Her hands, resting in her lap, were visibly shaking.
‘I just want to know who he is? And what he wants? He was in Ella’s nursery. Shit! What if something had happened to her? What if he took her?’ The high-pitched screech in the back of Rebecca’s throat was more of a plea than a statement.