An Impossible Dilemma: A Psychological Thriller Novel (7 page)

An extreme rush of emptiness gripped my core, followed by an overwhelming urge to pack a bag, bundle Emily into the car and escape this hellhole. But I couldn’t escape it, no matter how far or how fast I ran.

An intense loneliness like nothing I’d ever experienced before engulfed me. I missed Jon with every fibre of my being. I wanted, more than anything, to lock myself in my room, shutting everything and everybody out until I could make some sense of life without him. However, that wasn’t an option. I needed to maintain a front for Emily’s sake. She was all I had right now.

After a few minutes, I reached for the corny paperback I’d been using to switch my brain off all week. The turned down page corner indicated I was more than halfway through, yet I couldn’t remember one word of it.

***

“Shove up fatty, you’re on my side,” Jonathan said, as he climbed in beside me.

“You’re cold.” I rolled across the bed.

“Will you let me warm my feet on you?”

I laughed. “Don’t start that again.” Cold feet at bedtime had started more play fights than I could possibly begin to count.

He pulled me back across the bed to him and we snuggled, my head on his shoulder.

“I’ve missed this,” I buried my face into his chest and inhaled deeply.

“Me too. I told you I’d come back.”

“Come back?” My stomach clenched. “Come back from where?”

“From the other side.”

Realisation dawned, and I sat up with a start. My eyes fixed on the empty mattress beside me.

Where had he gone? He’d been here. Jonathan had just been here; I would stake my life on it.

I touched the mattress; it was still warm.

“Jonathan?” I called in a hushed voice, tinged with hysteria. “Jonathan. Please, come back.”

My pulse thundered in my ears, and as I moved, the paperback slid to the floor making my heart leap once again. I glanced at the clock—almost eleven.

A bang rang out from downstairs, and I shot out of bed.

“Jonathan,” I called again. My rational mind told me Steph must have arrived home, although it was unlike her to go banging and crashing through the house knowing everyone would be sleeping.

I passed Emily’s room and checked on her again. Her soft snores told me she was sound asleep. I closed her door so she wouldn’t be disturbed.

The bang came again, and prickles formed at the nape of my neck, spreading down my spine. The sound of my pulse mixed with the sawing sound of my locket as I pulled it side to side on the chain.

Maybe I had inherited my mother’s gift after all? Jon promised he’d come back for me if he could. I’m sure I hadn’t imagined him in my bed—no dream could be so vivid. But what made him vanish like that? Unless he wanted me downstairs for some reason.

I crept down the stairs, preparing to crap myself if I came face to face with Steph or Frank. They'd probably scream the house down too.

At the bottom of the stairs, I realised that, apart from the hall light I’d left on for Steph, the house stood in darkness. Steph would have turned at least the kitchen light on.

I crept into the kitchen, holding my breath and unsure of what I would find, but certain it wouldn’t be Frank or Steph. I heard the sound again as the back door swung open and banged against the rubbish bin.

How odd. I didn't remember checking the door earlier, but sure I would have noticed it swinging open like this.

I shut the door and locked it with the key, relieved I’d found the cause of the noise.

Suddenly I sensed someone behind me, at the same moment I felt warm breath on the back of my neck.

I shuddered. “I knew you were here,” I said.

Cold hands caressed my shoulders and down my back, sliding under my arms to fondle my small breasts.

The breath hitched in my throat. I was terrified to turn and face him in case he vanished once again.

“Oh Jon,” I whispered.

I slowly turned. My smile froze as I came face to face with Shane Logan.

Chapter 9

I stifled a scream as I staggered backwards, knocking the rubbish bin sideways. A half-eaten tray of fish, chips and mushy peas landed face down on the tiled floor beside me. Along with an array of empty tin cans, newspaper and spaghetti hoops.

“Well, if it isn’t the merry widow herself.” Shane smiled, showing his crooked yellow teeth. “You took your time. I was just coming to find you.”

“Wh—what the hell are you doing in my house?” I managed to utter, my heart and head hammering in unison.

“That’s not a very nice welcome is it? I merely came to pay my respects.” The smile turned into a scowl and his eyes flashed menacingly. A large, yellow headed pimple quivered on his top lip.

“Get out. Get out of here now or so help me …” I shook my head, terrified. My stomach twirled and I could barely breathe. I scratched at the back of my neck, trying to erase the memory of his warm breath.

“I’ve been dreaming about your fiery temper since you tried to stick the boot in outside the surgery that day. I love my ladies with a bit of push back.” He made a grotesque hip thrusting motion towards me.

“What are you doing here, Shane?” My thoughts were in a riot. I needed to keep my cool.

“I came to ask if you need anything—” he paused and leered, “—now your hubby’s gone and bit the dust.”

“You’re disgusting, do you know that?” I sneered at him, edging my way into the hallway.

“I like your sexy nightdress.” His eyes ran down my body, making me shudder with dread.

I glanced down and was horrified as I realised I was wearing nothing but a skinny cotton slip that barely covered a thing.

“Don’t be shy—your mother wasn’t,” Shane laughed at his own stupid joke.

“Just get out before I call the police, Shane. How do you think you’ll get away with breaking and entering?” I prayed he wouldn’t hear the quiver in my voice.

“No breaking in needed. You invited me over, today at the pub. Told me you’d leave the back door open,” he raised his eyebrows, a smile still playing on his pockmarked face.

“You talk utter crap. Nobody will believe a word of out of your mouth,” I said, shaking my head once again.

“You’re not the first respectable woman to fancy a bit of rough and you won’t be the last.”

Reaching the hallway, I backed up to the telephone table. Shane still had a smile on his face and I could tell he was playing games with me.

I twirled round and fumbled for the phone. My hands could have been stumps for all the use they were and I dropped the handset. Shane jumped forwards and swiped the unit off the table. It made a loud crash as it hit the floor.

He shoved me towards the snug doorway.

“Just go, Shane. If you leave now, I promise I won’t call the police. In fact, I won’t tell a soul you were even here.” My heart pounded in my chest.

“I’m going nowhere until I’ve paid my respects. I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks.” He shoved me backwards once again.

Although he wasn’t that big, he was strong, much stronger than me.

“Shane! This isn’t funny. Do you have no compassion at all? I buried my husband today.” My back hit the snug door.

He leaned past me, twisted the knob and pushed me into the room.

I was terrified. If he continued like this, God only knows what he would be capable of once he passed the point of no return.

My heart hammered against my ribcage. “I’m tired, Shane. Please, just go. I appreciate you paying your respects but can we leave it at that? You don’t want to get into trouble, I’m sure.”

“One kiss.” He licked his lips, his tongue stroking the top of the yellow pus filled mound.

My stomach lurched. “I beg your pardon?” I shook my head.

“One kiss and I’ll go.” He shrugged.

“I’m tired. I can’t cope with this right now.” I reached the sofa and could go no further. Although my voice sounded calm, silent screams exploded in my head.

He continued toward me until we were nose to nose. A broad, sickly smile spread across his spotty face as his putrid breath hit my nostrils, making my stomach lurch.

I considered slamming my knee into his crotch, but thoughts of Emily stopped me. I wanted the situation to stay calm. I’d have more of a chance of talking him round that way.

He licked my face. The stench of tooth decay, alcohol and rotten food almost knocked me over.

I yelped, recoiled and wiped my face with my arm. The smell wouldn’t go away. I was bending backwards in an arc over the front of the sofa, the backs of my legs and my shoulders touching, but my bottom still raised.

As he pressed his crotch towards me, I gave up and collapsed backwards.

He straddled me.

I was shaking uncontrollably, petrified now, and strange whimpering sounds escaped me.

He lifted my hair and began kissing and licking my neck.

“Stop!” My voice a high-pitched squeal.

“I’ve not even started yet. Now be quiet. Think yourself lucky you’ve not had to wait too long to get your pussy stroked.” He laughed. “What’s the acceptable time-frame for a widow to abstain?”

“This isn’t funny anymore, Shane. My friend will be back any minute now and her boyfriend will kick your arse.”

“If you’re talking about the bleached blonde pygmy who lives here, she doesn’t even
have
a boyfriend. I’ve been watching. I know exactly who comes and goes, right down to the namby-pamby prick living over the garage.”

The seriousness of the situation suddenly struck me. I wasn’t going to be able to talk my way out of this.

He pinched my nipple through my slip.

I squealed, taken by surprise.

He repeated it with my other nipple.

“Hmmm, a matching pair, look at that,” he said, staring at my chest. “I’ve dreamed of your little titties and I can’t wait to slurp on those juicy big tit-ends. All I had to do was get rid of that dickhead husband of yours.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Shane? I’m begging you, stop this before things go too far.” The blood gushed in my ears. I was distraught, couldn’t believe this was happening to me. His mention of Jon horrified me. Could he be responsible for the accident? My whole body sagged and succumbed to the tremors I’d managed to hold at bay up to now.

“No can do, I’m sorry, look at this,” he leaned backwards, giving me an eyeful of the bulge filling the crotch of his jeans. “He has a mind of his own and there’s no arguing with him.” Once again he chuckled at his own words.

He undid his top button and holding onto the front of the waistband, he pulled each side of the denim apart. The zip slid down.

The tip of his angry penis poked above the waistband of his boxer shorts. But even worse than that—I could smell the dirty, cheesy thing.

It felt surreal, as though time had stopped. My raspy breath and thudding heartbeat filled my ears.

He pushed his underwear down further and his penis sprang free and hit my chest with a wet thud.

I squealed again, tears pouring from my eyes.

He laughed. “Kiss it.”

“Please, Shane …” My hands pushed at his bony hips.

“Kiss it, bitch!” he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head towards the glistening, purple tip.

My tightly shut lips brushed against the disgusting, sticky head of his penis.

“Again,” he said, thrusting towards my mouth.

I pushed at his hips with all my might, yet my strength had gone. My arms shook with sheer effort. I considered biting his dick, but the thought made me gag.

Tears streamed down my cheeks. My eyes squeezed tight shut, trying to block out what was happening.

“Suck it—suck it!” his voice came out in short gasps. I thought he was close to ejaculating. “Suck it!” He pulled my hair so hard I heard it snapping out at the roots. “Suck!”

My lips parted and he thrust himself into my mouth. My garbled cries seemed to excite him all the more as he bucked his pelvis towards my face. I retched at every thrust.

Suddenly he pulled himself away, grabbing me by the hair again he dragged me into a horizontal position on the sofa, tearing the flimsy straps of my slip. He ripped the rest away in one tug.

“Shane!” My voice close to hysterical.

“Delicious,” he said as he glanced at my naked body. “A bit skinny, but fucking delicious.”

He put one leg up on the seat and stared down at me. Gripping the shaft of his penis, he yanked at it several times, his testicles bouncing obscenely above my face.

I thought I might pass out. The room spun and sounds echoed reminding me of the swimming baths I went to as a kid in Manchester.

He put his leg down. His jeans were bunched around the other ankle and he kicked them off. Then he grabbed at my breast and squeezed it roughly before climbing on top of me, shoving his knee in between my legs.

I could feel him pushing his penis at the top of my thighs.

He re-positioned himself and found his target.

I cried out loud, biting my bottom lip as he thrust himself into me.

Hardly breathing, eyes shut tight. I couldn’t escape, so I would have to let him finish, which by the sound of his grunts, shouldn’t be too far off.

His thrusts became more frenzied and erratic. He ejaculated half inside me and the rest in a puddle on my stomach.

A white hot pain tore through me as Shane sunk his teeth into my breast. I couldn’t hold back any longer, the intense pain was too much to bear and a scream belted from me.

All of a sudden the snug door burst open and Frank stood in the doorway with his walking stick raised above his head. He moved faster than I’d seen him do in years. The stick connected with Shane’s head with a deafening crack.

Shane didn’t seem at all fazed by the attack.

He pushed himself off me in one fluid movement and backhanded Frank, sending him flying to the ground.

Frank didn’t move. He lay on his back with half of his broken walking stick still in his hand.

I looked for the other half and found it on the floor at my feet.

Shane jumped on top of Frank blocking my view. All I could see was Shane’s bony, bare arse in the air, thin legs ending with grimy white socks and grubby trainers. But the sound was unmistakable as Shane’s fists made sickening contact with Frank’s face.

Without thinking, I snatched up the jagged, wooden stick and launched myself towards them, thrusting the tip into the middle of Shane’s back with all my might.

Shane let out a blood-curdling scream.

He tried to reach behind his back as he writhed around on the floor, but to no avail. His dark grey t-shirt had an even darker stain surrounding the protruding stick.

I grabbed hold of his hair and pulled him backwards. The stick thrust even deeper into him as he hit the polished wooden floor.

On automatic pilot now, I ran to the kitchen and got a packet of cable ties from under the sink, a towel and a dining chair.

When I returned, both Frank and Shane were as I’d left them.

Tapping into an energy source I didn’t know I possessed, I had Shane tied like a trussed chicken and fastened to the chair within minutes. The wet gurgling sounds coming from him were terrible—it was obvious to me the stick had punctured his lung. Blood dripped noisily, landing in a puddle on the floorboards.

I stuffed the towel around the wound as much as I could, but he was losing a lot of blood.

I rolled the hand-knotted wool rug to the side of the room before the blood could reach it.

Satisfied I’d tied Shane properly, I ran to Frank’s side.

“Frank?”

His eyes flickered but stayed shut.

“Frank, can you hear me? I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“No, lass, no ambulance,” he said in a whisper. His eyes flickering open. A small trickle of blood ran from his mouth.

“Are you all right? Where are you hurt?” I said, my teeth chattering.

He shook his head and tried to lift himself up onto his good elbow.

“Help me up, lass,” he said, seeming a little more with it.

“Here you go, after three. “One—two—three.” I’d forgotten how solid he was. We managed to get him up and sitting on the sofa.

“Get dressed, lass,” Frank said softly.

I looked down and crossed my arms about my nakedness before I sped from the room to the laundry where I threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of jogging bottoms. I winced as the fabric touched the bite mark on my chest.

When I got back Shane’s mouth was moving, as if having a full on conversation without sound. I couldn’t understand a word of it.

“I’d better call an ambulance, Frank. Not that I want to. The bastard doesn’t deserve anyone saving him.” I couldn’t stand still my legs shook so much and my voice warbled. “If you hadn’t come in, God knows what he’d have gone on to do.” I turned to leave. “I’ll call the police too.”

“Wait,” Frank said. He was lying back on the sofa, trying to catch his breath. “How old is he?”