Should I go back? What if I don’t find anything, come back empty-handed and get caught out? What should I do?
After about two minutes lost deep in thought, I get disturbed by a phone ringing. I jump, my heart beating a million times per second. I follow the noise; it drags me into the study room where all his gadgets are. I look around the room. Momentarily I get so worked up I think someone is walking around – for my luck, they weren’t. I look up to his wall clock, realising the time, I seek for proof as quick and efficient as possible. The thing which intrigued me even further again was, going through his drawers. I sheepishly scour the room. I find nothing, not a trace of key to unlock this stupid mahogany drawer, nothing to pry it open with (without making too much noise anyway). My initial thoughts of his house were the complete opposite to what reality really was.
At first I thought:
Well it’s an old man’s house so it must smell fresh (maybe herbs because he tends his front garden all the time), with no pots and pans smothering the sink. The house would probably be quite clean, antiques everywhere, trophies, pictures of family and friends, but this was all wrong.
I didn’t know that:
When I entered his house, I was greeted by a big waft of aroma – and no, not a good one either! His back garden was an absolute bombsite! I made a discovery that he has no pictures of friends or family, no antiques apart from an old smoking-pipe and a few old bowls, no trophies, the rooms were filthy, and covered with files. Lots of files. Too many files! Everywhere you look: Files, shelves filled with files, cupboard filled with… yup, you guessed it… more freakin’ files!
I wonder what all these files are even for. I walk over to the file on Mr. Herrit’s desk and pick up the blue and white spotty file. It can’t be too bad can it? I mean the file cover doesn’t look like anything depressing. A shiver sends down my spine as I read the first page, it read:
Page 5.
Name: Hollie Tootington
Age when Killed: 18
Date of Birth: 24/5/1991 24th May 1991
Date of death: 25/5/2002 25th May 2009
Cause of Death: Stabbed in the Woods, then buried half-alive.
I flicked over another page, gobsmacked. There were pictures of the people he had supposedly killed.
Page 6.
Name: Andrew Mylackinn
Age when Killed: 4
Date of Birth: 3/2/2001
Date of Death: 19/6/2005
Cause of Death: Kidnapped, then Food and Sleep Deprivation.
Who even was Mr. Herrit? I got so scared I just had to look towards the end of this disgraceful file. As I open it my hand trembles, my blood turns ice cold, my heart stops beating, I can’t breathe, I have to support myself by the chair. I fall to the floor, blacking out for about 10 seconds. Was this real? Was this a horrible nightmare? Please tell me this is a nightmare and my mum will come into my bedroom to give me a hot chocolate just the way she always does: Hot chocolate, marshmallows, squirty cream and chocolate sprinkles. I wanted – needed her. I wanted – needed Dylan. I decided it was a good idea to open the book and read it, I suppose going through this torture will have to end soon.
Page 34.
Name: Sally Hinsoon
Age when killed: 16
Date of Birth: 21/4/1997
Date of Death: ?/4/2013
Cause of Death: Knife.
Page 34 was filled out in pencil, but still had my picture there. The ‘Cause of Death’ was scribbled out and faint I could make out a G and an N or maybe it was an M. I suddenly got distracted by a noise which for discomforting.
‘Crap. What was that?’ I slowly breathe.
The front doors handle-knob twisted. My life may be shattered into a million pieces soon. I search the room, and stand behind the study door. I heard a breath. And then a deep sigh. The footsteps got nearer to me. I freeze as a hand touches my shoulder.
‘Well, well, well. What ‘ave we got ‘ere eh?’ Mr. Herrit’s voice trembled.
‘Uhmm… I was searching for my book I left it over here when you had that barbeque and I forgot about it until now. I’m terribly sorry’ I stumble.
‘Surely if you forgot about it and all, then you wouldn’t be hiding behind my study door?’ He says as his confidence creeps back up.
‘Oh sorry you scared me, I thought it was an intruder. So I stood here waiting to see who it was-’
‘- so you could run away without confronting this ‘intruder’?’
‘Well no, I never said that Mr. Herrit-’
‘Oh please Sally, call me Pete.’ Mr. Herrit gestured towards his living room.
‘Oh sorry I just came to collect something which you obviously haven’t got Mr… I mean… err… Pete.’ I bawl.
‘No, no, no, child… I mean… Sally, please it’s the least you could do’ Mr. Herrit said as he ushered me into his living room.
After half an hour of staring, he finally fell into a nap.
‘Sally! Now’s your chance! Sally! Get outta there girl! Don’t get hurt like your mum said you would! Move! Now! Sally! Time is running out! Sally! Gooooo!’ I said internally.
I made a run for the back door, without hesitation and no looking back, I‘m through the other side of the fence. Our home. Safe. At last… Or was I?...
