Delete-Man: A Psychological Thriller Read Free Page A

stroke at her hair.
    “Do you remember when we saw
that show, and we talked about why animals eat each other?”
    “Don’t change the subject!”
    “God, you’re not gonna make this
easy are you? Look, Vicky. I’ll tell you, cause you’re a smart
girl, but you’re not gonna understand until you’re much older, ok?
So don’t try to think about it too much.”
    “Yeah. Ok.”
    I breathed deeply.
    “Josie…is not gonna come back.
She’s dead, Vee.”
    After a second’s thought, Vicky
jumped from my lap to look me in the eye, a smile on her face.
    “Liar! Tell me!”
    She thought I was joking, and
searched me again with those twitching eyes for the punchline, but
it wasn’t there. Her playful smile and twinkling face fell apart.
In its place came a sob of such helplessness I grabbed her
immediately and held her tight, before the thought of fighting back
the tears even entered her mind. She muffled her cries against my
chest, her fists clutching at my sides. I squeezed her skinny body,
urging her to pass the sorrow within her onto me.
    We stayed in that awkward
position for what seemed like hours. Vicky fell asleep sobbing, and
I put her to bed before going to bed myself. Soon after, she came
to my room, her face stained with those slow-falling tears that
come from too much crying, and again we clung to each other for
lack of anything else we could do.
    *
    The university’s main building
had always seemed strange to me. It was built like a prison block,
a looming construction of red brick lined with heavy grey cement in
austere arrangements. It was set in the middle of the city, amidst
the glass and metal of banks and financial centres. The students
that roamed the surrounding streets stood out like a different
species amongst the tied and suited businessmen that paced down
busy pavements.
    Reading Josephine’s story again,
I was reminded of her writing group. She had mentioned it to me a
few times, how it stimulated her, and the various members that
joined and left. I recalled her talking about one member in
particular, a Brazilian film student that Josephine had met, been
impressed by, and built up a strong friendship with—all within the
past year. I hadn’t met her, and I couldn’t even remember her name,
but I had the impression she was a thoughtful, unique individual
from Josie’s description of her. They had spent a lot of time
together, and I knew they spoke often about writing. Josephine had
talked at length about how interesting her films had been and how
prolific she was with her talent. Now, I was hoping to find her,
and see if she could tell me anything that would justify my doubts
about Josie’s death. Maybe even what it was that Monika had held
back.
    The open area in front of the
university was quieter than the last few times I had been there.
The seeping, damp, coldness of November wasn’t great for outside
congregations. I made my way to the front office and waited
alongside some students until I got the clerk’s attention.
    “Hi there,” he said, finally
looking up from the computer.
    “Hi. I’m looking for some
information about a certain writing group.”
    “Umm, can you be more specific?
We have a lot of groups like that, have you checked the bulletin
board?”
    “No, where is it?”
    “The online one. If you go to
the website and enter your student id you should be able to find
it.”
    “I’m not a student myself. I’m
here for a friend of mine who was in one.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t help you
with that. Sorry.”
    The clerk made to turn away
politely.
    “The thing is, she died
recently. I’m her boyfriend, and I’m here to break the news to one
of her friends.”
    He looked at me, the second time
within forty-eight hours someone had tried to tell if I was
lying.
    “I’m sorry to hear that. Give me
her name and I’ll see if I can find anything out for you.”
    “I don’t have the name of her
friend, that’s what I’m trying to find out. Perhaps if you can