Grave Girl (7 page)

Part Two:

Gone to Hell

Prologue

One year ago

Stumbling out of the nightclub, Sam stops for a moment and tries to get her left shoe to stay on properly. The damn thing's been bugging her all night, constantly coming off while she's dancing. Just as she thinks she's got it sorted, some asshole comes bounding up behind her and sends her tumbling down onto the damp pavement, grazing her knee and left wrist on the gravel. Before Sam can get back up, she sees a guy stomp past her, crushing her shoe in the process.

"Thanks a lot!" Sam calls after the guy. She gets back onto her feet and sways for a moment, as the whole world seems to spin around her. It's weird, but she didn't feel too drunk while she was inside, but the cold night air has really clipped her wings. Shivering in her tight, short silver dress, she stands completely still and tries to focus on staying upright.

"You alright?" asks a familiar voice nearby. Making her way precariously out of the club on high heels, Nadia thrusts a small silver bottle into Sam's hands. "Drink that. What time do they close at the Meadows?"

"Three," Sam says, taking a swig of what turns out to be vodka. "Or four. Or never."

"Come on, then," Nadia replies, grabbing Sam's arm and dragging her unsteadily along the street. "You're wasted," she adds with a laugh. "You can't even walk straight!"

"In case you haven't noticed," Sam slurs, pulling free from Nadia's grip and stopping for a moment to lean against the window of a nearby shop, "I've only got one fucking shoe." After letting out a hiccup, she reaches down and removes her other shoe. "At least now I'm even," she mumbles, steadying herself in preparation for the journey to the next club.

"You know what you need?" Nadia asks, clapping enthusiastically at Sam's attempts to stay upright. "You need
more
vodka. If you start sobering up, you'll feel like shit. Trust me. You need to keep drinking."

"Has my make-up run?" Sam asks, wiping her cheeks and finding clumps of mascara on her fingers. "Fuck, how bad is it?"

"Come on," Nadia replies, laughing. "It's hot. Seriously, Sam, you're a fucking state when you're drunk." She steps closer and leans in to look directly into Sam's eyes for a moment. "Don't sober up on me, girl. It's only two o'clock, we've got way more drinking to do tonight. I don't get many nights off, and I wanna enjoy them when I can."

Sam nods, taking several deep breaths in an attempt to clear her mind. "I just need to get my second wind," she murmurs.

"Hey," Nadia continues, reaching out and gently slapping the side of Sam's face. "What's wrong with you? Are you tired?"

Her eyelids drooping slightly, Sam shakes her head. "I'm okay," she says, although there's an ominous gurgling sensation in the pit of her stomach. It feels as if someone has reached into her guts and grabbed hold of her intestines, and is now slowly twisting them into a knot.

"If you need to be sick," Nadia says, "just be sick. Don't hold it in."

Sam nods, still trying to calm herself down by taking deep breaths.

"Seriously, Sam, just get on with it. There's no-one around." She pauses for a moment. "How much have you had to drink tonight, anyway?"

"Just..." Sam starts to say, before pausing as a brief stabbing pain jolts her brain. "More than you," she says softly, closing her eyes.

"Hey!" Nadia says, giving her a quick shake. "Don't fall asleep on me here! Come on, Sam! Don't turn into a fucking lightweight, okay?"

With no warning at all, Sam suddenly turns and throws up, spraying the window of the shop with a mixture of vodka, fruit juice and half-digested kebab meat. Dropping down onto her hands and knees, and putting one of her knees in her own mess, she takes a deep breath before being sick again. As yet another load of vomit comes up into her mouth, a small voice at the back of her head keeps nagging away, telling her that she can't keep doing the same thing every single night of her life. Something has to change.

"This time in a year..." Sam whispers, before throwing up again. "This time in a year... I'm gonna be better..."

Chapter One

Today

It starts with a brief noise, far away and insignificant. Someone laughing in the middle of the night.

The noise is carried across the dark cemetery, through the bars on the cottage window, past the fluttering curtains, and into Sam Marker's bedroom. Barely registering the noise, Sam rolls over and continues to dream of her old life.

An hour later there's another little burst of laughter, lasting a few seconds longer. This time, Sam's eyelids flutter open for a moment; she's not awake, exactly, but her mind has stirred just long enough for her to wonder if something's wrong. After a moment, she falls back into a deep sleep.

More time passes.

Finally, there's another noise. This time, it sounds like a scream, but not in a bad way. It's the happy, uncontrolled scream of someone who was just tickled or surprised. It's enough, though, to make Sam sit bolt upright in bed, her heart racing and her eyes wide open.

"What the fuck?" she mutters out loud.

She waits. She knows she heard something, and she knows it's more than possible that some kids might have climbed the cemetery wall again. She listens out for any sound that might seem out of place, and eventually it happens: another brief burst of laughter, followed by a muffled shout. Sam blinks, realizing that she's not definitely imagining any of this. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she sighs as she grabs her clothes from the floor and starts to get dressed. Eventually, she steps over to the window and looks out across the cemetery. All she sees is darkness, and the top of the wall running around the perimeter; above, the moon is bright and full, its calming light picking out the edges of just one or two gravestones. It's a peaceful scene, still and restful, but Sam knows better than to be lulled into a false sense of security. This is only her second night in Rippon, but she knows that there are bored kids in town. Kids with nothing to do, and all day to do it; kids who sleep away their days and then emerge at night, driven by hormones and frustration. They bothered her last night, chasing her with a stone angel and making her feel like a fool, and it seems they're back for more.

She smiles. This time, she's ready for them.

Glancing over at the dressing table, Sam spots the unopened bottle of wine that she found in one of the cabinets. It's so tempting to open it up and take a quick swig before she goes out to find the source of the noise, but she reminds herself that she doesn't really need that kind of fake courage. Not these days.

"I need to pee anyway," she mutters, wandering through to the bathroom. Once she's finished, she grabs her shovel from by the door, slides the bolt across, puts her shoes on, and steps out into the moonlight. At least it's not too cold out here, she reminds herself, as she squints in an attempt to get a better view of her tormentors. Looking down at her own legs, Sam realizes she's standing in a bright patch of moonlight, which means she's clearly visible to anyone who's hiding in the darkness. Sighing, she takes a few steps over to the shadow of the beech trees. Now, finally, she can observe her observers from the shadows.

"Come on," she mutters quietly, "where are you?" Turning and craning her neck to take a look down the side of the cottage, she's relieved to see that Sparky the stone angel is still chained to the drainpipe. "Sorry, Sparky," she says quietly, feeling a little guilty for leaving her only friend restrained in such a harsh manner. Still, she knows she has to work out where to place the angel, and she figures she has a little time left in which to make a decision. That's one of the good things about moving from Leeds to this little town in the middle of nowhere: life's so much slower in Rippon.

Suddenly she hears the laughter again, and this time she's certain it's coming from the far corner of the cemetery. Making sure to stay in the shadows, Sam creeps slowly over the soft grass, with her spade slung over her shoulder. Her eyes scan the darkness, keen to get any sign of the interlopers' exact location. Finally, she hears whispered voices nearby, and she stops to listen.

"I don't get why you're always like this," a male voice is saying. "It's the same every night. If you're not careful, Anna, I'm gonna start telling people you're a tease."

"It's not that," replies a female voice. "I just don't get why you always want to come here."

"You'd rather go to a bar?"

"That's not what I mean."

"Well, where else do you wanna go? Your place? Mine? There's nowhere. At least we'll be left alone here. You're not scared, are you? Come on, you know I'm gonna keep you safe. Feel these big, strong arms around you."

"Oh, please," Sam mutters under her breath. All this trouble, just for a couple of horny kids. They're not even
trying
to cause trouble; they're just looking for a quiet, discreet spot where they can do the kind of things that horny kids always do. If it had been left up to Sam, she'd probably just let them get on with it, but she knows she can't risk this place becoming Hangout Central for every local bonehead who wants to get a little kinky on top of a grave.

"Okay," the male voice says. "I'm just gonna slip this down and take a look, yeah? Just let me look. That's all I wanna do. I deserve that, right? I mean, I've been patient and all, but you've gotta give me something." There's the sound of fabric being moved aside. "You've got one hell of a body, Anna," the guy continues after a moment. "You mind if I stroke one of 'em, like this? Come on, you can't tell me that doesn't give you a little buzz down below. Why not just untie that knot in your panties and let me show you what you've been missing."

"I think we should stop," the female voice says, sounding nervous. "What if someone sees us?"

"So what? I hope someone
does
see us. If there's one thing kinkier than doing it on a grave, it's doing it on a grave while some limp-wristed asshole watches from the shadows."

"Limp-wristed?" Sam whispers with a smile.

"Did you hear something?" the female voices says. She sounds terrified.

"Relax. It was nothing."

"I definitely heard something."

"It was probably just an owl. You know what owls are like."

"What time is it?"

"Come on, concentrate on how it feels. I can tell you like it. Your nipples are hard."

"That's 'cause it's cold."

The guy lets out a sigh. "Okay, you know what? I've been doing this all wrong. I've been so focused on getting myself turned on, I've obviously forgotten to give you what you want." There's a pause, followed by the sound of a zip being opened. "There. Have a feel of that. Can't you tell what you do to me, baby? Feel how hard you've got me here."

"That's nice and all, Dean -"

"Just stroke it. Go on, wrap your fingers around it and feel the thickness. I know it's not all about size, but you've gotta admit, that's a pretty impressive piece of meat right there, baby doll. Doesn't it turn you on, just thinking about what it'd be like to have that inside you? Or maybe in your mouth."

"You've gotta admit," Sam whispers in mocking tones, "that's a pretty impressive piece of meat right there."

"It's not that I don't want to," the girl says.

"You're twenty-one, Anna. Twenty-fucking-one. Do you wanna be a virgin forever?"

"It's not
that
."

"Then what is it? I've got so much love to give you, baby, but you have to let me in. You need to let me through your sweet, velvet curtains and into your warm embrace. I need to know that you want me. I'm burning up here. A guy's got urges, and I need to get 'em fulfilled somewhere. Do you know how many girls I've turned down in the past week alone, just 'cause I've had my eye on getting something hot and meaningful with you?"

Sam lets out a brief laugh, before quickly putting her hand over her mouth.

"What the hell was that?" the female voice shouts. "Don't tell me you didn't hear
that
, Dean. It was loud as a fucking foghorn. There's someone out there!"

"No there isn't," the guy replies with a sigh. "It was probably just that owl catching a mouse or something."

"Owl's don't laugh!" the girl says.

"Sure they do. When they find something funny."

"There's someone out there," the girl says firmly.

The guy sighs before suddenly walking straight toward Sam. Panicking as she ducks down behind a gravestone, Sam holds her breath. Peering around the edge, she can just about make out the shape of the guy, silhouetted against the dark night sky. He looks first one way, then the other.

"There's no-one here," he says, before walking back over to the girl. "Come on, baby, that's half the fun of a place like this. You've got all those creepy noises, all those shadows, but there's nothing to be scared of. It's literally just a big old garden with a bunch of stones."

"And a gardener," the girl points out.

"The place is empty."

"No," the girl continues. "I heard they got a new one."

"Well, he's probably fast asleep. Besides, what business is it of his if we have a little fun? I'm not suggesting anything too daring, but I could sure go for a quick one right now. What do you say? Just perch your behind on this old chunk of stone, open your legs, and let me prove to you that I'm the man you need. I can fill you to the brim."

Sam puts a hand over her mouth again, determined not to laugh. In some ways, she feels kind of guilty for letting this drag on for so long; then again, she's also enjoying listening to this wannabe-Romeo as he tries to seduce his Juliet.

"I'm not feeling it," the girl says.

The guy sighs again. "Well, could you at least suck me off? I mean, I had to walk up a hill to get here. I'm tired. I don't wanna leave empty-handed."

"I think you'll have something in your hand before the night's over," Sam whispers.

"I want to go home," the girl whines.

"Let's just stay a little longer."

"No, I want to go
home
," she says, sounding as if she's about ready to stamp her foot and have a full-blown tantrum.

"Come on, let's stay just a few more minutes."

Sighing, Sam decides she's had enough, so she stands up and starts walking toward the voices. Although she could happily have stayed hidden for a while longer and listened to this train wreck of a date, she figures it's late and she should probably drive these two kids away before things get out of hand. The last thing she wants is to clean up a used condom in the morning. "Hey!" she calls out, affecting her toughest voice, with her spade slung over her shoulder, "what the hell do you two think you're doing in here?" As if to prove her point, she raises the spade high above her head. "Get out!"

Instantly, the girl lets out a terrified scream and starts running, while the guy mutters something indecipherable and bolts straight after her. Turning, Sam watches as the moonlight picks out the two figures racing toward the gate, and she sighs with satisfaction as she realizes that she just successfully scared off her first two interlopers. The guy leaps up and grabs the top of the wall, hauling himself out of the cemetery and disappearing down into the street, leaving the girl to make her own way up. Struggling to climb, the girl continues to make a series of rather desperate leaps while Sam wanders nonchalantly over to the join her.

"Hey," Sam says, unlocking the gate and swinging it open. "You might as well go out the proper way."

Without saying a word, the girl races through the gate and out into the street. Sam leans out and watches as she runs as fast as she can into the distance, tottering slightly on high heels.

"Not bad," Sam says quietly to herself, carefully locking the gate. "The death of romance." Turning and wandering slowly back toward her cottage, she realizes as she gets to the door that the cemetery seems to be getting a little lighter. Turning, she sees the first rays of sunlight starting to appear in the distance, and she's suddenly and rather inexplicably filled with a desire to stay up and get to work. Even though it's only 6am and she could grab another hour and a half in bed, she figures she might as well just stay up. Smiling, and a little freaked out by her own productivity, she leans the spade against the side of the cottage and heads around to fetch a scythe from the shed. As she passes Sparky, she pats him on his stone shoulder.

"See?" she says. "I'm getting the hang of this job already. Easy as pie."