Playing Dead: Book One of The Whitechapel Chronicles

Chapter 22

If I hadn't spotted the road sign to the street in which I had recently lived, I don't know that I would have recognised the place. The houses were all there as they had been before, but what was once a place of uniform suburban perfection, was now drenched in darkness and I felt a tremor of fear ripple through me as I stood at the end of the road, as if it was not I who was the predator here, but the road itself and what it stood for. As I scanned the street, I could not help but feel uneasy as if I no longer belonged here in the place I had called home not so long ago. How quickly had I become a stranger to everything I had once known?

After leaving the man's house, I had fled quickly, running with the shadows and keeping out of the light as much as I could. Every now and then a car would sweep its headlights over me and I would hide in shop doorways or alleys, not able to trust myself near people despite having satisfied my thirst already. I knew how quickly and easily it could overcome me and I couldn't risk losing my mind for a second time this night.

When I had finally reached somewhere I recognised I was surprised and more than a little dismayed to realise that my home was not as far away from Harper's house of horrors as I had thought it would be. Little more than seven miles separated the two houses and yet they could not have been more different. And the strange thing was that the further I ventured away from my prison and the closer I got to my home, the more uneasy I felt. With every step, I could not shake this nagging feeling that I was heading in the wrong direction, yet how could that be when everything I knew and trusted was in front of me?

Lurking behind a large oak tree at the end of the road, I could see my house and Brandon's car outside, brand new silver Lexus ES that he had practically salivated over when he had picked it up. Moonlight glinted off chrome and there was a malevolent gleam to it as if it was not a car at all, but some guardian beast, protecting the house from any trespasser. Outside I could see some other cars I recognised. Clara's for one and also Daniel's, Brandon's friend from work and golf buddy. I sniffed and bit my lip. I didn't like Dan. I never had. Too loud, too obnoxious, too full of himself. But even I had to admit that I was glad he was here with Clara, supporting Brandon just when he needed his friends the most. I didn't want Brandon to be alone; I don't think I could have coped with that.

Eyeing the street warily I decided that if I was going to do this, and to be fair I wasn't quite sure exactly what I was going to do now that I was here, then I would not be so brazen as to approach the house from the front. It seemed too risky and far too dangerous. I needed coverage; a place to hide whilst I spied on my husband and my old life.

Scaling fences wasn't quite as hard as I thought it would be and finding my way into a neighbours garden, I kept to the rear of properties, stealthily stalking through beautifully landscaped gardens until finally I realised I was right next door to my house; in the garden of our direct neighbours, Joanna and Aleksander, a Polish couple who we only ever exchanged polite nods and stifled pleasantries with, whenever there was a chance meeting as we went to work in the mornings. Their garden was strewn with children's toys and bikes, and in the corner was a rather impressive wooden playhouse complete with patio area outside. Sometimes we would hear the children's laughter as we sat in our own garden and see the top of a pig-tailed head popping up over the fence as the girls bounced and bobbed manically on their trampoline. Not so long ago I had yearned for a pig-tailed Megan or tousled haired Brandon all of our own, but now standing here in the shadows of our neighbours garden I yearned for the four warm bodies within, their four hearts pumping together like some alluring sonnet.

Closing my eyes, I suppressed the cramp that was threatening to attack and grabbed hold of the fence, easily pulling myself up and over until I was standing in my own garden - our garden - and the thought of being so close to Brandon almost consumed me. Well, it would have done if the stench hadn't consumed me first. Hovering in the tall bushes, I wrinkled up my nose in disgust as the smell of some feral animal reached my senses. In fact, it was so strong that I held a hand over my face, feeling slightly overwhelmed and nauseous and I knew instinctively that this wasn't just the smell from one animal, but from many. I thought back to the urban fox I had seen outside and how these wily mammals seemed to plague our neighbours by digging up their flowerbeds and defecating over their coiffured lawns, in some kind of middle finger salute to their beautiful, expensive homes. I concentrated on breathing out of my mouth and crept behind the branches, desperate to get just a little closer. From here, I could see the light on in the kitchen and was momentarily stunned when I thought about standing in that room, not so long ago, pressing my face against the glass and petrified at noises in my garden and shadows shifting in the darkness. Now I was that noise. I was one of those shadows. The thought made my chest ache with longing and despair at how quickly I had found myself on the outside looking in.