Payback by Gemma Rogers

Author:Gemma Rogers [Rogers, Gemma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Boldwood Books
Published: 2020-01-08T16:00:00+00:00

25

October 2018

It was going to be like ripping a plaster off. I was going to lift the lid fast and get it over and done with. I hesitated, chewing my thumbnail which had started to become gnarly. I could throw the box back outside, let the dustmen take it, but I knew that wasn’t an option.

I grabbed the top on either side and lifted it in one swift movement. I saw something black and circular move and I jumped halfway across the kitchen. Floating out of the box, to the ceiling, was a black balloon with white string, spinning of its own accord. My heart raced as I peered into the box to check if there was anything else, but it was empty. I sat looking up at the balloon until the message on the front gradually came into view. SLUT in large white capital letters, written in what looked to be Tipp-Ex.

‘Nice,’ I said, grimacing and pulling on the string to take a closer look. I snapped a photo and sent it to James, with the caption ‘You shouldn’t have’. Hopefully he would see the funny side. I didn’t much like balloons, they seemed to wander around without purpose, moving for no apparent reason. I had to admit they kind of freaked me out, but I wasn’t sure if anyone knew that. The message on the front was the point and I guessed it alluded to my being the organiser of that night.

It didn’t seem like whoever was doing this was going away, but at the same time I wasn’t sure it was serious enough to go to the police. I felt threatened and a little scared if I was honest, but I didn’t want them to think I was just another neurotic woman, living alone and afraid of her shadow. Other than the rat, there hadn’t been anything meant to cause harm to me or the business. Could I be one hundred per cent positive someone had been inside the flat? I mean, I thought they had, with the cross on the photo, and the door being left open, but I couldn’t prove it. Mainly, the contact seemed almost childlike, angry yes, malicious even, but I didn’t believe I was in any physical danger. It felt like I was the victim of some kind of hate campaign and just had to ride it out.

James pinged back with a ‘WTF’ followed by a line of exclamation marks before calling to find out what happened. As I told him about my ‘gift’, I grabbed a small knife from the stand and pricked a hole in the balloon, hearing it wheeze as it deflated. It sat, sad and wrinkled, on the table. It least now it would fit into the bin.

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