The Story So Far > Chapter 35

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Chapter 35 - Daisy - Pop-Up

Some point between sleeping and waking, I feel their hands. Whisper-soft touches of fingers caressing my skin, vile promises whispering doom in my ear. I thrust myself into the land of the living with a controlled lurch.

My eyes fly open, just as the sun is disappearing, late evening probably, on the grimy wooden floor of the shed. Of course they would visit me here, after all, this is where many lost their lives.

It’s a simple space, less than six foot squared. Some knives on different surfaces, a couple of hidden vials of my special sleeping-solution, one computer on a makeshift desk balanced on bricks at the back. Nothing special.

I don’t move from my back on the concrete floor, shifting only to pull my abused and shattered phone from my bag. Running a thumb over the mass of new cracks, I feel its pain.

Thankfully, it still works, although a couple of the lines have turned blue, like bruises under the glass. I empathise. I open and go straight to my messages with Uncle M, who’s been messaging rants about ‘coming back at respectful times’ and ‘I know you’re an adult so act like it’. He’s been talking to himself for about forty-two hours and I feel a stab of guilt spike through my aching body.

I don’t have the energy to face the music properly so I just send him a quick “I spent the night with Cole, I’ll be back soon.”

Which is technically not a lie. I just didn’t tell him how much of the night I spent with Cole, nor that I spent it in a forest and handcuffed then on a veterinary table… and now the floor of my killroom.

I groan. How did a simple act of checking on my boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend turn into this mess. All I wanted was some light stalking.

Should have stalked Hayes, I have a feeling the ex-major general would have been gentler with me than she was.

Ice cracks in my chest as I think of her, slumped against the alley wall, crushed. It killed me to leave her like that but I needed to get him away.

I don’t even know his name, even as I choked the life out of his unconscious body on my van floor I wondered what it was, who he was, if it was the first time he’d… Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter. He’s gone.

I release a long, controlled breath. Adita said I’ve bruised my ribs. Bruises hurt but they’re not that bad right? It’s not like I’ll snap if I do something stupid…. Like stand up.

It’s just pain, I tell myself, rolling onto my side. It’s just pain, I insist and shove myself to my feet. Pain.

Holy shit.

Standing straight makes my body grunt in a gorilla like way which would be funny if I wasn’t splintering into a million blistering pieces.

“It’s just pain,” I whisper outloud as I hobble to the desk and laptop. Damn, how am I going to explain this to Uncle M.

I distract myself in the best way I know how for the next two hours.

Hunting is something I had to teach myself how to do well, I’m not like some who seem to find it as natural as breathing. It’s an important part of entertaining my guests, preparation keeps me safe. I was lucky not to be caught at the start, really.

I emerse myself in the life of Geoffrey Hayes, doing as much digging into his personal life as possible. Most of his professional life is classified and locked away in military grade servers.

It would be so much easier to be a hacker. But, unfortunately, I’m nothing of the sort. I have a little gadget thing which I did a cheap Youtube course on. That lets me get past somethings, like Cole’s wire, but really I’m just flailing about with the tech situation.

I don’t discover much in my time looking through his, his wife’s and his mistress’s social medias. Just that his mistress likes taking timelapses of herself eating and that he still spent around twenty-three thousand USD last year on OnlyFans looking at panties.

“Hello”.

The word appears on my screen in a central box, like one of the pop-up ads of years gone by. But it’s just that. One word. No “Buy dick enhancing pills and grow out of medium condoms” or anythinhg like that just “Hello”. Worst advert ever.

I close the box and continue looking at Hayes’ favourite accounts on OnlyFans, albeit more cautiously.

But it pings up again only seconds later.

“I found you.”

I feel a chill spread through my body that has nothing to do with the drafty shed. My shaking fingers drag the mouse to the x in the top corner when:

“I see you, Heartbreaker.”

The words taunt me, the tiny pixels of black on white a screaming death sentence. It can’t be. No-one could… how could… My thoughts don’t stay still long enough to process them entirely. My eyes dart to the webcam on the computer. I used to think people were paranoid for covering their webcams. And now, I feel like an idiot. A stupid, dead idiot.

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”

For the first time, a placeholder appears under the message. An invitation. An opening to a conversation I don’t know if I want to engage with.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. If he can see me through the webcam, he can probably hear me through the microphone.

So I lean forward and type the question he knows I’m going to ask: “Who are you?”

The answer comes immediately. “I’d like to meet you. Can I meet you?” OK, not an answer.

“Cole?” It’s worth a shot. If this is another one of his attempts to catch me, I think I’d feel more comfortable than this uncomfortable uneasy unknown.

“Hahaha,” he types and I can feel the cruel laughter bouncing around my head. “No.”

“Who are you?”

“I go by HeartBeatz22 online.”

I lean back in my chair, staring at the words on the screen, processing.

On one hand, this isn’t that bad. He’s some armchair vigilante has some hacking knowledge and found me somehow. He’s probably old, alone and in his apartment scratching his belly button, dead chuffed that he’s found me.

On the other. I have become the hunted and that is an uneasy feeling for anyone.

I’ve obviously taken too long to respond and he gets impatient.

“I want to help you, Heartbreaker. I can be your friend.”

I stare at the message with stone-cold annoyance. I hunt alone.

“Don’t make that face, it doesn’t suit you,” he says.

My eyes flick to the webcam and I narrow my eyes through it at him before typing my reply.

“I don’t play well with others.”

“You need me,” comes the response almost immediately. “I have the skills you need to be great.”

Closing my eyes, I pinch the bridge of my nose in a move I must have picked up from Cole.

“I don’t want help, HeartBeatz. I don’t need help. I’m doing fine. Thank you, though.”

I close the window yet again, starting to shut down the computer when it pops up one more time.

“You sure? Because that Detective looked pretty close to catching you.”

My body stills.

I’m aware of every microexpression. Every move. Every breath that I make. I stare at the message, willing it not to be what I think it will be.

But it is: “I can help you get rid of him.”

I don’t move.

I don’t breathe.

I don’t blink.

Eyes on the webcam. Remember the eyes on the webcam.

Cole’s life depends on my reaction.

I will not mess this up.

I lean forward, fingers on the keyboard, face blank. I type carefully, slowly:

“I am only going to tell you this once, HeartBeatz: Maddox is mine. His life is mine. Go near him and I will pull every nail, every tooth, every bit I can remove from you will be. Then, I will peel your skin slowly off your body. Is that clear?”

It’s the longest pause yet. Rage bubbles through me, roaring vengeance in my ears as I wait. Then:

“Are you sleeping with him?”

My fingers curl into claws as I imagine them squelching into his eyeballs like tomatoes.

“I play with my food. Any real fan would know that.”

I don’t wait for a reply before mashing the keys once more. “Say the fuck away from him.”

This time I get a simple lie. The only lie I can see. But it’s a lie I feel to my very soul.

“You got it, boss.”

I slam the laptop closed, all pain forgotten, heart pounding, desperation and rage warring for dominance inside me.

“Fuck!” I shout to the empty shed.