Дэвид Муди - Hater

I force myself to get up. My body hurts and every movement is difficult. Very slowly, using the arm of the sofa for support, I manage to stand. I catch sight of myself in the mirror that hangs over the gas fire. My right eye is black and swollen. One of my front teeth is loose and I can taste blood at the back of my throat. When I see the state of my face I start to really feel the pain. I drag myself into the kitchen and step over the body on the floor to get myself some water.

That’s better.

The water is ice-cold and refreshing and it helps clear some of the dullness from my spinning head. I stand over the sink and wash my mouth out, spitting blood into the bowl. I stare into the pinky-red water and try not to look at Harry lying dead at my feet. What the hell happened? The kitchen floor is covered with his dark crimson blood. His lifeless eyes stare up towards the ceiling and I can feel them burning into me. I don’t regret what I did — I had to kill him before he killed me — I just need to understand why…

I turn off the tap and, apart from the occasional drip of water, the flat is otherwise silent. Could Lizzie have taken the children and hidden upstairs in one of the other apartments? I slowly walk towards the kitchen door, listening carefully. I know in my heart they’ve gone.

Fuck.

A sudden realisation hits me like a punch to the guts, more painful even than the physical and emotional blows I’ve already taken. Thinking about the flats upstairs has made me remember the body on the landing and the Hater’s words to me when he lay there dying. ‘Be ready for them,’ he said to me, ‘it’s them, not us. You see everything clearly when it happens to you.’ Jesus Christ, he looked at me and saw another Hater. I’m one of them. It’s the only logical explanation. How could Harry, Lizzie, Edward and Josh all change at the same time? It stands to reason that I’m the only one who is any different. I can’t explain how or why, but when I looked into their eyes I knew immediately that the others weren’t like me and that they were a threat. I sensed revulsion coming off them. I looked at my family and I feared them and that explains why I did what I did and why so many others have killed before me. I had to attack them before they attacked me. All except Ellis…

Keep calm I try to tell myself as I run down the hallway and go out into the lobby. I look out through the front door. Damn, my car has gone. Bloody hell, they’ve taken the car and now they could be anywhere. I’m struggling to think straight and my panic-induced nausea has returned. Keep calm, I say to myself again. Think logically. Where would they have gone? Their options are limited. They could have gone to Harry’s house but that’s unlikely with him lying dead on the kitchen floor. Most probably Lizzie will have taken them to her sister’s place. I’ll look for them there.

I’m cold. My clothes are wet and are soiled with both Harry’s blood and my own. I’ll get changed, get some things together and then go and find Ellis. I don’t know where we’ll go once I get her back. We can’t come back here. This place isn’t safe anymore.

32

I’m washed and changed and ready to go but I can’t bring myself to leave. The reality of what has happened is finally hitting home. The adrenaline and nervous fear has disappeared and now I’m left feeling empty, confused and scared.

I’ve realised I’ve lost everything.

I’m standing in Edward and Josh’s bedroom now just looking around. It’s too painful… I can’t put into words how this is making me feel. I know that my boys are within touching distance but somehow I also know that they’re gone and I’ll never be with them again. I pick up a toy — a piece of nothing, just a cheap plastic hamburger meal giveaway gift — and it fills me with pain. Josh had this about three weeks ago. Harry gave us some money. We were out late and we filled the kids up with fast food. It was the first time Josh had had a meal to himself. He was so proud of it. He spent more time playing with this bloody toy than he did eating his burger.

I have to let them go.

I go through to the bedroom that Lizzie and I shared and I pick the bag I’ve packed up off the bed. The wardrobe door is open. I look along Lizzie’s clothes rail and all the different outfits I see remind me of so many times. It fills me with a gut-wrenching sadness. All the memories I have — every second of the life I’ve led since I first met her — suddenly means nothing.

It would have been easier if they’d died. I know what I am now, and I know that Lizzie, Edward and Josh are different. I don’t understand the differences between us, but I know beyond any doubt that they are insurmountable. I know that I’ll never be with my partner and children again. As for Ellis… she’s like me and I’ll fight with my last breath to get her back.

I’m trying to shift the body in the kitchen. In spite of the hate I saw in Harry’s eyes I don’t want to leave him like this — half-dressed and twisted and slumped in the corner of the room. I pull his feet to try and straighten him out but his limbs are stiff and unresponsive. I fetch a duvet from the bedroom and drape it over the corpse.

While I’m trying to move the body there’s a noise. I get up and run to the living room to look out of the broken window. Two army trucks have pulled into the road and I know that I have to get out of here quickly. I don’t know for sure anymore whether these soldiers will help me or turn against me but I can’t take any chances. What about the woman I saw shot dead in the street earlier this morning? Was she like me or like the others? Was she a Hater too?

Move. Get moving now and don’t stop. But where do I go? The trucks are getting closer. I swing my bag up onto my shoulder and run out of the flat and into the lobby. Where now? Will they check the flats upstairs? Could I risk hiding there? I know I have to get myself away from here and I sprint towards the rear exit. I try to open the fire door but it’s padlocked shut. Christ, how long has it been like that? What would have happened to Lizzie and the kids if there’d been a fire? Doesn’t matter now. I look back and I can see movement right outside the apartment block. They’re coming. Keep moving. Just keep moving.

The door to the other ground floor flat is open. I’m inside it now and it stinks. No-one’s lived here officially for the last six months but it’s been used regularly by tramps, junkies, dossers and God knows who and what else. Its layout is a mirror image of my flat. I run through to the kitchen and force the window above the sink open. I can hear soldiers inside the building now. I can hear their heavy booted footsteps in the lobby. I scramble through the window and jump down into the overgrown communal back garden. I’m out. Without thinking I run through the long grass to the end of the garden then quickly scramble up the muddy bank which separates our block from the gardens of the privately owned houses which back onto us. I run along the ends of the gardens until I reach a tall wooden fence. I have to try and climb over it. I drag myself up, the muscles in my arms burning with effort, and manage to swing one leg over the top of the fence. I flick myself over and fall onto the pavement on the other side, landing painfully amongst the dog shit, litter and weeds. I stand up, brush myself down and run on.

33

The safest place to hide, I decide as I sprint, is somewhere I know the soldiers have already been. I double back on myself and head down the road which runs parallel with Calder Grove before cutting across a couple more streets and finally reaching Marsh Way. This is the area where I saw the soldiers patrolling when I watched from the top-floor window this morning.