My heart automatically panicked, the blood accelerating through my veins. Trying to quieten my rasping breath, I waited as whoever it was performed the same wrestle with the latch as I had, and then wrenched the door open so hard it smacked into the outside wall. The beam of a phone torch darted across the walls, but unless they stepped right inside and through the clutter, I was still concealed. I would wait for them to say my name, before deciding whether or not to reveal myself.
But instead of asking for me, they instead tugged the door closed, and took a step further into the shadows.
Twin snakes of dread and alarm unfurled in my stomach, as the terrifying thought slithered through my brain that my friends might not be the only ones looking for me.
I hadn’t called Brenda.
I’d completely forgotten.
Would Becky have called?
Surely if she had, she’d have called me. Only I realised with a jolt that my phone was in my bag, over in the gazebo.
I pressed both hands against my mouth to smother my whimpers.
There began a steady rustling and scraping as the prowler started to search through the junk.
They might not be looking for me.
Maybe it’s Daniel looking for a tool, or a box.
Maybe it’s an opportunistic thief…
Maybe…
There was a startling clatter as they picked up a wrench and hurled it against the back wall. The clanging hid my panicked gasp.
As the phone light now strobed across the wall in front of me, I saw the clear outline of my fresh footprints in the dirt and dust. The beam froze, hovering on one footprint, before slowly following the trail to where they disappeared behind a box, a couple of feet in front of me.
A muffled giggle.
The stomach snakes writhed in terror.
I was sure I knew that giggle. So I didn’t know why I felt so afraid.
It’s not them.
It’s not the Bee Murderer.
I’m okay! I’m okay!
Slowly, painfully, my limbs stiff and sore from squatting for so long, I shuffled out before Lucy could get any closer.
She stopped, squinting through the dust motes lit up in the torch beam. I could just about make out the smirk slowly emerging as she confirmed it was me.
‘Well, well. Haven’t you come down in the world?’ she sang.
My arms instinctively rose to shield my eyes from the light, now pointed at my face. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Hunting you,’ she snarled, and in an instant her expression transformed from cool superiority to raw, rampant hatred. ‘I did promise, after all.’
‘What?’ Call me slow and stupid, but until a few months ago, Lucy had been my close colleague and my friend. She’d seen me in my underwear, tweezered my stray hairs, and last summer we’d sat on a Cornwall cliff-top, chatting and laughing and sharing stories until the sun rose. She’d encouraged me when I felt overwhelmed and out of my depth. Celebrated when our followers multiplied. Protected me from the worst of the trolls, while offering reassurance that I was not completely unlovable.
‘So. Where were we?’ She mused, one finger pressed against her lips as if pondering. ‘Ah yes! We were coming up with a suitable way for you to pay for what you’ve done.’
I stood there, dumbstruck, and tried to process what the hell was happening.
‘We could continue the funeral pyre theme – people seem to like a good blaze around here. How about setting this little wood-filled shack alight, and then I’ll stand at a safe distance and listen to you scream?’
