THURSDAY

I wake up on a familiar threadbare couch, in a familiar decrepit old house. Feeling stiff, I shuffle to the kitchen and put the kettle on for a cup of tea. Without looking, I open the cupboard, bobbing my head automatically as the door swings past, only glancing up to locate a cup. It's a well-rehearsed dance I've done thousands of times before. I wouldn't call it graceful. Efficient might be a better descriptor.

‘Jo… are you okay?’

Casey stands in the kitchen doorway.

‘…mostly.’

She hugs me.

‘Laurie said you came home really tired and asked to crash on the couch.’

Champion. I didn't even ask him to cover for me.

'Did you and Jaq have a fight?’

I have to think about the question. I'm still half asleep. My thoughts are jumbled and foggy.

We didn't fight. I'd have had to retaliate somehow for it to have been a fight.

‘No.'

She lifts up my scraped hands to examine them.

‘I fell while I was running.’

'Why were you running?'

I shut my eyes. I don't want to explain myself. Sorting out what's safe to say and what isn't... it's so much effort.

I wanted to believe I was a better liar than an actor. I think I'm really just bad at both.

'Let me have my tea first. I need to drink something before I die of dehydration.'

She hugs me again. I think she’s crying. Tears drip down my face onto her ragged dressing gown. We stand in the kitchen like that until her phone beeps, and she lets me go. I take my lukewarm tea back into the lounge room.

I should probably check my phone too.

I sit down on the couch and find the thing on the floor. It barely has any battery left. There are so many messages and missed calls. I can't bring myself to read through them all.

I put the phone down again. I regard the plastic bag of soggy clothes – it's an acceptable distraction. I try to untie it without ripping it, but I fail miserably. There is a take-out menu and a serviette at the bottom of the bag. At least I’ll be able to return the borrowed clothes.

I briefly consider asking Casey to read my messages first to screen them for me. She used to do that when I was still at uni. Just before I got kicked out for 'academic misconduct.' She'd 'archive' the ones from the bastard's little friends, telling me how I was ruining his life, and how they'd make sure I 'got what I deserved' if I didn't stop. It made the archived messages section on my phone a particularly toxic swamp to browse through. I couldn't delete them, though. I needed the records in case the police got involved.

I'm almost certain his friends knew what he was doing. That made it worse. Why would anyone go that far for someone they knew was guilty? They make themselves complicit. Why did they think it was worth it? It's not like they got money or fame from him. I don't understand the power he had over others.

I can't do that now. I'm not innocent this time. I've got actual secrets to hide - secrets that could endanger someone else's livelihood. Jaq's relying on me to keep him safe.

I pick up the phone again.

Most of the messages are from Jaq… some from Charles, and a couple from Lionel.

Lionel seems like the safest place to start.

The first new message is a warning that Jaq is in a mood.

Might have been helpful if I'd read it before he got to the hotel. I could have asked Lionel for advice on how to manage the situation. I imagine he'd have told me to ignore it until Jaq calmed down on his own.

Not all that helpful.

Jaq's message chain starts with a deluge of apologies. He didn’t mean to shout; he's sorry he scared me.

He tries to explain himself; he says he's under 'a lot of pressure.'

Yes, Jaq. I know. We're both under pressure. This situation sucks.

He confirms my suspicion; Frances had berated him for a solid twenty minutes that morning.

She's sadistic.

I'm not sure how she thinks going on a long-winded tirade about all Jaq's inadequacies will help him improve his performance. Perhaps she's deluded enough to think that she's saying things he needs to hear.

Perhaps she's just compelled to hurt him.

It's so easy to do. The boy has no defence. He's nothing but soft underbelly. I've been tempted to bully him.

> I didn’t mean to take it out on you

>

> I need you

>

> I can’t do this without you

>

> Pease come back

>

> I'll pay you more

I groan. The idiot shouldn’t be texting that. I warned him about leaving a trail.

I delete the message.

I rest my head on my arms. This is too much.

Casey sits on the couch beside me.

'What's going on?'

Without lifting my head, I say;

'I think Frances - Jaq's Mum - sort of set off a chain reaction. She's always telling him he's shit-’

Casey looks mortified.

'-and he gets upset, so he came to me to try and talk it out, but he was shouting-'

She looks livid.

'-and my brain shut down and I just... ran away. He must be so scared about what happened to me.'

‘Did he… were you… was there drinking?’

‘No. Sober shouting. He needed to shout into the void so he could feel better, but I was caught up in it because I was nearby. I feel so weak.’

‘It's not your fault.’

‘Yeah, I know.’

I wave my scraped hands at her.

'Do you think I need stitches?'

She examines the cut.

'Probably not. Just don't do anything too strenuous with that hand.'

We sit in silence.

I can't keep putting it off.

With great effort, I text;

> I'm safe. I'll be back soon.

And reach out to put my phone on the coffee table.

It rings, startling me. I hurl it across the room.

Casey tut-tuts at my foolishness and goes to fetch it.

‘Who’s in your phone as 'Executioner'?’

I suppress a laugh.

‘My lawyer. I have no idea what her real name is. I'm such a piece of shit.’

Casey gives me a look of reproach. I'm not sure whether it's because she hasn't been in the loop about my lawyer, or because of what I called myself. I suppose it doesn't really matter. I deserve all the dirty looks. I am garbage. I've been a bad friend. From the moment I took on this job, I've been terrible to everyone. I used her to spread rumours. I judged her. I abandoned her. I turned up for a brief moment when the house was broken into, but then I ran off again without a word.

I'm wallowing in self-pity.

She doesn't deserve to witness this.

I sit up straight, take a deep breath, and compose myself.

'She's been building a case against the kidnapper. She thinks I can threaten to press criminal charges and he'll settle out of court. I don't know why she'd be calling now though.'

'Call her back when you're feeling up to it. If Mr. Kidnapper is rich enough to pay hush money and you have the money to play at law... it's probably worthwhile.'

There was a time when she'd have idealistically told me to just press the charges. We've both grown past that. Neither of us believes in the justice of courts and bureaucracies anymore. Justice is for people who can pay for it, not for people like us. We've got to fight for whatever scraps we can drag out of a system designed for people bigger and more important than us.

'I will. I can't let him off without any punishment at all.'

She puts the phone back into my hands. The cracked screen is worse now.

I don't want to read the rest of the messages. Especially not with Casey in the room. Jaq's a moron that sends things he shouldn't.

I have no idea what kind of deranged bullshit Charles might send.

As though sensing my apprehension, Casey says;

'I'm going to get changed. I have to go out soon.'

I nod. She steps out of the room.

I try to mentally brace myself to read the rest of the messages.

It's not enough.

Charles seems to know the gist of what happened between Jaq and I. I guess he's having us watched. Whether it's both of us, or just me, I don't know. The thought fills me with terror. I look up at the window. I don't see anything strange out there now - but I slept in a house without a functional front door.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

I shiver.

His messages say that if I want to stay with him, he’ll keep me safe.

Safe.

Ha.

I'm not safe here.

Nobody I care about is safe.

'You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.'

Chloe walks through the lounge, on her way to the bathroom. She looks well. I feel like I haven't seen her in months. It's probably only been days.

'Have you seen anyone weird hanging around since the break-in?'

I should have said hello first.

I'm the one being weird.

'I don't think so.'

'How about today?'

'No?'

I hesitate.

I'm going to sound totally crazy if I say any of the things I'm thinking.

'Keep an eye out...'

'Why? It was probably just some kids. They even got spooked and dumped their loot. They know we aren't worth hassling again.'

If I don't explain the danger, I'm leaving her to fend for herself.

Would he really target them? Surely he'll lay low now, right?

I'm a terrible person.

He's not 'laying low.' He's sending me upsetting messages and not-so-subtly letting me know I'm being watched. I'm making paper-thin excuses to avoid the trouble of doing the right thing.

'Just keep your eyes peeled.'

'Okay, weirdo.'

With a derisive laugh, she shuts herself in the bathroom.

I stand slowly. I need her to know. I just can't tell her enough to make her believe me. None of them will believe me. Not Chloe, Laurie, Jacob, or Sal.

No one but Casey.

I can't leave my friends open to whatever Charles might be planning.

I walk down the hallway to Casey's room. With my head right by the doorjamb, I speak;

'Casey, how long until you have to go?'

The door swings open immediately, and I stumble back a step in surprise.

'I've got to leave in about fifteen minutes if I want to catch the bus, why?'

‘If you could catch a taxi... how long then?'

'Maybe an hour and a half? two hours?'

'I have to talk to you about some stuff I don't think I can say here.’

She sighs.

‘Okay. Let me get my purse. We can go get some late lunch.’

She tugs on my oversized hoodie.

‘I’ll lend you some human clothes too.’

‘Thanks.’

----------------------------------------

Casey and I walk slowly through the middle of the small park near the house. The big, old oaks, scarred by decades of children climbing, teens carving, and hooligans doing hooligan things… they remind me of my grandparents. Standing in silent vigil, weighed down by the things they’ve witnessed and endured.

‘You’re serious?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Charles Pitch thought it would be romantic to blackmail and kidnap you?’

I sigh, far too tired.

‘That's what he said. I'm certain it's not true. I think he's trying to isolate Jaq - or maybe punish him.’

She shakes her head.

‘It’s like they’re all from another planet.’

She hugs me.

‘I’m sorry you’re dealing with this shit.’

‘It’s my own stupid fault.’

‘How?’

‘The intelligent version of me that hides in the back of my brain with her hands far away from the controls was shouting the whole time that I had to turn Jaq down… I knew it was a bad idea. I didn’t listen. I should have.’

‘Shut up Jo – you didn’t make them into monsters, and you didn’t choose to be charmed by Jaques. It’s not your fault you have feelings… that just happens.’

Except, I don’t have feelings for Jaq. I’m a fraud. Lying for money.

Money is a bullshit excuse.

My phone starts to ring.

I reach into my borrowed purse for it - It’s Jaq.

‘Want me to tell him to stick his head in a public urinal?’

‘Gross. No.’

I apprehensively answer it.

‘Hello?’

‘Jo! You answered! I’ve been so worried, I’m so sorry, I-‘

‘No. Shush.’

He falls silent.

‘I’m upset with you.’

‘…yeah.’

I don’t even know what to say.

‘…you scared me.’

‘…yeah.’

‘Don’t do it again, or I’m leaving.’

‘Okay.’

I look at Casey, hoping she might somehow inspire me to say something clever. She makes a neck-cutting motion and points at the phone.

‘I have to go now.’

‘No, Jo, I-'

'I'll be back soon.'

I hang up.

Casey hugs me.

‘Ice cold. That took guts, girl.’

I put the phone away.

‘I’m not cut out for this.’

‘Relationships are hard.’

‘Yeah.’

It’s not like that, though.

I’ve probably already said way too much.

Even friendship is hard.

‘Don’t tell anyone about Charles’ bullshit, okay? I don’t want to risk anyone getting attacked or harassed by him because I’m a blabbermouth. I’ve got my Executioner on it.’

Casey laughs.

‘Sure. I can totally manage two completely opposing tasks. That's simple. I'll keep everything a secret, and I'll make sure everyone is safe from a bogyman they're not allowed to know about and thus won't believe in. You should come to me with easy jobs like this more often.'

'I've been tearing myself to shreds trying to do both.'

'Jo, you know you didn't have to torture yourself like that. I'm right here. I'm great at helping. I'm only whinging about it for a joke.'

'Thanks.'

'Still gonna tell people Pitch is a creep though.’

‘That’s fine. It’s probably too generic a statement to trace to a source… and I doubt I’m the only one with horror stories about him. You don’t just jump from totally reasonable guy to kidnapping in one day.’

‘Jeez, I certainly hope not.’

----------------------------------------

The sun is low on the horizon when I reach the take-out place from the menu. I’m not sure if it’s the right shop. It looks so different when I can see straight, and it smells amazing.

I take a deep breath and walk in. It’s not busy yet. Maybe I should have waited until the dinner rush so I could just hand over the bag and flee as quickly as possible. It’s a stupid pink gift bag covered in hearts, and apart from the freshly laundered gym clothes, it’s full of fancy chocolates and a bottle of wine. I assume it’s a nice one. I don’t know much about wine. The clerk at the store asked a lot of confusing questions about flavours the recipient would like - I must have looked like a fish. 'Um, um, um, I don't know.' was about all I could say.

This is embarrassing.

The man… Daniel, I think? comes out of the back room when he hears the door chime. He smiles and greets me like any other customer. I don’t think he recognises me. That makes this a little easier.

I put the paper bag on the counter.

‘This is for you and your Mum. Thank you.’

I assume she's his mum. I hope she's not just a much older sister.

I turn quickly, trying to escape before he says anything.

‘Are you feeling better today?’

I stop. I couldn’t outrun the words. Now that I’ve heard them, I can’t flee without being rude as hell.

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘Let me go get Boss, she was really worried about you.’

I wait patiently, eyes to the floor. The older woman comes out quickly, all smiles and cheer.

‘You’re back!’

She rounds the counter and examines my face closely. Satisfied, she takes my arm and gives it a squeeze.

‘We were worried about you, you know. You gave us both a scare. You should have seen Daniel’s face when he came and said a dead person was in the bathroom.’

I laugh nervously.

‘I’m really sorry. To both of you.’

‘It's fine! You’re okay now!’

I nod. The woman beams.

‘Did you catch the guy who hit you?'

'It's not hard to catch the pavement. It doesn't run very fast.'

'Just pavement? You were not run over by a car?' she whispers 'I know a very good boy who can help you cut their tires if you want...'

I can't help but giggle.

'It's okay, my husband is very clumsy too. We had to move out of a house with stairs because he kept falling down. Not good for a man his age. You are young. Very strong.'

This feeling in my heart… She's trying so hard to make me feel better. I wish this woman was my mother.

Still holding my arm, she turns to Daniel;

‘Did you get her number yet?’

‘What? No, Boss. She doesn’t want my number.’

‘She’s a good girl. She brought my clothes back right away!’

Ah. Maybe not. I don’t want to be under that pressure. Living it vicariously through other people is stressful enough.

‘Don’t be rude to her, ask for her number.’

My nervous giggle escalates to a titter.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay. I understand. I came into your shop looking like I was hit by a bus. It’d be weird and awkward.’

‘Nonsense! ...At least let me give you some food to take home.’

Nooooo… let me leave without being rude. You helped me so much already…

She disappears into the kitchen, and Daniel follows after her with the gift bag, still arguing about asking for my number. I can end the awkward argument. I can fix it. I can point out my engagement ring…

But, it’s not on my finger. I sigh. It’s probably back at home not home, in Casey's room. I took it off because it caught in the shirt she lent me. I have to go back and get it.

I think I feel relieved that I can’t just point at the ring and say ‘taken’ – and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m regretting my decision to help Jaq.

Lying to people I don’t know, who don’t care about me isn’t hard. Lying to this sweet woman and her son…

I’m a monster.

I can’t change that. But, I can still end the argument.

There’s a notepad and a pen on the counter. I take them and write down a number. He’ll never call, so it doesn’t even matter what I write. When they come out I can give him this, and she’ll leave him alone.

Am I… Am I just repeating the same mistake? I’m already in a fake relationship. Now I’m offering this guy a number so he can pacify his mother with a fake prospect. Why would he ever call me?

I really am a monster.

I crumple the page.

I’m a hollow shell. All it took was agreeing to help commit one stupid, selfish, thoughtless, cruel act to open a wound in my soul for my humanity to ooze out. When did my sense of decency finally evaporate?

On second thought; I don’t want to know.

The woman returns with a take-out container and thrusts it into my hands. I accept it and thank her profusely.

I almost run to the door, only stopping to drop the page in the bin.

I don’t deserve their kindness. I don’t deserve this food. She made this with her own two hands. For me.

I don’t even know her name!

I slump down at the bus stop. My mind is agony.

I can’t continue like this.

One month, maybe two he said.

If it’s one, I’m halfway there.

No, even half a month is too much to bear. I can’t do this.

Raindrops splatter on my hands. I look up, but the sky is clear.

Why can’t I stop crying?

I search in my handbag for a pill bottle that isn't there. I need to make a doctor’s appointment. I’m taking them so frequently now. I should probably be on something else.

----------------------------------------

When I finally return, Jaq is in my hotel room, practising. I'm amazed at how well the walls contain the sound. I can't hear it in the hallway until I'm right by the door, and it's only when I open the door that I'm hit by the full force of the music.

Jaq looks up at me, surprised. He puts the violin down and stands like he wants to run over and hug me. He doesn't.

'Jo, you're back!'

He looks tired.

'I am.'

I put the leftover food in the mini-fridge and stand with the counter positioned between Jaq and myself. I'm not sure why, but it feels better to have a defensive wall.

'I'm sorry I ran away.'

He looks shocked, then utterly baffled.

'Why are you sorry? I shouted at you for no reason.'

'You did - and that wasn't nice. But I contributed to the problem when I ran and hid, and I didn't say anything for a whole day.'

My monotone is almost clinical. I'm struggling to say these things. I don't want to apologise. I hate apologising.

I guess everyone hates apologising. Nobody ever wants to admit they were wrong.

'I suppose I should tell you why I reacted the way I did.'

He looks disbelieving; as though he was certain he already understood. He's probably quite sure that he's solely at fault. I could easily let him continue to think that. It would make him feel like he owes me. It might make him more pliant when I make requests of him.

It wouldn't be fair.

I still don't want to tell him.

'I had a panic attack. It hasn't happened in years. I get anxious all the time, but I've learned to keep myself away from a full-blown panic like that. I failed yesterday.'

He takes half a step toward me, then awkwardly retracts his foot. He wants to comfort me but hasn't the faintest clue how. I guess he's never had to comfort someone before.

'I'm sorry...'

I can already see the pity forming in his expression. I hate it.

'The reason I've been so worried about Pitch stealing my documents, and the thing that traumatised me enough to give me panic attacks are one and the same. It's a long story that I don't like to tell.'

'You don't have to. He can't hurt you now. Lionel has a video...'

I exhale heavily in frustration.

'He's still got us under surveillance.'

'What?'

'He knew about the argument yesterday. He's watching us. Lionel's video isn't going to keep him under control.'

'I- I didn't think he'd...'

I watch him as he stammers his way into silence. I don't like the look on his face.

'Do you know why he's so obsessed?'

'No, I-'

'Please don't lie to me.'

Jaq stubbornly stares at the floor in silence.

I think I've worked it out.

I want to be wrong.

I need to be wrong.

Please, for the sake of all that is sacred, let me be wrong.

'Jaq... Did you forget to tell your boyfriend that you were going to be in a fake relationship?'

'He's not my boyfriend!'

'Friend with benefits, then - did you forget to tell him?'

'He's not my-'

With a wordless exclamation of frustration, he picks up his violin and charges out of the hotel room.

'Fuck.' I say, to no one in particular.