The Cunning

3

"Hello?" An impatient voice seeped into Madison's daydream. She blinked, her eyes stinging from lack of sleep. They focused on the disgruntled customer. The clock was just ticking over to half two. She was on her last night shift, the previous weeks' events still fresh in her disordered mind. The feeling of his hands gripping her shoulders came and went like ghosts. It wasn't the fact that it had happened to her that was so scary; it was that she had frozen.

"Sorry, it's been a long night," she mumbled. The man was more annoyed than sympathetic, grunting in response and handing over the money for his cigarettes and vodka. She tipped her head back, wishing she had called in sick and caught up on sleep instead.

The shop remained empty until she finished at three, bringing the horror of working the night shifts to a close and marking the start of a three-day weekend.

"Did you want me to drop you home?" Peter asked, as he routinely did, coming out onto the shop floor. He cleared his throat with a phlegmy cough. Madison grimaced.

"No, thanks," she said, before adding, "I was actually wondering if I could take out a five-pound advance on my wages?" Peter's brows twitched up a fraction.

"What for?"

"A taxi," she replied, silently kicking herself for not lying. His mouth spread into a grin big enough to swallow the rest of his round face.

"Don't be silly," he said, dismissing her request entirely, "I'll drop you off. It's on my way anyway." Madison started to protest, but Peter batted her rejections away. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, no matter what feeble excuses she gave him. They both knew the only reason she didn't want to get in his car was because he was intensely creepy, though neither of them would say that. Instead, she found her lips admitting defeat and thanking him politely. The uneasy feeling she'd had the night of the encounter with the masked man overcame her. Since then, everything was making her jittery, the postman, men in hoods or scarves, even shadows. Peter was probably just trying to be polite, and at least she knew him. He was probably safer than a taxi driver, too.

They engaged in small talk on the short journey. Peter asked all the questions, and Madison replied as vaguely as possible, never one to divulge many facts about her personal life. He asked what she did in her spare time, who she lived with and so on. It was a little too prying for her liking, but she was just grateful he was keeping his hands to himself, both of them wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, where she could see them. All her muscles relaxed when they reached the top of her road.

"Here's fine," she said, interrupting his question about what school she went to. "Thank you for the lift. I'll see you next week." She opened the passenger door, not wanting to lead him directly to her house or give him the chance to offer.

"Oh, no worries," he replied, recovering quickly from her hasty exit. The second the door was closed, he sped off. The absence of his tail lights plunged Madison into the blackness of the night, leaving her to make the short walk alone. It wasn't a long road, with ten houses on each side, but it seemed longer now.

The street lights went off at one in the morning as part of an energy-saving initiative. There were no sounds at all, no cars, no animals, no wind or the rustle of trees from the woods behind the neighbourhood. Madison clung to her bag strap and hurried along. Every shadow looked like a person. A cat stopped, barely visible, in the middle of the road to inspect her before scuttling off back into someone's front garden. The screech of a fox's mating call cut through the silence, Madison nearly dropped to her knees in fright before she realised what it was. Her cheeks burned for no one.

"Get a grip," she hissed to herself, but she moved faster still, almost at the solid black shape of her hedge.

She managed to slide the key in the lock before her body was slammed against the door, knocking the breath out of her lungs. A cloth was pressed to her nose and mouth as a snake constricted around her neck. She desperately clawed at the arm choking her out, but to no avail, the oxygen was slowly cut off.

The last thing Madison registered was how the penetrating scent she was gasping in reminded her of a hospital before her legs were swept out from under her. Gravel embedded into her knees, pain shot up her thighs through the centre of her femur, sinking its claws deep into the marrow. Still she struggled, continuing to twist and pull, flailing her limbs with as much strength as she could muster in an attempt to hurt her attacker. She was at a severe disadvantage on the ground, elbows taking blind swipes at the air.

Her struggles became heavy, limbs moving through honey as the fuzz from the edge of her vision clouded the centre and the gold letterbox on the front door faded to nothing.

*

Who do you think took her? Did Peter park his car and follow her to her front door? Or was someone waiting? Leave your thoughts in the comments and please don't forget to vote, it all helps!