Page 33 of Pride
“Emma. It’s lovely to see you, dear. Do you want to come in?” She held her door open for me, probably hoping I’d come in for a cuppa, and I felt bad, but I had to get to the bottom of this.
“I can’t at moment, Ethel. I just wanted to ask you about the parcel that came for me today.”
Ethel frowned.
“Parcel? I didn’t take in any parcels for you today, love. Did Ken leave a note?”
Ethel spent so much time at home she was on first-name terms with the postman.
“No,” I replied, my nerves spiking. “There was no note. I just thought you might know something about the parcel that was left in my living room.”
“I’ve been here all day, pet, and I haven’t seen anyone come to your door,” Ethel said, and then noticing the panic I was trying to mask, she added, “Do you want me to come over and help you with anything?”
“No, it’s fine.” I lied. “I think one of my friends must’ve dropped it off earlier.” I could tell by the way her brows knitted together that she didn’t believe me.
“Is everything okay, Emma?” she asked.
“Yes. Honestly. I’m so sorry to disturb you. I’ll pop in for that cuppa soon, though,” I assured her.
She smiled, and after saying our goodbyes, she closed her door.
My door was still open; the light from inside spilling out onto the dark path ahead. My gut told me not to go in there, but my head screamed, ‘You have to look at the parcel. See what it is. This is your home, and no one is going to scare you out of it. Least of all some S.K.A.M. artist’.
I walked back to my house, stepped inside, and closed the door. Then I crept over to the parcel and peered down at it. There was no parcel tape on it; it was the kind that opened by a flap at the front. Cautiously, I pulled the flap free and lifted the lid, and when I saw what was inside, I let go of the lid and scrambled backwards, slapping my hands over my mouth to muffle my screams.
I took deep breaths to try and regulate my breathing. My ears rang as adrenaline coursed through my body. I couldn’t stop my hands from shaking as I took them off my mouth and whispered, “What the fuck is that?”
The box sat still on the table, waiting for me to take another look. Beckoning me with its macabre contents.
I took slow steps towards it, this time using my finger to prize the lid open again. I wanted to throw up when I saw the bloody organ lying there, nestled in bubble wrap, to stop any leakage to the cardboard around it. Underneath the lid were the words ‘Here’s a heart, seeing as you clearly don’t have one.’
I didn’t need him to sign it to know who it was from.
He’d sent me a heart.
A fucking heart.
Still red with blood, and I had no idea if it was an animals or... oh, God, the alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
What sort of fucked-up madman was he?
I grabbed a brass candlestick from my fireplace for protection and headed into my kitchen to check my back door. It was locked. So I went around checking all the windows to find out where he’d broken in, but they were all secure. Even the locks didn’t appear to have been tampered with.
How the fuck had he managed to enter my home without breaking a door or window, and without Ethel seeing him come down the path?
Was he a fucking a ghost?
I didn’t know what the fuck was going on. How things had become so messed up in such a short space of time, but I knew one thing, I couldn’t stay here. Not after he’d been here. The fucker knew where I lived. He’d been in my home. I felt dirty and wretched, this made my skin crawl. I had to get out.
I grabbed a plastic bag from my kitchen to place the box into and held it at arm’s length as I marched out of my front door to take it to the bins outside.
Then I locked up my house and sent a message to Gracie to ask if I could stay at hers. But I had somewhere else I needed to visit first.
CHAPTER TWELVE
S.K.A.M.
Iwatched her holding the rail, swaying with the train as she made her way home. She had no idea I was watching from down the carriage. It was morbidly thrilling to observe her, knowing her days were numbered. That I was in control of her now. She didn’t look like a girl with a death sentence hanging over her, but she would soon.
