Twisted Little Things and Other Stories (20 page)

“Get help!” Victoria shouted, as an alarm rang in the corridor. “We need security in here!”

“You fucking bitch!” Emma hissed. “You goddamn cock-sucking piece of -”

She let out a gasp of pain as Victoria slammed her wrist against the bed's metal railing. Dropping the scissors, she tried to grab them again, only for Victoria to pick them up instead.

“
Whatever
, bitch,” Emma sneered. “You don't even have the guts to -”

Screaming, Victoria slammed the scissors down against Emma's chest, driving the blade straight into her heart. Filled with a sense of pure, primal rage, she pulled the scissors out and then stabbed her again and again, each time moving closer to her neck. Emma gasped and gurgled, spraying blood from her wounds as Victoria raised the scissors up high and then brought them crashing down one more time. The blades sliced straight through Emma's forehead and into her brain, which is where Victoria left them embedded as she staggered back and saw blood dribbling down onto the linoleum floor.

“Thank you,” one of the orderlies gasped from the floor, “you... You saved us!”

“Well?” a little girl's voice said suddenly. “Make up your mind.”

Victoria turned, but there was no sign of a child anywhere. People were shouting in the distance, but the voice had seemed to echo into her mind from somewhere else, as if it was trying to break through.

“Vicky? Are you gonna tattle or not?”

Victoria paused for a moment, feeling a little nauseous, before turning again and finding that she was back in the church, with fourteen-year-old Emma standing just a few feet away.

Part Six

September 1
st
, 1963

“Well
are
you?”

“Am I what?” Victoria stammered, looking down at her nice clean dress. The same dress her mother had told her to wear for church.

“Are you gonna tattle on me?” Emma continued. “Make your mind up, 'cause we've got all his silver to clean.”

For a moment, Victoria simply stared at the other girl. In the blink of an eye, she'd imagined a whole life for them both. She was used to her thoughts seeming realistic, and she knew that sometimes it was hard to differentiate between fantasy and reality, but this time she'd
really
allowed herself to get lost in her dreams for a few seconds. Now, however, she realized that none of it had been real, and that she'd still been in the church the whole time.

“Coward,” Emma muttered. “I knew you'd chicken out. Now get up here and -”

Suddenly Victoria turned and began to run, making her way along the aisle and then bursting out into the sun-drenched cemetery. Spotting her mother nearby, she ran over and immediately tugged on the sleeve of her dress.

“What is it, honey?” her mother asked. “You can't be finished with the silver already.”

“Emma stole a spoon!” Victoria stammered, her eyes with with shock as she tugged again on her mother's dress. “She put it down the drain! She stole a silver spoon from the church!”

“What are you talking about?” her mother replied. “Victoria, you mustn't be -”

“She stole a spoon! She -”

Suddenly hearing a banging sound, Victoria turned just in time to see a green car crunching at slow speed against a tree. A moment later, the annoyed driver burst out of the car, ranting and complaining about something. As she watched the scene, she realized that this was exactly what she'd imagined a moment earlier inside the church, and now it was coming true.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened, of course. Not by a long shot. Although she was only twelve years old, Victoria had already begun to realize that she possessed a special gift, something that others seemed to lack. She didn't understand the gift, not yet, although she was slowly starting to guess the rules. All she knew for certain was that she could always imagine how the future would unfold if she made a certain decision, and she was always right.

Always.

For a moment, she imagined what would happen if she
didn't
tell anyone what Emma had done. In the blink of an eye – faster, even – she saw another life pan out for Emma. A happy life, with moments of good and bad, but ultimately fulfilling. Easy. Without too much misery and pain.

A shudder passed through Victoria's chest.

“Victoria?” her mother said after a moment. “Whatever's gotten into you?”

“Emma stole a spoon!” Victoria replied, turning and looking back up at her. “A silver spoon! I'm not lying, Mommy! She said she stole a cup, too! I can prove it! She put the spoon in the drain, and she threw the cup into the river!”

As the adults began to discuss the matter, Victoria turned and saw Emma watching from the doorway.

“Emma!” an angry voice called out finally. “Get out here immediately and explain yourself!”

Emma sighed, and she looked particularly annoyed as she skulked down the steps. She cast a dark scowl at Victoria, clearly annoyed at having been betrayed, but Victoria simply stared straight back at her.

“Thanks a lot, dork,” Emma muttered. “I can't believe I actually thought you might be cool. Now I'm gonna get in a whole heap of trouble! My Dad's gonna go crazy!”

“You shouldn't have pushed me over,” Victoria said firmly, her eyes filled with patient, simmering anger. After a moment, she began to scrunch her nose tight. “You shouldn't have made me scrape my knee. Now you're gonna pay.”

The Ferry

Prologue

They're still screaming, which means they're still alive in there.

Which means I still have a chance.

“Sophie, no!” Mark shouts as I jump. “Stop!”

Almost slipping as I land on the other boat's upturned hull, I drop to my knees but quickly steady myself. Rough waves crash against us, lifting the damaged cruiser for a moment before pitching it back down, almost knocking me clean off the side and into the dark water. At the last moment, I'm able to grab one of the broken fair-leads and hang on, although the sheer force of the storm quickly slams me back against the hull, knocking the air from my lungs.

Somehow, I still manage to hang on, even though I feel as if my arms are being from my shoulders.

“Sophie!” Mark shouts again, but this time I can't make out any more of what he says as the howling wind steals his words away. It's not hard to guess what he wants, though: he wants me to go back onto the rescue boat, he thinks I'm taking a huge risk. He thinks it's too late.

A flash of lightning fills the dark sky, followed less than a second later by a rumble of thunder.

Scrambling across the slippery hull, barely able to see as rain pounds down through the night air and salty water stings my eyes, I almost lose my footing several times, but I'm able to hold on and keep myself from slithering down into the freezing, storm-lashed sea. I know I won't have much of a chance if I go overboard, even with the life-vest. The waves tonight are huge, stronger than anything I've ever seen around here, and they'd easily smash me against the hull of either the upturned cruiser or the rescue boat, most likely shattering every bone in my body. This is one of those storms that'll go down in the history books, and I'll probably be telling my grandchildren about this night.

If I live to have any.

Hearing a sudden thumping sound, I realize that someone's frantically banging on the inside of the upturned hull, beneath my feet. I can hear cries, too, muffled but urgent. Ignoring Mark's calls for me to return to the rescue boat, I edge my way along the capsized cruiser until I reach the aft end, where -

Suddenly a huge wave pitches the boat up several meters at the far end, sending me crashing back down until I land hard against the hull and slither straight down into the water, ripping my life-jacket in the process. There's just time to hear Mark shouting my name before I slip underwater, and when I open my eyes I immediately see the lights of the rescue boat above, and the looming dark shape of the upturned cruiser. The whole scene flashes for a second, followed by a roar, and it takes a moment before I realize there was more lightning and thunder. Getting my bearings, I start to swim back up, before spotting a faint light on the cruiser's side.

And three faces.

I swim closer and find a small window, with three people frantically banging on the glass from the other side. There's water up to their chins and I can see the fear in their eyes: the father, using the base of a fire extinguisher to try smashing the glass, which is never going to work, not with the difference in pressure; the mother, watching and begging for a miracle, and shouting as she sobs; and the little girl in her arms, looking out at me with a strangely calm expression, almost as if she's already dead but her parents haven't noticed yet.

After a moment, the little girl blinks.

Banging on the glass from the outside, I point up, trying to make them understand that I'm going to get help. The man freezes for a moment, as if he only just noticed me, and then slowly he nods. The woman shouts something, although I can't hear what she's saying, not from this side of the glass. The kid just stares. Finally, running out of breath, I start to swim up until I break the surface, gasping to get air back into my lungs as the heavy waves toss me from side to side, briefly banging me against the side of the wrecked boat. Slipping under again, albeit briefly, I take in a mouthful of water and feel it slipping down my throat, before I manage to get my head up again, coughing and spluttering.

Suddenly I feel a hand on the back of my neck, and a moment later I'm hauled up onto the rescue boat. There are disorientating lights everywhere as I land on the soaking deck, and I'm immediately rolled onto my back as Mark leans down and puts his lips against mine. I try to push him away, to tell him that I don't need his help, but he gives me the kiss of life anyway, and a moment later I roll onto my side as seawater bursts up into the back of my throat. I start coughing again, barely able to catch my breath, and when I try to get to my feet I feel a sharp pain in my gut, forcing me back down. I immediately recognize the feeling of cracked ribs.

There's another flash of lightning, and then a looming roll of thunder that ends suddenly. For a moment, I can't see anything; it's as if I'm lost in a calm, quiet, still voice of darkness, before suddenly my sight comes back and I find myself face to face with the rain-soaked deck.

“Sophie!” Mark shouts, barely able to make himself heard above the howling wind. “Are you okay?”

I nod, unable to get any words out.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he continues. “Do you want to get yourself killed?”

“They're -” I try to say, before coughing again and bringing up more water. I lean forward, desperately trying to get it all out at once, although the effort makes my cracked ribs hurt even more.

“Leave her alone,” another voice says nearby. “Jesus, Mark, now isn't the time.”

“She put herself at risk,” he replies. “She put us
all
at risk, she -”

Before he can finish, I pull myself up. With waves tossing our boat, everything seems to be swimming around me, and I almost fall back before steadying myself against the rail. I look over the edge and see that, if anything, the storm has become stronger in the past few minutes, but when I try to spot the upturned cruiser, I can't see any sign of its damaged hull at all. Pushing past Mark, I make my way to the other end of the boat, but there's still nothing.

“It's gone!” Mark shouts, hurrying to join me.

“Where?” I croak, my throat feeling harsh and sore from all the seawater I swallowed.

“It's gone, Sophie.
They're
gone.”

I turn to him. “Where?” I shout again. I can taste blood now, but there'll be time to rest later. Adrenalin is pushing me to keep going.

“It's too late,” he continues, more firmly this time. “They went under.”

“No,” I tell him, pushing past and trying to see the upturned hull, even though there's no sign of it anywhere. “There are three of them! They're still alive down there! I saw them just thirty seconds ago!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw them just before you pulled me up!”

“You blacked out,” he replies, hurrying after me.

I turn to him. He can't be right.

“After we pulled you up,” he continues, “you blacked out. You fell and hit your head on the railing. It took me almost two minutes to bring you round again.” He pauses, as rain continues to drive down all around us and the boat pitches with the waves. “I'm sorry, Sophie, but the cruiser sank, it was already too badly damaged. There's no way anyone can still be alive on there, not now.”

I stare at him for a moment, trying to work out why the hell he's saying these things. There's
no way
I blacked out, I stayed conscious the whole time, I
know
I did. Turning, I look at the rest of the rescue crew for a moment, as our boat is pitched against the crest of a wave. Somewhere in the back of my mind, there's a growing sense of nausea.

“Diving gear,” I whisper finally, stumbling toward one of the storage holds. I know it's a long-shot, but I'm not giving up, not yet. “We need diving gear!”

“They're gone!” Mark shouts, hurrying after me. “It's too late! We have to get you to a hospital, you might be concussed.”

“It's not too late,” I reply, fumbling with the latch on the hold. I have to squint, since my vision's getting blurrier by the second and I feel as if the whole world is starting to pivot around my eyes. “For God's sake, there's a kid down there! We can't leave a kid to drown!”

“I'm sorry,” he continues. “They're already gone, you know they are. All that's left is to recover the bodies and the wreckage when the storm dies down, and figure out what hit them and caused their boat to go down. We did everything we could, but we don't have any other -”

“They're still alive!” I shout, turning to him, incensed by his refusal to act. For a moment, I see two of him, before squinting again, trying to get my vision under control. “Don't you understand?” I stammer. “They're still alive down there and we can still -”

Suddenly I freeze. The boat is still rocking, tossed by the high waves, and Mark is staring at me with an expression of frustration, but behind him, on the dark deck, there are three extra figures. A moment later, a flash of lightning reveals their faces and I realize it's the people I saw trapped in the boat: the man, the woman, and the child. They're staring at me with blank, expressionless eyes, and when another flash of lightning streaks across the sky, I see that their skin seems blotchy and swollen, as if they've been in the water for some time.

“Sophie?” Mark shouts. “What's wrong?”

Thunder rumbles above us.

Holding onto the rail, I slip past him, making my way over to the family. They're still staring at me, and I can tell from their stares that they blame me for the fact that they went down, trapped in their boat as it sank.

“Please,” I whisper. “I tried everything...”

Slowly, the little girl opens her mouth, and seawater starts to dribble down her chin. Now that I'm closer, I can see that both her eyes are gone. Eyes are always the first to go when scavengers get hold of a body.

“I tried,” I whimper, with tears in my eyes as I kneel in front of her. “You have to believe me...”

“Sophie?” Mark says, putting a hand on my shoulder. He sounds worried. “Who are you talking to?”

“I tried!” I shout, as I scramble closer to the girl. There's a hookworm wriggling through the skin of her right cheek, its pointed little tail poking out as it feeds on her flesh. “I swear,” I continue, as another high wave hits the rescue boat, almost knocking me over. “I did everything I could. It wasn't enough, I know that, but there was no way to break the window, not without the right equipment, and -”

“Who are you talking to?” Mark asks again. “Jesus, Sophie, you're bleeding. That cut on your forehead must've reopened. We're getting you to hospital.”

“It's my fault,” I whisper through the rain, as I stare into the dead little girl's eyes and see pure hatred staring back at me. I can taste salty blood, mixing with seawater as it runs down my face, but none of that matters right now. “I should have found a way. I should have saved you.”

She pauses, before slowly opening her mouth. Fleck-worms are already wriggling through her tongue, eating their way up into her cheeks and chewing her flesh from the inside. All I can do is watch in horror as a section of her face sloughs off in the driving rain, revealing the worm-covered skull beneath still staring at me with cavernous, hollow eyes.