Will Hill - Department 19 - 3 Book Collection

The person it deserved to be aimed at was gone.

His dad, his cowardly loser of a dad, had taken him to London to watch Arsenal, bought him the Swiss Army knife he could no longer bear to carry in his pocket, let him fire his air rifle in the fields behind their old house, helped him build his tree house, and watched cartoons with him on Saturday mornings. Things his mum would never do, and he would never want her to. Things he missed more than he would ever have admitted.

He was furious with his father for leaving him and his mum, for making them leave the old house he had loved and move to this awful place, leaving his friends behind.

Furious for the glee he saw in the faces of bullies at every new school he was forced to start, when the whispers began and they realised they had been presented with the perfect victim: a skinny new kid whose father had tried to help terrorists attack his own country.

Furious with his mum, for her refusal to see the truth about her husband, furious with the teachers who tried to understand him and asked him to talk about his dad and his feelings.

Furious.

Jamie emerged from his thoughts and saw the sun high in the sky, struggling to push its pale light through the grey cloud cover. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and saw that it was nearly midday. Ahead of him a flattened trail led up the embankment into a small park, surrounded by tall birch trees. The park was always empty; it was one of his favourite places.

He sat down in the middle of the grass, away from the trees and the short shadows they were casting in the early afternoon sun. He hadn’t picked up his packed lunch because he would have had to go into the kitchen and deal with his mother, so he had filled his backpack with a can of Coke and some chocolate and sweets. The Coke was warm, and the chocolate was half-melted, but Jamie didn’t care.

He finished eating, tucked his bag under his head and lay down and closed his eyes. He was suddenly exhausted, and he didn’t want to think any more.

Fifteen minutes. Just a nap. Half an hour at the most.

“Jamie.”

His eyes flew open and he saw black night sky above him. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes and looked around at the dark park. He trembled in the cold of the evening and his skin began to crawl as he realised he was sitting at the point where the shadows cast by the trees met one another.

“Jamie.”

He whirled around. “Who’s there?” he shouted.

A giggle rang through the park.

“Jamie.” The voice was lilting, like his name was being sung and allowed to echo through the trees. It was a girl’s voice.

“Where are you? This isn’t funny!”

The giggle again.

Jamie stood up and did a slow turn. He couldn’t see anyone, but beyond the first ring of trees the park was pitch black, and the trees themselves were wide and gnarled.

Plenty of room for someone to hide behind .

Something was tapping at the back of his mind, something to do with a girl and a window, but he couldn’t remember.

Something crunched underfoot, behind him.

He spun round, heart pounding.

Nothing.

“Jamie.”

The voice was closer this time, he knew it was.

“Show yourself!” he yelled.

“OK,” said a voice right beside his ear and he screamed and turned, fists flailing. He felt his right hand connect solidly with something and adrenaline roared in his veins, then froze.

On the ground in front of him was a girl, about his own age, holding her nose. A thin stream of blood was running on to her lip, and he saw her tongue flick out and lick it away.

“Oh God,” Jamie said. “I’m so, so sorry. Are you OK?”

“You dick,” the girl sniffled from behind her hand. “What did you do that for?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “Why did you creep up on me?”

“I was just trying to scare you,” she said, sulkily.

“Why?”

“For fun. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Something else was rattling around Jamie’s mind, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Well, you did scare me. So, congratulations, I guess.”

“Thanks,” snorted the girl. She held out her hand. “Help me up?”

“Oh, sorry, of course,” Jamie replied, and reached down and pulled her to her feet. She brushed herself down, wiped her nose with the back of her hand, and stood in front of him.

Jamie looked at her. She was very, very pretty, dark hair tumbling down her shoulders, pale skin and dark brown eyes. She saw him looking and smiled, and he blushed.

“See anything you like?” she asked.

“Sorry, I wasn’t staring, I was just, er…”

“Yes you were. It’s OK. I’m Larissa.”

“I’m…”

Tumblers fell into place in Jamie’s mind and fear overwhelmed him.

“You used my name,” he said, taking a step backwards. “How did you know my name?”

“It doesn’t matter, Jamie,” she said, and then her beautiful brown eyes turned a dark, terrible red. “It doesn’t matter any more.”

She moved like liquid, covering the distance between them in an instant. She took his face in her hands, with a grip that felt horribly, immovably strong.

“Nothing matters any more,” she whispered, and he looked into her red eyes and was lost.

“I can’t do it.”

The voice sounded like it was coming from a hundred miles away. Jamie struggled to open his eyes. He was lying on the grass, the girl called Larissa sitting next to him. He tried to crawl away but couldn’t move. His limbs ached, and his head was full of cotton wool.

“Damn it, I just can’t,” she said, apparently to herself. “What’s wrong with me?”

He forced his eyes open, and looked at her. Her eyes were brown again, and she was looking down at him, a gentle expression on her face.

“Who… are… you?” he managed. “What did you do to me?”

She lowered her head.

“You were supposed to be mine,” she said. “He said so. But I couldn’t do it.”

“Your… what?”

“Mine. In every way.”

With a huge effort Jamie forced himself up to a sitting position.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter.” She looked up at the sky. “You should go,” she said, looking back at him with sadness in her face. “They’ll be there by now.”

A tidal wave of adrenaline crashed into Jamie’s system. “Who? Where?” he demanded.

“My friends. You know where.”

Jamie leapt to his feet and looked down at Larissa.

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” he asked, his voice trembling. In his mind’s eye he saw a face at a window.

She nodded her head.

Jamie turned and sprinted out of the park, running as though his life depended on it.

Please not my mum. Please don’t let them hurt my mum.

When Jamie reached the end of his road his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest he though it might explode. His vision was greying, the muscles in his legs screaming, but he pushed through the pain and sprinted the last fifty metres to his house and pulled himself round the gate post and towards the front door.

It was wide open.

He ran into the hallway. “Mum!” he yelled. “Are you here? Mum!”

No answer.

He ran into the living room. Empty. Through into the kitchen. Empty.

No sign of her.

He ran up the stairs and pushed open the door to her bedroom. The window above her bed was open to the dark sky, the curtains fluttering in the evening breeze. Jamie ran across the room and put his head out of the window.

“Mum!” he screamed into the inky blackness. His right hand slipped on something on the ledge and he looked down and pulled it away. Red liquid dripped down his wrist.