Next of Kin

Chapter 1

I stumbled my way through the door and onto Melanie's cold patio. Somehow I had lost a sock in the process of leaving so the back of my shoe was rubbing against my exposed heel.

"Lia, are you sure you're ok walking home by yourself? My brother can drop you home or-"

"I'm fine, Mel, don't worry! I'll text you when I'm home," I hugged her before quickly jumping off the patio. The intense music inside dulled a little as the door closed and I began my journey home.

Every hair on my body was on end, but I felt warm and weightless. I floated down the street in a daze, giggling, thinking about the game of beer pong I'd won. My senses felt like they were working all at once, yet blind to what was happening around me; for they couldn't feel the presence of the stranger behind me. When I noticed him, he was probably 15 metres away. He had what looked to be a whiskey bottle in his hand, yet he was moving without trouble. Expensive-looking shoes walked loudly behind me, accompanied by a perfectly tailored suit; his head was down. I wondered what a man like himself was doing in this kind of neighbourhood, especially this late. If he didn't get home fast he would get mugged. I laughed as I thought about the possible belongings taking residence in his pockets. Maybe I should be the one to mug him? My laughter bounced off the walls of the shops around me. When I looked back again, the man was walking faster, like my laughter had aggravated him. His half-empty bottle sloshed aggressively with each step.

A blurry, grey, face was staring at me, but he was still too far away to out his features, only small shadows occupied where his eyes and mouth should've been.

I turned left onto my street without looking, keeping my eyes on the stranger. Dark figures crept down from the sides of the closed shops towards me. The figures began to disappear into the darkness as I walked further down the street. Had the street lamps broken? I could no longer see the man behind me, but I couldn't see in front of me either. The usual dim light of television screens in every house wasn't there. In fact, the usual houses weren't there. Two black walls stood tall on both sides of me. Suddenly, a large block stopped me in my tracks. I gagged as the smell of old fruit and fish wafted towards me. I knocked my fist against the block and it clanged back at me. A dumpster. I squinted my eyes and realised it was propped against the wall in front of me, blocking my path. I'd turned down the alleyway beside the butchers. I smacked my palm against my head and swore under my breath. I should have accepted Mel's offer of a ride.

The footsteps were gaining on me. My head whipped around to see the man's pretty shoes, pretty suit, and, now, vivid face.

"Hello," his face contorted into a sly smile. Perfect teeth glowed as though headlights were pointed towards me. Like a stag, I stood paralysed. A cold hand stroked my arm and pulled me back to consciousness.

"Stay back!" I shouted as I pulled away from his touch. The damp wall hit my back; I was trapped. He curled his hand into a fist and I closed my eyes hard in anticipation. My head was still throbbing from the multiple shots Mel had convinced me to take, maybe they would act as a painkiller. 

"We seemed to have walked down a dead-end..." He smirked menacingly, stroking my cheek. "We will have to see what we can do with all this privacy." With the alcohol still coursing through my blood, I laughed at his nerve.

"Dude, I have no clue who you are," my words slurred together, my head lolled and his almost empty bottle of whiskey caught my eye. "You're obviously more than a little drunk," I chuckled, "you probably won't even be able to get it up." Regret immediately took the place of my confidence as he gripped my arm and shoved me against the wall. A small gasp escaped my lips as my arm scraped against the side of the dumpster, leaving a small gash. Frantically, I ran my hands along the wall behind me, a futile attempt to gain awareness of my surroundings. The man bent down to sniff my neck, his clammy hands travelling slowly down my body with an uncomfortable amount of pressure.

"You're a sexy little thing aren't you," his breath was hot on my ear, "I can't wait to be inside you."

I froze at his words. I was going to end up on the fifth page of some newspaper that focused on the fact that my skirt was short, not that I was found dead in an alley, next to rotting meat in a dumpster.

The pounding in my head and the man's heavy breathing mixed into a sedative rhythm. I no longer felt part of the situation, but rather an observer. I couldn't move as he curled his fingers around the hem of my shirt, lifting and pulling it over my head. Goosebumps pricked my skin as the wind of the night hit my bare stomach and chest. My foot moved backwards but hit the wall.

"Don't be scared," he whispered into my ear as he groped my chest. I turned my face away from him and felt the wetness that was now covering my cheeks.

"Please don't," I sobbed. He smiled and wiped the tears from my face with one hand, the other still on my waist. My legs began to buckle and I sank down the wall. For a second it was only me in the alley, but then I felt his grip on my hair. He yanked me forward onto my hands and knees. I crawled away but he pulled me back, the gravel scraped along my stomach. I felt around me for something, anything. Glass clinked in my wake, I grabbed onto this miracle, a surge of adrenaline rushed through me. Blood pounded in my ears, blocking out all thought. I have no recollection of what I did or how I did it; only the tearing of skin and the rush of blood, his blood. I was covered in it, hot, sticky, blood. I pushed the stranger off me and stood over him. For a while I watched him; his shocked face, his shaking hands, his blood running through the gravel. The broken bottle of beer was still embedded in his skull, and fragments stuck out of my palm. I heaved, the contents of my stomach pouring out, splashing on the ground and mixing with the smell of death.