Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 8

The alarm trilled shrilly in my ear, sounding less like an alarm clock and more like an air raid siren alerting me to danger.

Run! Take shelter!

I wished there was somewhere I could run to. I felt trapped, cornered and every minute I waited for the attack that I was sure was inevitable. I had spent the past week living in a self-imposed Hell, sensing my deterioration more every day and alternating between sheer undiluted panic and feeling numb.

That night, after Harper had left, I sat in my car for some time, feeling nothing but this awful emptiness. I had parked in a bus stop lay-by, having dropped him off along the high street. Staring out the window, I had watched as cars sped past, headlights all a blur and the noise of the traffic muffled, as if someone had flicked the volume down on the television. The numbness reached down to the tips of my toes and I felt completely lost, as if someone had just told me bad news of a bereavement and I was stunned by the grief. In a way, I think I was grieving. Grieving for the marriage I had just destroyed in one mad, selfish moment. Grieving for the Megan who had been stripped of all her beliefs and morals so very easily by the touch of a man I hardly knew. I couldn't think straight. I knew I had to consider everything very carefully; after all I had to explain to Brandon where I had been. Did I smell different? Look different? I had to be Megan again, only I was so confused that I wasn't sure I knew who Megan was anymore.

My head was nothing but a jumble of jagged thoughts and no matter how much I tried, all I could think about was him and what we had done and how strange and disjointed everything had seemed afterwards.

After finishing, when I had desperately tried to stifle my moans as I buried my head into his neck, Harper had put me back down on my shaky feet and then he had stepped back, as if he needed some distance between us, zipping up his flies as I had looked numbly down at all my things strewn about the floor by my feet. I bent down and began to gather everything together, and whilst doing this, he remained where he was, just watching me as I struggled to pick everything up. Standing up, I looked over at him, not sure what to say. After all, I wasn't used to situations like this. He clearly was, but he said nothing, fuelling my unease as he avoided my eyes.

"Um...do you need a lift anywhere?" I blurted out finally. Why did I even say that? I didn't want him in my car. I wasn't sure I wanted him anywhere near me.

Surprisingly he nodded. "Sure. Maybe just drop me off up the road?"

Exhaling deeply, I made an effort to raise a small stiff smile and opened the door, throwing all my stuff onto the back seat and by the time I was in the driver's seat and buckled up, he was in the passenger seat, looking just as uncomfortable as I felt. We had said nothing to each other as we drove through the city streets and I had kept my eyes firmly upon the road ahead, struggling to remain focused on where I was going. But I was always aware that he was there, sitting in the same seat that Brandon sometimes sat in; that is whenever he reluctantly let me drive us anywhere.

Just when I thought my head might explode with the silent tension, Harper had shifted lightly in his seat and pointed to a spot just across from the set of traffic lights where I waited, willing for the lights to go green so I could end this nightmare journey.

"Just pull up over there."

I did as he asked, glancing around as I pulled the car in to the kerb. I didn't really know this area; it was just somewhere I drove through to and from work. I recognised shop fronts; I knew where all the speed cameras waited for any unsuspecting pedal-happy driver and where all the traffic lights were. But whatever lay beyond what I could see along the high street, I knew nothing at all.

"So you live around here?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"No."

I looked sharply at him, wondering what it was I had done to deserve his very distant attitude. He unbuckled his seat belt and cast his eyes over me very briefly, as if he we obligated to as opposed to wanting to.