Night Terrors Read Free Page B

problems. The hold that Dean Salib had placed on me to ostensibly keep me safe was supposed to have gone.
    I curl my fingers into the palms of my hands and feel the sharp pain of my nails digging into my flesh. A single tear rolls down my cheek. It’s not fucking fair.
    When we get back to the familiar street and my house, I almost fall out of the taxi door. The driver helps me stagger up the pathway. I keep my eyes trained on the ground. The concrete slabs are all as they were. The crack in the fifth one still looks like a deformed bolt of lightning. There’s moss edging round the seventh one, reminding me I should do some gardening. I focus on shallow breaths and gulp in as much air as I can.
    I fumble into my pocket and pull out my purse, giving him a large tip. He shakes his head. ‘It’s too much.’
    ‘Please.’ My eyes implore him. I’ve already messed up once today. For some reason, giving him more than necessary will assuage my feelings of helplessness.
    He pats me on the shoulder and I flinch. He almost looks sorrier than I feel. ‘You’ll be alright,’ he assures me.
    Misery shudders through me. Alright: maybe that’s something I’ll never be.
    Once he’s driven off, I search for my keys, eventually dragging them out of the zipped purse compartment. I have to compose myself because my hands are shaking too much for the key to fit in the lock. I fall in through the door, my knees buckling underneath me. When I hear the murmur of voices and a bark of loud laughter, I’m almost completely undone. The fear is paralysing.
    ‘Is that John?’ I stare up from the very spot where Dean Salib breathed his last as my mother waltzes in from the kitchen and stares at me. ‘Zoe? What on earth’s wrong?’ She rushes towards me.
    There’s more laughter. Blood rushes in my ears. I look past her with dread to the kitchen. I don’t know what I’m expecting: an axe-wielding murderer, a scarily dressed clown, someone from the Department, even the dead Mayor... My mother’s eyes follow my gaze and she slumps in a mixture of pity and sympathy as she recognizes my expression. ‘Oh, Zoe. Not again.’
    ‘Who?’ I gasp. ‘Who is there?’
    She places a cool hand on my forehead, just like she used to do when I was a child and I was ill. ‘I’m sorry.’ She sounds like she really is. ‘I thought our bridge group could do with a change of venue. With you away…’ She swallows. ‘It was wrong of me.’
    ‘Upstairs. I need to get upstairs.’
    She bites her lip and nods. ‘I’ll get rid of them.’
    I slump into my bedroom, throw open my wardrobe door and curl up in the bottom in the tightest ball I can possibly manage. It’s dark and safe and solid.  I close my eyes and block out the world.  No-one is going to hurt me.  I’m not in any danger.  I repeat the words over and over again in my head like a Buddhist mantra.
    I don’t know how much time passes before the phone starts to ring. It sounds like it’s very far away.  I have no intention of answering it.  I’m not given much of a choice though. There’s a gentle knock on the wardrobe door. ‘Zoe? It’s for you.’
    I push open the door, ignoring the creak, and take the phone from my mother and doing my best to ignore her anxious expression. I stare at the mobile dully. I was really proud when I bought it. When I was trapped inside the house I didn’t need a mobile phone, so acquiring one because I might actually need it had filled me with delight. Now it just seems like another link to the big bad world outside that I could do without.
    My mother wrings her hands. ‘Should I call the doctor?’
    I shake my head mutely. Her face remains pale and worried. I try to smile but it doesn’t work so instead I just hold the phone to my ear.
    ‘Zoe? Are you almost here? Check-in will be closing in five minutes so you’d better tell your taxi to put the pedal to the metal.’
    I lick my lips. ‘I’m not coming,’ I