‘Your father . . .’ began Rosemary.
‘What?’ Kara snapped, her knuckles white where her hands wrapped around the bars. ‘My father what?’
‘The report.’ Rosemary took a step towards her.
‘I know what’s in the report,’ she shouted, her knees weakening. ‘But it’s a lie. It’s always been a lie, only I got distracted.’ Her right leg gave way underneath her, her hands loosening from the metal bars. Kara crumpled to the floor, hot tears blurring her vision.
‘I got distracted,’ she whispered.
All those sessions, all those hours with the counsellor, papering over the cracks.
No! She wanted to scream. No matter what they said, no matter how much they tried to convince her, she knew, she knew deep inside that it was a lie.
‘Kara, please.’ Rosemary was at her side, trying to help her up.
‘Get away from me,’ she shouted. ‘Get away!’ Spittle flew from her mouth, her body shaking.
‘I hate you,’ she said quietly, the adrenalin draining from her body, leaving her empty.
If she was being truthful, it was herself she hated, for taking the easy way out, for believing the lies. It made her father’s life seem less important.
The truth. She had to focus on the truth, no matter what.
***
Focus! He was running out of time.
***
Day Forty-seven:
She woke with a start. The hospital was eerily quiet, her room dark, the curtain pulled around her bed, shielding her from the neon light of the corridor.
She felt a cold shiver travel up her spine.
Something wasn’t right.
***
A cold shiver travelled up his spine. She was there behind the curtain. All he had to do was cross the room, put a pillow over her face and press down. It was the only way. How else could he be sure? If the monster took over his body again, there was no telling what he would do.
I wasn’t in control. He just had to keep telling himself that.
But he was in control now. And he had to make sure the blood was destroyed.
It’s not like he could ask for it back.
He balanced on the balls of his feet. Fear spiked in his system.
She would have to die. There was no choice. No room for weakness.
He would kill her.
***
Kara slid her hand under the pillow, her fingers fumbling for the call button. Fear slid over her like a silk shroud. She didn’t know why but she could feel it settling on her. She pushed the red circle with her thumb, the sound of the alarm ringing down the hallway at the nurse’s station.
Part Two
Chapter Eight
Kara searched frantically, pushing the branches of the trees out of the way. The ground underfoot was uneven making her progress slow. She was breathing fast, her body trembling. Somewhere in the distance she could hear the sea, the roar of it beating against the cliffs.
Pushing the last of the branches out of the way as they snagged in her clothing and hair, she emerged from the tangled forest. The cliff edge in front of her was steep, a jagged fall of rocks down to a sandy beach. How was she going to climb down? How was she going to scale the rocks? There had to be a way. She began to run, fast, her feet pounding off the springy cliff-side sod. She had to get away.
Whatever was chasing her was close.
The beep of the alarm clock invaded her dream and she woke with a start, her body hot. She hit the red snooze button.
‘Ugh.’ Kara buried her head back into the pillow, the echo of the dream trickling away. She kept her eyes closed, waiting for her heart to slow down, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. She had been having the same dream now for almost a month. Someone was searching for her. What did it mean?
She stretched long in the bed.
‘Kara get up. School!’ Rosemary called from downstairs.
Rolling her eyes, Kara pushed back the covers. She had been dreading this day for weeks. She’d even been reduced to begging but Rosemary was adamant.
‘No way, Kara. You’ve been moping around the house for ages. Your injuries have healed. The doctor is happy with your progress.’
‘But, Rosemary,’ Kara began.
‘No. Enough. You cannot wallow in self-pity any longer. You are going back to school for the January term.’
Their exchanges of late had been curt and to the point, pass the butter, turn off the television, lock the front door, those sorts of conversations. They were both skirting around the topic of her personality readjustment. That’s what the doctor called it. Something to do with major trauma, shock to the body and all that. People experience a type of personality glitch for a while. For Kara it was more like a complete personality overhaul. All the pent up frustration, guilt, anger and grief seemed to come in one cataclysmic eruption.
Just give it time.
Always the same advice from the doctors.
Sighing, she lifted herself easily off the bed and went to the wardrobe.
She fingered a pale pink polka-dot dress that hung at the front. Ashleigh had convinced her to buy it the week of the summer holidays. Her friend assured her she looked good in it. Hanging in her wardrobe, Kara realised that even Rosemary wouldn’t have worn the rag. What had she been thinking?
Her new school uniform hung in the corner of her wardrobe. She looked at the stiff material of the school blazer. Her return was not going to be glorious by any stretch of the imagination.
Chapter Nine
Standing in front of the mirror in her bedroom, Kara felt ridiculous.
She jammed a black beanie on her head, trying to hide the worst of her hair. She looked like a homeless junkie.
‘I’m doomed.’
Her school skirt hung from her waist, the hem hovering mawkishly at her knees. Her white shirt was new and starchy stiff. It choked her when she did up the top button. The navy jumper was too big, hanging uninspired from her thin frame. She looked frightful and felt almost as bad. Taking the soft wool of the hat in her hand she pulled it off, flinging it at the mirror.
The journey to school was awkward. Rosemary insisted on driving.
‘Do you have lunch money?’ she asked for the third time.
‘Yes,’ answered Kara, gazing out of the window, watching the houses sweep by as they drove towards St Aloysius’ School.
The radio was on, a morning news report about a missing boy, twelve years old from Newmarket Street, not seen since last Tuesday. The third missing person since Christmas. Kara clicked the radio off, folding her hands across her chest, squeezing her biceps tight to her ribs.
Rosemary asked a question, breaking the silence. ‘And you’re sure about not being picked up?’
‘Yes,’ lied Kara. ‘Ashleigh said she would drop me home.’
Kara didn’t want Rosemary collecting her after school – it was going to be a bad enough day as it was.
Kara had timed the journey to avoid the maximum number of people. She would arrive while morning assembly was being held, nobody would see her get out of the car as they’d all be in the hall. Then when the bell rang Kara would just slip into the classroom as if nothing had happened. She touched her lopsided hair.
The car rounded a corner and came to a stop outside the school. Kara reached for the door handle.
‘Kara.’