AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He opens the bottle and puts it to his lips, downing a long swig.
“I’m going to London in the morning,” he replies. “It’s an early start. I’ll sleep in the spare room so I don’t wake you.” He pauses. “I’ll set up an appointment with Dr. Crawford.”
Without another word, he turns and goes into the living room. She can’t stand the thought of another insufferable hour with Dr. Crawford, a woman who doesn’t care or understand. She asks Jess questions she can’t answer. “What makes you want to hurt yourself? What do you think will happen if you continue to be this self-destructive?” Jess recognizes the threat implicit in the seemingly innocent question.
She hears the television turn on and the sound of football. Patrick knows she hates football. He’s telling her: Stay away. I don’t want to be near you right now.
She doesn’t blame him. She doesn’t want to be near herself right now, either.
* * *
She goes to bed. She watches television in their bedroom, some true-crime documentary, but the overblown drama doesn’t provide the distraction from her own life that she hoped it would. After a while she hears Patrick clean his teeth, then close the door to the front bedroom. She wonders if she should go and say goodnight, apologize again, then decides against it. An apology means “Sorry, and I’ll try not to do it again.” Useless words, when she knows they’re not true.
She turns the television off, plunging the room into darkness.
She lies in the black, counting slowly as she breathes in and out. Her daughter is silent next door, and she can’t hear any movement from Patrick in the spare bedroom. Slowly she drops off to sleep.
* * *
As night takes over, a hand slowly pushes the mail slot open. Liquid is poured through the door into the hallway; it runs across the tiles, soaking the mat. Then something else follows: a lit match.
It falls to the floor, and with a whoosh the fire ignites.
Hampshire Chronicle
July 15, 1994
ANIMAL KILLER STILL AT LARGE—12 CATS KNIFED
A sadistic pet killer is on the rampage, estimated to have killed eight cats and injured a further four in the last two months. Other animals may have also been targeted, the RSPCA claim, citing two dogs and four rabbits that have gone missing in the same time period.
Mother of two, Michelle Smith, says her kids are “traumatized” after they returned home on Friday to find their pet cat, Stimpy, dead and disemboweled on their front porch. Anonymous sources from the police have also shared instances where pets have been found skinned, possibly while they were alive, although this has yet to be confirmed.
The RSPCA and Hampshire Constabulary are working together to find the killer, and ask any members of the public noticing suspicious behavior to call 101.
They advise any pet owners in the area to keep all animals indoors until the offender has been apprehended.
CHAPTER
2
THE GLASS GLOWS red and orange, flames lighting up the windows, turning the inside to black. Smoke claws up the walls, gray fingers reaching skyward.
With an almost silent surge across the carpet, the fire grasps at curtains, furniture—anything in its wake. Glass cracks with the heat, dark wisps creep up the stairs, skulking under doors.
It steals into her nose. The coughing wakes her, the lack of oxygen forcing her to take sharp breaths. Jess opens her eyes. It is nearly pitch black, but she can see a fog lurking at the edges of the ceiling. It hovers, a malingering specter, thick and intimidating. She coughs again, feeling her lungs starting to clog.
Suddenly, through her daze, her consciousness clicks into action. She jumps out of bed, dressed only in her oversized T-shirt, and goes to the door. The handle is cold, and she slowly opens it into the hallway.
The entire first-floor landing is filled with smoke. Instinctively, she drops to her knees, her heart racing as she crawls across the carpet. She glances down the stairs, recoiling from what she sees.
The front door is obscured; the whole of the hallway is filled with flames. A lake of fire licks at the edge of the stairwell. The crackling terrifies her, eclipsing every other sound. And then she realizes. The smoke alarms. She looks upward through the gray, staring at the redundant white discs on the ceiling. Why aren’t they going off? Why haven’t they woken Patrick or Alice?
The thought of her family boosts her into action. She screams her husband’s name over and over, choking, coughing, as she crawls across the hallway floor, feeling the heat of the flames behind her. She pulls the door open to her daughter’s room, rushing over and trying to shake Alice awake. The smoke is thicker in here, almost filling the room to the floor. She knows they don’t have much time. But Alice doesn’t move, her eyes staying closed, her breathing labored.
The porch is below the window in the spare bedroom, where Patrick is sleeping. She looks back, praying her husband has already made his escape. There is no way they can get there. The hallway floor is now a blanket of flames, red and yellow arching to the ceiling. She can feel the heat, the carpet starting to melt under her knees.
Jess kicks the door closed, frantically trying to think of an alternative way out as she pulls her unconscious daughter into her arms. She drops as low as she can to the floor and edges to the window.
