Come A Little Closer by Rachel Abbott

Author:Rachel Abbott [Abbott, Rachel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Dot Publishing Ltd
Published: 2018-02-14T22:00:00+00:00

34

For a moment, as I struggle my way out of a deep sleep, I wonder where I am. I remember nothing, but as my eyes flutter open and I see the stark, bare walls of the room in which I am lying, I am assaulted by flashes of memory, none of which make sense.

I have no time to think though, because someone is sitting on the end of the bed, someone I’ve never seen before.

I sit up too quickly, and for a moment the room spins as I push myself back as far as I can against the wall to get away from the dark silhouette. The memories begin to solidify and I want to scream that it can’t be true. Have I dreamed the whole thing, or am I really hiding in Thea’s cellar because I killed Ian? I groan out loud and lift my hands to cover my face. I want to cry, to beg someone to believe that I can’t have murdered him. Whatever they think, it wasn’t me.

But I had the hammer, the blood, the anger.

I want to return to who I was before, when I still believed I had a chance at a normal life.

The person on the end of the bed watches me quietly, saying nothing. I can see now that it’s a woman, but I don’t know who she is or why she is here. Does she know what I’ve done?

I hardly remember how I got to this room. I have no more than a vague sense of Thea guiding me and helping me walk down some stairs; the feel of her hand gripping my arm harder than was necessary; a snapshot of a single light bulb casting a dull, yellow glow. It seems like it was hours ago, but I don’t know whether it is day or night because the room has no windows.

‘Drink this,’ the young woman perched on the edge of my bed finally says as she holds out a cup. My vision seems to have recovered a little, but there isn’t much light. All I can make out is a slight figure with tied-back dark hair and the biggest pair of brown eyes I have ever seen.

I look at the cup she is thrusting towards me and shake my head frantically. ‘I don’t want it. I think I’m going to be sick.’ My throat is dry and my voice croaky, as if I’ve been crying.

‘You have to drink it. Thea will blame me if you don’t.’

‘Who are you? What are you doing here?’

She says nothing, and pushes the cup a little closer.

‘Give it to me, then. I’ll tip it down the toilet,’ I say, although I have no idea where the toilet is.

The woman’s eyes grow even larger at what I have said. ‘She’ll know,’ she says, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. She glances over her shoulder as if Thea is going to materialise through the gloom.

My head is aching and I feel vaguely as if I have a hangover, but I only had a single glass of wine with the soup that Thea brought me.

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