Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (19 page)

In truth, she hated the place. She longed for a spotlessly clean, glamorous home, full of space and light.

‘There’s potential.’

‘I’ve never asked where you live.’

‘Lambeth,’ he lied.

‘Oh. I heard it’s not very nice there. I’ve never been. It’s just what I’ve heard.’

‘It’s cheap and has a boxing club.’

‘I wasn’t aware you had financial problems.’

‘I don’t. I’m just not ready to buy a place yet and until I do I’d rather rent a shit-hole for peanuts.’

She smiled. ‘Would you like a drink?’

‘You got any beer?’

‘I have some imported beer. It’s about five percent strength.’

‘That’ll do. Thanks.’

He imagined the ground shake as she made her way to the kitchen. When she returned she sat next to him and passed him the beer. He took a swig from the bottle.

‘Why did you use the name Col?’

Should he tell her that he might have ripped her head off? It was still a possible outcome, but ever since Dave had become so deluded by fat Fay, an unlikely one. Love could turn a man inside out – Dave had defied him and revealed Ryan’s identity, so it was not improbable that despite the strength of their friendship, Dave’s loyalties would waver again. If he killed the bitch, could he rely on Dave to disappear with him? That was the problem with this game - there were four players. Two was ideal – prey and predator – but in this circumstance, there was Dave and his bitch to consider. That exposed him and created leads.

For a split-second, he thought how much easier it had been when he was Col. But he quickly came to his senses, recalling the alarm he’d felt when he’d realised - after Dave had left two nights ago - the danger that plan had presented. Under a separate identity, he’d felt invisible and therefore safe, because he’d thought no one knew who he really was. But of course Dave
did
. And taken in by that fantasy, Ryan might have gone on to kill the soppy slut, believing he was untraceable. Dave had a point – it
was
a self-destruct formula, but not because it would’ve driven him mad, but because it could have led to his capture. It would have been too risky, under the circumstances, to expect his best friend to turn a blind eye to murder, and that was the only way it could’ve worked, because Ryan would only have detached himself once he’d neutralised the mine. Up until then he would’ve believed Ryan was non-existent and therefore safe. Dave could’ve fucked him, not because of a refusal to live with the crippling burden of harbouring murder, but because of his obsession with Fay.

Dave had longed for a girlfriend for years, and now that he appeared to have found one who could put up with all his shit, he’d do everything he could to hold on to her. That could easily mean telling her that his pal had slotted her best friend.

Ryan smiled inside. Dave, the conscientious humanitarian, had stretched the tightrope Ryan was traversing back into a path. He’d put him back on track. Ryan knew he’d achieve nothing behind bars. He needed to be out here with the people, tracking down mines, finding his place. It was best for Dave too – he wouldn’t want to live with the burden of stitching up his best mate.

‘Ryan!’ Stacey whined, waving her hand in front of his face. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yeah, sorry, I was miles away.’

‘I was beginning to get self-conscious,’ she chuckled. ‘You were staring at my face.’

‘You have nothing to feel insecure about. You’re beautiful.’

‘Oh, whatever. You were going to tell me why you used a different name.’

‘It’s no big deal.’ He shrugged. ‘I just do it for a laugh. Haven’t you ever called yourself something different?’

Stacey shook her head. ‘Not that I got my friends to go along with too.’

‘Dave does it too,’ he lied. ‘And when he does, I play ball.’

‘That’s bizarre,’ she responded, dissatisfied with his explanation but not feeling that now was the right time to find out the truth. Now was the time for rebuilding the relationship.

‘So how have you been? You look well,’ he said.

‘I was very shaken by that night we spent together, Ryan…’ She let the statement hang in the air. He waited for her to continue, but she just stared expectantly at him.

‘It was sex, Stacey.’

Taken aback, she stuttered slightly when she spoke. ‘Sex with insults… Do you
like
me, Ryan?’

‘Of course.’

‘Do you care about me?’

‘Enough to bring you flowers!’

‘Just say yes or no.’

‘Yes,’ he whispered.

She felt a glow flow through her. ‘Then you care about my feelings?’

‘Yes.’

‘The way you treated me hurt me very much.’

He just about managed to resist the urge to tell her exactly
why
he was with her. Did she really believe he was
that
desperate? No matchmaker in their wildest dreams would line him up with this fucking hag! He was a stud. He could model in birds’ porn. She should feel privileged that he’d fucked her in the mouth. Hundreds of girls dreamed of munching on his cock. Give an inch and they take a fucking mile… Getting annoyed was pointless though, as it merely resulted in more sweet-talking. There was one single reason why he was still here. He’d picked Stacey as the victim of an experiment and she would serve her purpose. He succeeded in everything he did. However much it took to do it, he
would
tie a leash to her and she’d eat his shit and drink his piss if he told her to.

‘I didn’t want to hurt you,’ he said.

‘You did, Ryan. Very badly.’

‘I’m sorry, Stacey. It’s just the way I am. Everyone has their sexual needs.’

‘Who taught you to be that way?’ She leaned towards him, listening carefully.

‘What you talking about?’

It was the response she expected. ‘People influence other people,’ she explained. ‘It plays a part in making us who we are.’

He glared at her, an instinctive reaction. The cunt was trying to understand him. She thought she could dissect him. ‘You a psychiatrist?’

‘No, Ryan, I’m not, but I believe I have a good understanding of people.’

‘So what’s that got to do with me?’

‘I just wondered who influenced you, that’s all,’ she said softly.

‘Is this your method of getting me to open up about my parents?’

She rested her chin on top of her fingers. That response surprised her. It was as if he’d accepted that they were to blame. ‘If you want to,’ she said bravely.

‘I was taking the piss.’ He smirked. ‘They’re responsible for all abnormal behaviour, aren’t they?’

Her morale slumped slightly, but she ignored the sarcasm. ‘In some people.’

‘In me, d’you think?’

‘You haven’t told me about them.’

‘Well then I must tell you
everything
about them, so you can heal me!’

‘I don’t want to offend or insult you. I just want to listen if you want to talk… Because I care about you.’ She put her hand on his and was relieved when he didn’t pull it away. Feeling emotional, she hoped tears didn’t form in her eyes. ‘I can help when people need it.’

‘That’s nice,’ he said in a way that he hoped denoted sympathy. ‘But I’m okay, Stacey. A little bit of rough in the bedroom doesn’t mean anything.’

‘Rough is not insulting and hurtful. It’s physical not mental.’

‘Well I’m sorry. I went too far.’ He didn’t want to say this, it wasn’t consistent with progress, but there was no alternative – she was choking.

‘Would you be prepared to change for me?’ she asked.

For seconds, he was speechless. That disturbed him. She was trying to take control. What did she think this was, a fucking love story? ‘You aren’t happy with who I am? There was me thinking you were attracted to
me,
and now it seems that you want me to become someone else?’

‘That’s not what I’m saying, Ryan. I just can’t handle the abuse.’

‘So it’s an
aspect
of my character you’re not happy with?’

‘Yes,’ she replied, annoyed that she had to lie. This was so difficult.

‘Well that’s reasonable then. That makes me feel better about myself.’

‘Everyone can become a better person,’ she said.

He stood up and laughed. ‘Is this a self-help class?’ He didn’t let her answer. ‘Have I enrolled on some poncy course? Because if I did, I didn’t fucking know what I was doing and I want out.’

She bowed her head and started to cry. He was a rock and she felt that she was sinking. ‘I just don’t want to feel so hurt again. I want this to work, but I don’t want the pain. Is that too much to ask?’

Ryan thrust his head in his hands. He hadn’t bargained for this. It was becoming detrimental. He dismissed the negative thoughts and sat down next to her. He forced his arm around her cellulite and pulled her toward him until the flab on the side of her arm moulded around his bicep. He listened to her sniff, leant his head against hers and kept silent.

Suddenly he broke free and sprung to his feet. She looked up at him, startled.

‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ he said, but she noticed his tone lacked its normal energy. ‘I need a piss,’ he mumbled and then walked briskly away.

He locked the toilet door behind him and steadied himself in front of the mirror. It was emotion… he’d felt
compassion
towards her! A tiny amount, an insignificant amount, unsubstantial, barely recognisable, not worth the analysis. But it had been there! He squeezed his face in his hands and let fury consume him. When he looked back up, the reflection scowled like a demon. Blood vessels bulged and threatened to singe the whites of his eyes. How fucking dare she? How dare she try to alter his course? Ignorant, naive bitch! The stupid cunt had no idea of the threat he posed. He could walk in that room and snap her neck in two seconds. He could kick her in the head until blood pissed inside her skull, or stab her in the heart with a knife! He burst into laughter. Yes, if anything it was amusing. It was David and Goliath, except he was a subtle and astute Goliath… Exactly! He controlled his breathing until it was calmer. He couldn’t kill her. He’d be the prime suspect; there were too many leads. And what was he getting a hard-on about? A feeling? An irrelevant, fleeting feeling? What a load of shite! It was nothing. It was a wild, crazy thought that had surfaced because it was unwelcome, like a soldier’s fear in war. It taunted him because he knew it was damaging and tried so hard to shield himself from it. Like stage fright, writer’s block, a preacher’s wavering faith, a runner’s wall. It had had such an impact on him because it was so foreign to him, like experiencing new thoughts after being possessed.

He turned the tap on and splashed his face. After dabbing it dry with a towel, he checked his appearance. Satisfied it was back to normal, he unlocked the door and sat back down beside a concerned-looking Stacey.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

‘You suddenly dashed to the toilet. I was worried.’

‘I have a weak bladder. I didn’t want to piss all over your new sofa.’

She smiled weakly.

An awkward atmosphere ensued as evening turned into night, and they said little to each other. They watched television until Ryan asked if he could sleep with her, emphasising that he had no sexual motives and just wanted to spend the night with her. After thinking about it, she decided to trust him and they went to bed.

It was three-thirteen in the morning when it happened.

Her alarm clock projected the time in huge white digits onto the wall in front of the bed. It was the first thing she saw when he woke her up.

‘Poke me,’ he whispered. ‘Go on, poke me. Stick your finger in my ribs. Come on. Please. Pleeeeeease…’

She turned towards him and when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see he had his back to her.

A chill smothered her. ‘Ryan, are you dreaming?’

‘No, I’m awake. I’m talking to you.’ His voice was a menacing rasp. ‘Poke me. Come on, I want it. I’m waiting for you. Don’t tease me, dig your fingers in me…oh come on, you little tease!’

Stacey pulled the sheets to her face. Terrified, her voice was a feeble whine. ‘Ryan…you’re dreaming…go to sleep.’

‘I don’t wanna fucking sleep. I want you to poke me. I always get what I want. I’m ordering you to poke me.’

‘Ryan…I need to use the toilet…I have to go.’ She couldn’t stop shaking. She wanted to leave the room so badly, but her muscles wouldn’t work and she struggled to push herself up.

‘Stay where you are, bitch,’ he hissed, ‘or I’ll rip your fucking heart out!’

Stacey gasped, her elbows gave way and she slumped back onto the mattress. ‘Ryan, I’m scared, I’m so scared. Please don’t hurt me. You’re dreaming. It’s just a dream.’

‘Do what I say. I won’t hurt you. I’m the daddy now. Do what I say. Poke me. Poke me now...’

She whimpered and wrapped herself in the sheet.

‘Do it! Or I swear I’ll break your head!’

She screamed and pulled the sheet from her face. Turning towards him, she extended a trembling finger and pressed it weakly into his back.