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I begin to feel my chest tighten, and my breathing becomes choppy. I’m aware it’s happening, and I put my forefinger to my thumb and start to rub, applying pressure as I do.
After Jamie rescued me from the pervy tramp that day, she convinced me to see a counsellor about my anxiety and panic attacks. Whilst I was sceptical at first, I can’t be too mad now, she taught me some techniques to stave them off before they take complete control. I continue with my finger hold and take some slow, deep breathes until I start to relax.
“Urgh, my mouth tastes like a whore’s arsehole,” Jamie mutters, as she sits up, “That image just had my stomach turning over. Ooh, your book came, yay!” She picks it up off the table, turning to read the back. I just sit there in utter shock, not knowing how I feel about that. I can hear Jamie talking, but it sounds fuzzy, like I’m under water. I really thought he’d found me, and I’d have to run again. I don’t want to run. I like it here, and I’m finally living like a normal 26-year-old should. Not in fear, not worried about when the next punch is going to come, or when I’ll have to give my body to someone who doesn’t cherish it but takes what they want, abuses it, sees it as a piece of meat. The fear from earlier has gone and been replaced by anger. An anger that I’ve not felt in a long time.
“Cam, did you hear me?” I look at Jamie, the smile on her face drops away and worry creeps in. “What’s the matter, don’t you like it? You said it was one of your favourites, and I wanted to get you something to congratulate you on your new job.” She seems unsure, and I hate myself for making her feel that way. So, I suck it up, put my big girl pants on and plaster a smile on my face, hoping she doesn’t see right through my fake arse happiness.
“I love it, thank you. I can’t believe you did that.” I smile wide, even though I actually can’t believe she did that, but I know it’s not her fault, she doesn’t understand. How could she possibly understand when I’ve kept everything from her. It’s been nice to pretend that none of it happened, but that’s not realistic. This incident has made me realise that if I ever want to have a shot at a normal life then I need to trust a little more and expel some of this baggage that’s weighing me down. I dive out of my seat and hug Jamie. Hugging her tight and hoping she gets it. When I pull back with tears in my eyes, I take a deep breath.
“I think it’s time I tell you my story.”
“Well shit!That’s one hell of a story, Cam.” She’s sitting at the other end of the sofa from me, and I can see the many questions running through her mind.
“Yeah, it is,” I say, and although I haven’t told her everything, I’ve told her enough without, at least I hope, putting her life in any danger. Looking to change the subject, I ask her if she fancies coming into town as there’s a few bits I need for work, plus I need the fresh air after that conversation.
When we get back from town, Jamie goes off to cook dinner. She decided that we needed some meat and veg. Take that however you like, I know I’m not getting any, and I don’t think she is either.
I head to my room to put away the new clothes I purchased, well, Jamie purchased if I’m honest. Once I get paid, I intend on paying her back, for everything.
I start hanging the clothes when I spot my duffel bag in the bottom of the wardrobe. I pull it out, opening it, not sure what I’m hoping to find as I haven’t looked at this bag since I first moved in with Jamie. I’m not surprised to find it empty as there was never much of value in there anyway. I go to drop it back in the wardrobe when I feel something heavy in a side pocket. I put my hand in and wrap it round…oh my god! I pull out the phone Tyler gave me before I left. I’d forgotten it was even in there.
Plopping to the floor with it in my hands, I just sit and stare at it. Several minutes pass and although I doubt it will work, I push the ‘on’ button, so I’m surprised when the start-up screen lights up. As it loads, several message alerts ping across the screen that have my heart rate rising and dread falling in the pit of my stomach.
There was only one number saved in the phone and just one person who had this number, but a couple of these messages appear to be from a different number. With shaky hands and fear wrapping round me like a snake round its prey, I click on the first message.
UNKNOWN: Kasey, please come home. I need you. I’m not mad, just come home and we can work it out.
I flick through a few more, all similar to the first one, but as I get to the most recent ones the tone changes. This is the man I know, and dare I say, once loved.
UNKNOWN: You little fucking bitch! I will find you and, baby, when I do, I’m going to make you hurt so bad.
UNKNOWN: You have blood on your hands too now. He screamed like the little pussy he was. I’m coming for you next, baby, and it’s gonna be so fucking pretty watching your blood run. It’s making me hard just thinking about it.
There’s a link with this message, and when it opens, I watch in horror as Tyler comes in to view.Oh my god. What did I do?
Tyler is strung up, arms above his head, but his head is dropped to his chest, so I can’t see his face. But I can see the blood that runs down his body in rivulets and pools on the floor below him. I can’t seehimfrom this angle, but I can see as he swipes out with a switchblade, slashing into Tyler’s skin. I drop the phone, running to the bathroom and dropping to the floor then heaving into the toilet. Sweat forms on my neck and forehead as I slump back and lean on the bath panel. I grab some tissue, wiping my mouth and closing my eyes as I try to rid my mind of the image of Tyler, but I can’t. It will be forever etched into my brain, alongside the pictures of the two people who were most precious to me that he felt necessary to show me; to torture me with as though he hadn’t done that enough. The man knows no bounds.
I feel sick to my stomach, and acid still burns in my throat at the thought of Tyler suffering. He didn’t deserve to die and certainly not for helping me, but I refuse to let his death be in vain. And I refuse to allowhimto play the guilt trip on me. I can feel tears well in my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. He doesn’t deserve any more of my pain or sorrow.
I crawl back to the wardrobe and pick the phone up. I see another message from a different number, and while I’m conscious that it’s possible my phone is being tracked, I get the feeling this message is important.
UNKNOWN: Camryn, it’s Rick. I know when you left that you had no intention of contacting me, and I totally understand that. However, things have become a little complicated. I know you’re probably wondering how I got this number; Tyler gave it to me. He knew things were going pear shaped and gave this to me to ensure your safety. I need you to contact me asap, but don’t use this phone. Once you’ve read this message you need to get rid of the phone. Here’s my number, 0784 619 7721, it’s secure.
I scramble to my feet, going to my desk and grabbing a pen then quickly writing the number down on a scrap of paper. I double check it before shutting the phone off, putting it on the floor and go to stamp on it, but at the last second, I stop. I know Rick said to get rid of it, but it has evidence on it.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on or who Rick is, but I have to believe that if Tyler trusted him then maybe I should too.
From what I know, if a phone is off then it can’t be traced, and though there may be ways to get round that, it’s been in my bag for over 6 months and so far, I’m safe. He obviously has the number but not where I am. Yet. I take that thought and lock it up tight and pray it stays that way. I put the phone in my desk drawer, and then sit and think about my next move.
Four
Blue
Three months ago
“Have you heard from her?” I take a seat at the dining table, grabbing the coffee pot. I turn my nose up as I bring the cup to my mouth. Rick and his fancy arse coffee. I’d much rather have a cup of tea than this sludge.
“No, nothing. Do we still have eyes on her?” Rick asks, and I see the worry in his eyes. He feels bad for letting her walk away, for not trying harder to get her talking. I understand how he feels.
