Sweet Revenge thriller

Chapter Eleven

I CANNOT REFER TO my new psychiatrist as a faceless woman in a horror scene. Or a psychotic psychiatrist with a warped sense of humour. Or a woman pretending to be trapped in a torturous hell-hole. This is obviously how she wishes me to think of her, for what purpose I have no bloody idea! But, I won't play her sick game. I will come up with another way of dealing with my thoughts of her.

Then a reference I can handle appears... the girl in the dark room. Yes, that reference is profoundly more palatable. But, for the love of God, what's that dungeon all about? No one lives like that, do they? How the fuck could anyone who lives like that, or presents that image, help me?

And then it flashes into my head.

She DID help me.

The girl in the dark room told me I had to find out about my parents lives.

I scoff at my stupidity. That is a pretty bloody obvious place to start!

* * *

To understand if it was a random killing or my parents were targeted, I start at home, their home. Their house is now mine of course and I haven't done anything about it. I haven't put it on the market or rented it out. The fact is, I have only been there once since that horrific day and that was to sort out my parents personal documents for their accountant, Ryan. This is where I know I must start and firstly I decide to visit their neighbours. I spend an agonising night wondering how I will cope going back again to Cottonsdale.

The trip down to the village is like being forced out of a warm cocoon against my will into an arctic blizzard. Trepidation rattles every nerve in my body but as we pass landmarks, delightful memories of my family and times we have shared together creep into my sub conscious. But they always morph into the afternoon of the massacre. I have to pull over three times to wipe angrily at the tears that spill down my face at the tragic end of my beautiful soft mother who wouldn't so much as hurt a fly and my caring father.

I pull up outside our house. The gardens look superb. I have not only kept my mother's gardener on, but I have increased his hours for what reason I am not sure. I guess if one believes in the afterlife, my mother can pop down and see her much loved garden whenever she wishes.

Floppy bounds ahead of me panting and scratching at the wooden door. While I get my key out of my handbag, she sits patiently waiting. She won't get what she is looking for. And not for the first time do I wish I had the brain capacity of a dumb animal like Floppy. She will race through every room, tear off outside and when she cannot find my mother, then that will be that!

As I put the key in the door I discover it's is not locked. I push the door open and am immediately welcomed by the aroma of freshly made coffee, biscuits and scones. I damned near faint. What the fuck? It's like walking back into the past.

When Millie pops her head around the door of the kitchen I nearly plant her one. Just for a nanosecond I had experienced life as it was and I was expecting my mother to say, 'Athena, how lovely to see you,' and she would engulf me into her arms.

Instead Millie, the Heslop's granddaughter says, 'I thought I'd make you some scones. Granny told me you would be coming home today.' And she says it with such a grin on her face that I know her brain is too limited to understand that coming home today could in fact be the hardest thing I have had to endure since that awful day.

I force my features into a smile. 'How thoughtful of you, Millie. I wonder, could you be an angel and see if Mrs. Heslop...ah, Granny, can pop over for a coffee?'

Millie nods and grins displaying several top teeth that protude giving her an overbite but a very cute smile. Millie literally skips out of my house and I hear her calling out to Mrs. Heslop in the singing style of Mary had a little lamb.