CRUEL SECRETS Read online

  “I said, take a bath,” he said, in a low, creepy tone.

  Kelly could feel the vomit rising to the back of her throat. He lunged forward to snatch her arm, but she leapt from the bed and tried frantically to get out of her room. Viciously, he caught her by the hair and rammed her face into the wall. As she stumbled and fell to the floor, he lost his grip. In a split second, he tried to reach down and grab her hair again. In fear and haste, she seized the nearest object, the cast iron wolf doorstopper. Her adrenaline was racing through her veins, giving her the strength to lift it into the air and smash it down hard against his head. She felt the impact, as if she had just hit a brick wall. The clanking sound caused her to cringe, yet, more shockingly, his heavy body was on top of her, jolting and twitching. Kelly tried to catch her breath and hold in the scream. She wriggled until she escaped his dead weight. In an instant, she was on her feet and ready to run. But there was an eerie silence, and she peered down to find Patrick’s head at an awkward angle and black blood pooling around him. The gaping hole was horrific and for a moment she thought she was dreaming. Then she saw the twitching end; with his lifeless eyes cold and glaring, she realised right away he was dead.

  It was like something out of one of those horror stories she had watched at her aunt’s. For a second, she stared – not out of morbid curiosity but to comprehend what had just happened. It then hit her, she had to get away. She dashed down the stairs, snatched her coat and bag from the hallway table, and ran out of the door and along the road. It wasn’t until she was approaching the park that she stopped to catch her breath. The cold air and the heavy breathing made her lungs feel like they were on fire. She was gasping but dread made her carry on – she had to get away now. Her mother would kill her. The police would arrest her. She couldn’t go to her aunt’s; she couldn’t face her. In fact, she couldn’t face anyone; she was now a murderer. It was all so fast: one minute she was having a makeover, the next she was bludgeoning a man to death. Keep going, Kelly, keep going.

  Across the park and along the river, she ran as fast as she could. It was hard to know which way to turn; she rarely ventured outside the town, and on those occasions when she did, it was with her mother. The darkness was daunting but the idea of turning back was far, far worse. She had to get away. Eventually, she ended up in the woods; it wasn’t a forest but well away from people. There were no lights or street lamps for miles. Without a watch, she had no idea of the time. Further and deeper into the woods she walked, slipping and sliding over the muddy roots.

  However, she was away from the town and hopefully far enough away from being caught. Her feet were sore and she was overcome with fatigue, having been running for hours. There, in front, just visible by moonlight, was an old tent still erected but vacant. She looked about and then bent down and crawled inside to find an old sleeping bag rolled in a ball. She was concerned by what she would find inside, but it wasn’t as if she had many options. She hoped fervently the police weren’t on to her yet.

  That night was probably the most terrifying experience of her life. She lay there in fear of her safety, of her freedom, and of anything else that could creep into her tatty tent and scare the living shit out of her. The cold, the damp, and the traumatic event she had suffered, made her shiver relentlessly. Maybe she would burn in the everlasting fires of hell. She laughed, a sign of hysteria. Having been terrified of even swearing up to this point, she had, in the space of an hour, risen quickly up the criminal scales to the point where she had committed the ultimate sin – murder.

  Eventually, she drifted off into a light sleep filled with monstrous dreams, with the damp creeping into her bones. The late September sun was bright and highlighted the mouldy sleeping bag, along with a dead rat for company lying next to her. She squeezed out of the tent and stretched herself, feeling every ache and pain in her muscles. She didn’t like running and last night was probably the longest ever. Although she was fit, running for hours had taken it out of her.

  In the light, she noticed her white socks were covered in blood and she had the presence of mind to immediately chuck them. In the distance, she saw a town and didn’t recognise it at all. Inside the torn lining of her bag, she found the change from the magazine. She almost laughed again. Why was she carrying her school bag? She retrieved the change and ditched the bag. Then, she continued to walk until she was on the edge of what looked like a busy high street, and within seconds, a bus pulled up heading for St Pancras. Knowing she was close to London, and away from immediate danger of being caught, it seemed as good a place as any to head for. She hoped it was as hectic as people said it was. Maybe there she could get lost in the crowds and plan her next move because going back to her home was not an option, not now, not ever.

  With no idea of where she was, she handed the driver the fare and realised she was off to a place with no money on her to purchase food or clothes. The warm air hit her, as she headed towards the back of the bus; well, she could at least warm up. Even her clothes still felt damp and she was hard-pressed to get rid of the putrid smell of mould and the dead rat. People came and left, but she remained huddled in the corner at the back, half asleep, nursing her aching muscles and keeping her face hidden. Every time she thought of that gaping hole in Patrick’s head and his lifeless eyes, she wanted to puke. Eventually, the bus came to a complete halt. The driver opened his door and threw his jacket around his shoulders. She guessed this was where the bus terminated.

  After looking around, Kelly got to her feet and set off into the unknown. London was lively and colourful. Everyone was on a mission: there were commuters, businessmen, and tourists everywhere, all too preoccupied with their own lives to give her a second glance. The shopping centre looked inviting, so she decided to have a nose around. Her mother never took her to London. She could hear her telling her, “It’s full of pickpockets and prostitutes.” Outside, on the streets again, the heavens opened and the rain poured. That was her cue to get inside the train station. She was already cold and becoming more fearful by the minute. Her paranoia of being caught was at its peak, and she was beginning to feel as though everyone was looking at her. As soon as the rain stopped, she left and began to walk the streets of London, unable to take in the surroundings where old meets contemporary. Too afraid to look up, she continued to walk aimlessly, going over and over in her mind what she had done. It was intriguing that no one took any notice of her – after all, wasn’t she Kelly the murderer?

  The night was drawing in and a place to sleep was a priority – maybe a job with a room, she thought. Hours passed and it was dark, and she still had no idea where she was, but she soon realised the buildings were now houses and all of them run-down. She was in the middle of a council estate. It was gloomy and foreboding.

  Then she spotted a small kebab shop which still looked busy. She thought that maybe they could tell her where she could find a place for the night; perhaps she could even work off the cost of a room. It hadn’t crossed her mind she would be plastered all over the news. Her mother never had the news on, so she grew up not really knowing what was shown. Yet, she was fully aware that the police would be after her. As she opened the door, the heat hit her. The smell of chips made her mouth water and she soon realised how ravenous she was. In her pocket she had two pounds, enough for a hot chocolate.

  Three Turkish men stood behind the counter, frying chips, slicing meat, and talking loudly. There were five tables in total, one empty and the others occupied. Whilst ordering the drink, she noticed two of the men winking and nudging each other. One told her to take a seat and the drink would be brought over. She sat down and started to plan her next move; a smart decision was needed or it would be another night in the cold.

  As she looked up, one of the Turkish men smiled. He must be the boss, she assumed – he certainly looked older. The cold air blew in, as a group of people left without closing the door. Kelly got up and shut it.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” acknowledged the older Turkish man. She smiled back;
he seemed nice. She needed money and considered asking him for a job.

  In the corner sat a black man on his phone; she guessed he was Jamaican, as he had long dreadlocks, a gold tooth, and his accent gave it away. He caught her looking and raised his eyebrows. Quickly, she diverted her gaze.

  The older Turkish man came over to her table with the hot chocolate.

  “There you go. I have put extra chocolate sprinkles on the top.”

  He seemed gentle and kind. This was her chance. Normally, she was shy and wouldn’t even look at a man, but now things were different, and it was a case of speak up or freeze to death.

  “Err, excuse me,” she said, as he went to walk away.

  He turned around. “Yes?”

  “Do you have any work going? Only, I need the money and a room for the night.”

  She then realised this was not the smartest move; it was two o’clock in the morning, by the clock on the wall. She was in the middle of God knows where, and now she was gripped by fear, and the chill was sucking the life right out of her. Kelly, get a grip, she said to herself.

  He smiled, as he pulled a chair out and sat opposite her.

  Two other groups of people left, leaving only the black guy with the gold tooth.

  The Turkish man nodded. “Yes, I have a room upstairs.” He pointed upwards with his finger and gave a dirty chuckle. He then ran his big sausage-like fingers over her tiny hand. As he leaned forward, she could see his skin was covered in a layer of grease, his teeth were like rusty railings, and his eyes were so slanted they almost disappeared when he smiled.

  Instantly, she pulled her hand away. “No, no, I am looking for my own room.” She hoped he would laugh it off and walk away, but he didn’t. He looked around to see who was watching. But the only person was the Jamaican, with his phone stuck to his ear.

  The Turk grabbed her hand roughly.

  “Look, sweetie, you need a room and a job. I have a room and a job. Don’t turn down my offer and insult me.” His affable voice took on a sinister tone.

  She stiffened when the fat, greasy Turk squeezed her hand. Then she tried to pull away, but he was so strong. She glanced around to find there was no point in screaming for help – the only one left was the Jamaican. It was as if she had entered a house of horrors, and she almost wet herself.

  “Hey, little one, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. Come upstairs with me. I will give you a nice bed, warm sheets, and a little job. You can earn fifty quid.” His voice was sickly sweet again, which alarmed Kelly even more.

  His other hand was now under the table, rubbing her bare knee. She flinched and looked at the two other men, hoping they may help, but they were laughing. The Jamaican was still on the phone. She prayed for someone to walk in but the younger Turkish man from behind the counter was locking up. The backlights, the kebab rotisserie grill, and the lamps inside the open display fridge were now all turned off. She noticed the Jamaican glance at his watch.

  Really panicking now, her brain calculating the options, she thought about Penny and what she would do. Her stomach was in knots and her heart was pounding. The fat Turkish man was gripping her hand so tightly it was hurting. Penny would kick him in the shin and run out of the shop, sticking her two fingers up.

  She didn’t have the guts to do that though, so instead she said, “Please, let me go!”

  The young Turkish man was opening the door and the Jamaican had finished his call and was now up from his seat and ready to leave. She glanced at the door and tried to get up but the fat Turk seized her and tried to pull her back. It was now or never. In an even greater panic, she shouted, “Fucking let go of me, you creep!”

  With that he did, and she ran out of the café and careered past the Jamaican, almost knocking him out of the way. She was still sprinting, when she heard him call after her. Her fear was so great that even though the icy air was burning her lungs, she kept going. The estate was frightening enough, with only half the street lamps working, but the thought of being raped was worse. In the partially lit street, she didn’t see the pile of rubbish and tripped, landing heavily in the road. Her knee hit the concrete so hard she heard it crack and then the pain came a second later. She tried desperately to get to her feet, when there was the Jamaican, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.

  “Slow down, shorty.”

  Out of breath and shaking, she glared into his eyes like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Her fear gradually subsided. Maybe he wasn’t the Yardy gangster ready to pimp her out as she first thought. Yet she still felt as though she had been thrown to the wolves without a weapon. The greatest tool to survive was knowledge of the streets. She had no hope. He noticed the look of dread crossing her innocent face. With a comforting chuckle, he said, “Hey, it’s okay. If you want a warm drink, there’s a café up the road and a woman who runs it.”

  “Thank you,” she replied, still trying to catch her breath.

  “I’ll walk you there.” He ruffled her hair, a gesture that helped calm her fear.

  She nodded and shyly looked away, too afraid to make eye contact.

  The café was small and a bit grubby but it was warm and the worn seats were a comfort. Her knee was throbbing though. The Jamaican called to the large Irish woman behind the counter. “Mary, me beauty, bring up two hot chocolates and a bowl of chips, please. Me lickle friend here is in need of fattening up.”

  Mary looked over at Kelly. “Be Jesus, ya look froze to death. Would you like an egg with those chips?” Her voice was coarse but friendly.

  Coyly, Kelly nodded and gently smiled back. At the back of the room, she spotted a sign for the toilets. She needed to see what she had done to her knee, as it was still hurting. His phone rang again and Kelly jumped up and headed for the ladies’ room. Mary handed her the toilet roll as she passed the counter. Surprisingly, the toilets were cleaner than the rest of the café. As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, Mary was right – she did look frozen, with blue lips and a purple nose, but then she noticed the blood in her hair. Frantically, she ran the hot water, washed her face, and cleaned away the vile remnants of that gruesome murder. A nauseous feeling swept over her as she watched the water turn pink and run away down the plughole. Was this a premonition perhaps? She could see her own life easily being swept away down the drain, just the same. A deep, dreaded sensation clouded her once more and she inhaled a lung full of air to hold back the vomit. As she lifted her skirt, to see the black bruise, which had made an instant appearance, she unexpectedly felt sorry for herself. She crouched down on the floor and silently sobbed until she couldn’t cry anymore. But she was still alive, the hunger pangs confirmed that much, and she was still free.

  As she warily returned to her seat, he stared, not in a leering manner but just in a strange way. Kelly was too tired and exhausted to care; perhaps she had jumped out of the frying pan into the fire. Then she looked over at Mary and hoped, if there was any funny business, the big Irish woman would jump in.

  “So, shorty, what’s ya story?” he asked, as he leaned back on the chair. Rudy had seen that lost, desperate look before, and he felt a deep sadness for the girl. She had the biggest round eyes that were lifeless, like she was living life going through the motions but with an insufferable fear and a cute face that had the remnants of nasty bruising. Something inside him connected with her. He, too, was once on the streets many years ago, looking out for his sister, after their mother, who was a first-generation immigrant, turned to drink and then ran off with some random man, leaving them both homeless and living a hand-to-mouth existence. He had worked every hour of every day, doing anything, to earn a place to sleep and a meal for them both. His sister’s eyes had held that same expression as the child before him now. For a second, he wanted to hold the girl and tell her everything would be okay, but she was too sweet and nervous to be touched; he sensed that right away. One thing he was sure of, he wouldn’t allow her to roam these streets alone; he would help if he could.

  She shrugged; wh
at was her story? She was brought up by a religious nutcase and her father was a paedophile, serving a long prison sentence, but who, she couldn’t remember. She had no friends, except for Penny, and she had just smashed a man’s head in and for what? She couldn’t even say he had raped her.

  The hot chocolates arrived in tall glasses topped with squirty cream. The egg and chips tasted delicious, and as Kelly munched away on the greasy offerings, she realised she was starving and didn’t look up until she had finished every morsel.

  He was still staring at her. “So, you need a room and a job, then?”

  She sighed loudly and said, “I suppose you want a blow job too.” Then she realised what had just come out of her mouth and was shocked she could even speak like that. Unlike the kids at school, she never did.

  To her surprise, he laughed, but he was so animated, he put her in mind of a puppet with his arms and legs all over the place. Then, he placed a finger over her lips and said, “My man piece wouldn’t even fit in your mouth.”

  She stared, searching for a sign he was genuine, and then he smiled. Kelly lowered her gaze, feeling foolish and yet relieved. He was so different from anyone she had ever met before – he was almost alien.

  “Shorty, I ain’t no muvver fucking pimp either, so here’s the deal.”

  With the heavy bricks lifted off her shoulders, she was now prepared to listen. His voice somehow commanded attention, so she nodded, feeling a little more grown-up.

  Her change of expression didn’t go unnoticed and Rudy felt warm inside; she stirred something that made him feel so protective towards her, as if it was his job to look out for her, and so, come what may, he would love this child.

  “I have a house down the street with a spare room, just a bed and a blanket, one night only, but I want a favour.”

  Kelly was holding her breath, hoping it was nothing sexual.

  “You can set up a computer, right?”

  “Yes,” she replied.