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No, this is a new, raw feeling inside her – arealfeeling, and if she doesn’t do something with it, she thinks she might explode. Her nerves are on fire, her heart pounding like a machine gun. None of this is what she wanted – her mother panicking and screaming, the smoke and the stars, or to be wearing these hateful clothes or to be in London in this horrid place where she has already seen things she didn’t even know existed. She doesn’t understand how it all happened – except thathewas a part of it. No, he wasallof it. Jack.
‘He lied to me, didn’t he?’ Belle says through the loud banging that she’s not sure is at the door or in her head or both. She sees her mother standing by the door, brandishing the knife in her shaking hand as the armchair jumps in time with the thumps from the other side, shunting away from the door as Jack shoves and pushes, the other chair with its back wedged under the handle becoming dislodged and falling sideways. Her mum puts her weight against the armchair and somehow, fuelled by this new feeling inside, Belle does the same. She thinks she might throw up.
Suddenly, there’s the loudest crack yet and a wooden panel on the door splinters and a fist comes through. Then again and again as the arm pounds against the wood, smashing it up. Belle hears yelling and anger and rage, which sounds an awful lot like what she has boiling inside her chest. And she wants to use it. She’s had enough. She doesn’t want his lies any more – she knows she saw him with that woman, Luba. She heard with her own ears how he tried to fob her off, tell her she was crazy, that she was being childish. She knows he was making her have sex with strangers for money, that he was turning her into someone else.One of Vaughn’s girls, he’d said.
‘I’m not a little kid!’ Belle screams now at the top of her voice. Not knowing how she does it or who is pulling the strings on her weak limbs, she grabs the rickety chair and hurls it at the broken door. Thick black smoke pours in through the hole, filling her lungs and making her cough uncontrollably, stinging her throat, her eyes, her skin. Her mum is hacking too, telling her to cover her face. She sees Jack standing on the other side of the door, so she hurls the other chair at him, wanting to hit his head but, oh God, all it does is make the hole bigger…and now he’s climbing through it.
The anger inside her doubles and doubles and doubles again, until her entire body is one shaking ball of rage. She throws herself at Jack as he clambers through with one hand covering his face as he tries to escape the smoke. He’s coughing too, and that’s when Belle sees the flames licking up the staircase, hears the roar of the fire as it takes over, reaching up like a monster, consuming the inside of the entire building.
Just as fierce as the heat inside her.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
HANNAH – NOW
‘Belle, cover your face…’ My eyes sting like someone’s thrown acid in them as the smoke billows into the room through the smashed door. In the blackness, I see Darren’s pinched face as he struggles to breathe, battering his way in.
‘Fucking bitch!’ he screams, hacking up his lungs. ‘Gonna kill you both…’
Belle wails as I grab the robe that fell from her shoulders and hold it over her face. Her body is stiff and her face red with rage as she lashes out with the chair, trying to force him back. I’ve never seen her so angry, her long limbs flailing as she fights for our lives.
The knife is in my right fist, my knuckles white from gripping it. I took a chance that it would still be under the floorboards after all this time, but then no one apart from us two ever knew it was there. Our little secret – though I’d never imagined I’d be using it eighteen years later.
‘Get back!’ I scream to Belle as Darren comes closer. He shoves the armchair out of the way as easily as if it’s a piece of foam. Then he charges at us, not knowing which of us to attack first. I drag Belle backwards, urging her to shut herself in the bedroom, but she grabs a piece of the smashed chair and brandishes it in the air, screaming and coughing as she drops the robe from her face.
From the floors below, I hear the sound of breaking glass and screams from the girls – terrified, piercing sounds as I imagine them running out of their rooms only to be met by a column of flames snaking up the stairs and blocking their escape. I have no idea how much of the building is on fire, but judging by the density of the smoke, it’s spread quickly. I only meant for it to be a distraction so I could escape with Belle.
Suddenly, Darren lunges at me but I dart backwards, wielding the knife.
‘Get out!’ I yell at him. ‘Get down the stairs before it’s too late!’
He shoots a look over his shoulder. The landing is lit up and thick with smoke from the flames searing upwards. I pray to God that the rescue services will be fast, that they heard my plea for help.
But Darren ignores me, making a grab for my left arm and swinging me round. At the same moment, Belle brings the chair leg down hard on his back…his shoulder…his head…his neck. Over and over again, she batters him. When he spins round to retaliate, lunging at her instead of me, I take my chance and slash wildly through the air with the knife, cutting into his arm.
Darren yelps, bending double and hacking out a cough as he clutches his arm, blood seeping through his shirt and between his fingers. He peers up at me, his eyes narrow and filled with hate, set like slits in his soot-smudged face. Something surges within him, and he hurls himself in my direction again, driven by pain and anger. I leap to my left, making sure I’m in between him and Belle, jabbing out with the blade every time he gets close. It’s a dance of revenge – a long-overdue performance.
‘You bitch…fucking cheap whore…’ Darren spits out, his words getting lost in the thick smoke. He glances down at his wound.
‘Belle, try to get down the stairs!’ I cry out, in the hope it’s not too late for her. But she stays put, taking another swipe at Darren with the chair leg.
‘I hate you, I hate you, Ihateyou!’ she screams. ‘You’re…lying…scum…’ Each word is punctuated by the thud of wood on his skull. Whatever drug she’s taken seems to be wearing off and anger has taken its place. As Darren reels from her blows, not knowing which of us to defend himself from, I take another swipe at him with the knife, only intending to slow him down, to distract him.
But just at that moment, he hurls himself forward.
The knife slides into him.
At first, I’m too stunned to realise what has happened.
Everything is still.
Darren is motionless – there’s a snapshot of the agony on his face, his mouth gaping, his eyes locked onto mine through the smoke as he’s bent forward, arms raised, legs apart. I can’t hear the screaming or the roar of the fire raging below us any more, as though all my senses have stopped working.
Then, as the world reanimates, instead of pulling out the knife or stopping it going deeper into his abdomen, I shove it in further. Twisting it as I press the weight of my entire body against it, forcing the blade fully inside him. Releasing everything knotted up inside me.
Darren drops to his knees.
Belle pounds his head over and over with the wood.
