Chapter One
Memento Vivere - Remember to Live
Clara swore under her breath, and glanced down at her wristwatch for what must have been the hundredth time; the dial read half-past nine. She would give her friend five more minutes, she decided, after that she would give up and go home. Clara had tried calling, but her friend had not answered, so now she sat shivering outside in the garden of the overcrowded pub.
She would have normally found a comfortable place to sit inside, but after spending the most of five hours in a crowded train compartment with four loud and obnoxious businessmen and their reeking cologne, she welcomed the solitude and fresh air.
The almost freezing temperatures however, were not as welcomed. The only warmth she had came from her peacoat and the pint she had ordered about an hour ago, but even now the cold had stolen most of their warmth – well relative warmth. She chastised herself for not dressing more warmly, the blouse and knee-length skirt she wore beneath her coat weren't exactly weather appropriate.
What was keeping her?
Marie was not known for her punctuality – her looks most definitely, but not her timekeeping that was for sure. It was not uncommon for her to be late, usually around the ten to fifteen minute mark, but never this late.
She took a deep breath and exhaled a wispy cloud; perhaps is she were in a better mood this would have made her laugh – as a child she had always pretended, on cold days such as these, that she was a dragon. If I were a dragon, she thought, I would not be sitting on a frozen metal chair that's for sure. Her exposed legs had lost their feeling ages ago and now felt numb, and the chair had yet to warm up from her body heat, but it was so cold out that Clara doubted it ever would.
Marie, she begged, hurry the bloody hell –
Her head snapped up from looking down at her pale frozen legs as an uncomfortable chill, one that had nothing to do with the freezing temperatures, ran down the length of her spine. Heart pounding, she subtly let her gaze sweep the entire length of the garden.
The warm light from inside the pub spilled out from the small row of windows, casting light on the patches of yellow, almost dead, grass growing between the stepping stones of the path leading around the building.
The lamppost across on the other side of the road flickered once, the two tall dark brick buildings behind it were as still as statues; their windows dark, curtains drawn, no signs of life from within. The road and pavement were empty, save for a discarded crisp packet, caught by a light breeze, slowly making its way down the hill.
Satisfied that she was alone, Clara let the breath she had been holding slowly out before taking a sip of her drink to steady her nerves.
BAM!
Clara jolted, sloshing the beer over the side of her mug onto her jacket, and snapped her head to the direction of the noise.
The door of the pub sung back on its hinges and crashed into the wall of the alcove as two young men came tumbling out, both roaring with laughter and leaning heavily on one another for support. Even in their drunken state, they must have noticed the shock of their arrival on Clara's face, because the next moment their laughter came to an abrupt halt and the taller of the two muttered a quick apology, before they continued on their way stumbling down the short path to the road and up the hill still laughing.
Heart still pounding, Clara breathed a sigh of relief, and with a shaking hand set her mug back on the table.
Just breathe. You're fine, it's just been a long day.
Fishing her mobile from her coat pocket, she typed a message to her friend as quickly as her numb fingers would allow. Seriously, where the hell are you!?
21:42
Sod this! I'm going home.
Debating whether she should inform Marie of this, or just let her figure it out for herself when she finally came . . . if at all. Deciding against the possible dramatic tale Marie would come up with and complain to her, no doubt Marie would place herself in the favourable light as the selfless protagonist, and make it seem as if she had been the one to wait all evening, not Clara.
I'm going home. Call me tomorrow.
Quickly finishing the rest of her drink, she stood a moment and let the feeling return to her legs, before setting off toward home. With a stomach full of the last of her beer and the movement of walking her limbs began to regain a bit of warmth; her thoughts drifted, the tempting thought of a quick shower and the comfort of her bed were calling her home.
Perhaps if she were not so cold and tired, she would have had enough energy to have felt annoyed at being stood up by her friend, instead all she felt was disappointment. Their friendship over the past few years, it would seem, had begun to disintegrate since leaving college to attend to different universities. She had always given Marie a certain amount of leeway as far as their friendship was concerned. It sometimes felt as if Marie expected her to listen to every little problem, every recount of the fights she had with her boyfriend, and remember all she had ever said and done down to the last detail; whereas if Clara had gone to Marie about a problem, she would not have the time to care.
Clara sighed, she'd figure it out tomorrow.
She surveyed the area around her, making sure she was unaccompanied on her way back, every shadow an opportunity it felt like for something to suddenly appear - her heart beat a little faster at the thought. Just breathe, it's no use getting yourself worked up.
Then just as suddenly as it had come on the last time, she felt the uneasiness creep back up her spine; she felt it on the back of her neck, the feeling of being watched, of something or someone behind her, she felt it in her stomach, the impulse to turn around, but fought it. Just barely daring to breathe she strained to listen behind her, there was the sound of her footsteps, but there was also something else.
Clara turned right when she reached the end of the road, then cut across to the other side of the road and walked in the narrow patch of grass, quieting her footsteps.
There!
She had heard it – a second pair of footsteps!
Her heart beat faster as adrenalin began flowing in her veins. She was getting closer to her flat, but it was still about a ten minutes' walk – no that was the last place she wanted to be followed to.
Breathe, just breathe.
Knowing she'd have to look back to confirm there was someone behind her or if it was just her imagination – either providing little comfort. Taking a left, she glanced down the street – no cars, no people in sight.
It's not even that late! Where the hell is everyone?
A sinking feeling began in the pit of her stomach, looking ahead she decided she'd turn right at the end of the block and glance behind her just as she turned the corner of the building.
Five steps.
Clara swallowed down the lump forming in her throat, her mouth going dry.
Four steps.
A sense of dread sunk in her limbs making them feel heavy.
Three steps.
She let out a shaky breath she hadn't noticed she'd been holding in.
Two steps.
She took in a deep breath.
One.
The sight she saw just before rounding the corner made her heart stop; there was someone following behind her, and had been for the last three blocks. True fear begun to pool in her joints as adrenalin shook her whole body and her mind began screaming to run – and she did. Running faster than she ever had in any gym class, primary through secondary school combined, she sped down the pavement and turned at the first street available, to her disappointment it led her down an alleyway.
Great Clara, just lead them to a nice isolated spot so they can murder you!
Her thoughts racing almost as fast as she ran – she needed to get back out onto a main road where there were lights and hopefully people. Taking another turn, a stitch developing in her side as her breaths came in short gasps. Promising herself that once this was over, and if she were still alive, she would take up regular exercise.
Maybe, just maybe if she could manage to double back, she thought, she could outflank the creep following her. The stitch continuously worsened the longer she ran, if she couldn't keep running she'd have to find a place to hide. Darting past a row of industrial sized bins, the thought popped into her head, with no time to think it through, she seized the opportunity and dived behind them. It was a tight squeeze with less than fifty centimetres between the bin and the brick wall, but she made it.
The sound of her heart beat pounded so loudly in her ears, she would not be surprised if even the person following her could hear it. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself, all she received was a lung full of the putrid stench emanating from the bin. Trying not to gag, she pressed her back against the brick wall behind her, she waited and listened.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Maybe I'm just going mad.
Every little noise was magnified in the near silence – the liquid dripping out from beneath the bin and onto the wet ground from the earlier rain was as loud as a ticking clock in a silent room.
Drip . . .
Perhaps I have gone mad.
Drip . . .
Did I just run away from a random person out for a stroll?
Drip . . .
Brilliant! Only twenty-one and already going senile!
Drip . . .
Releasing the breath she had been holding, she allowed herself to relax just a fraction.
Drip . . . drip . . . dri-
The sound of approaching footsteps drowned out the next drip. Clara clapped her hand over her mouth and nose to stop her ragged breaths from coming out in little clouds. Her heart froze as she crouched down to make sure the top of her head was not visible over the top of the bin. Peeking through the small gap between the bin she hid behind and the bin to her right, she waited as the steps grew nearer.
A shadow appeared on the ground, the odd shape stretching to reveal the form of a person – tall, and by the width probably a man. Next the toe of a shiny black dress shoe emerged, turned slightly and stopped just as it came halfway into view, only a few metres away. The person, definitely a man, stood with most of his body angled away from her, from what was visible through the gap, he was tall and wore a dark suit.
Clara's heart was pounding at an erratic pace but she dared not move, to not blink, to not even breath – she was too scared to, even if she had wanted to. She wished she had had some sort of weapon, anything, pepper spray even. Thinking fast, the only item she had on her that could be fashioned into a weapon would be her shoes, but quickly dismissed the frantic thought – even if she could undo the straps without drawing attention to her hiding spot, she doubted the four centimetre heels would prove very useful.
Ever so slowly the man turned to face the front of the bins; Clara would have probably been able to make out the features of his face then, but her eyes had shut tight in a vain attempt to remain unnoticed. It was stupid, she knew, but it was not a conscious decision – she used to do the same as a small child while playing sardines with her friends, thinking this made her invisible.
Silence. The sound of the drips were the only sign of time passing in the silence.
Just when she began once more to doubt the man's existence and question her own sanity, he started forward again toward the end of the alley. His footsteps rhythmic as the ticking of a clock, soft and measured, with the capacity to lull anyone into a false sense of security. The sound, as faint as it was, echoed off the walls of the alley and reverberated in Clara's chest where her heart should have been beating at a regular pace. She began counting in her head when the sound of his footsteps faded that farther away he went, before eventually turning the corner.
One pink elephant. . .
Two pink elephants. . .
Three pink elephants. . .
Finally opening her eyes, she allowed herself to slowly let out the breath she had been holding, her lungs greedily took in more air.
Eight pink elephants. . .
Nine pink elephants. . .
Ten. . .
She quickly rose and made her way around to the side of the bin, peaking around the corner – the coast was clear. Slowly stepping out from her hiding spot, she then tip-toed down the alley the way she had come, back towards the direction of the road, as quietly as possible. When she reached the end she glanced back to make certain she was far enough away that by resuming a normal walk before jogging would not echo too loudly and immediately give away her location.
Clara froze – a deer caught in headlights.
He stood at the other end of the alley, stone faced and as still as a statue.
The man stared, in the dim light of a far off lamppost Clara could now see most of his features, his dark calculating eyes, the age lines just beginning to show around his forehead and mouth – everything about this man was dark and menacing. Danger.
The man took a step forward, but before his other foot had the chance to hit the ground, Clara was running in the opposite direction, and kept running, too quickly to know where she was headed - anywhere away from him seemed good. She began to dig her mobile out of her coat pocket, her fingers cramping from the strain of fishing it out while frantically running, with one last tug it was free from her pocket.
Her thumb darted across the screen trying to trace the pattern to unlock the phone, the task proving more difficult than usual; the movement of running made her thumb jump around the screen as her hands shook from the adrenalin.
Clara felt the heel of her shoe slip forward beneath her as she turned another corner, she quickly tried to correct it, but a second later it slipped out from under her and sent her stumbling forward. She fell awkwardly, her knee making full contact with the solid ground, her mobile was sent flying from her grasp, her hands scrapping the pavement as she tried to catch herself before landing on her side. She heard her mobile hit the pavement in multiple pieces as if the back of the case had popped off and the battery had fallen out.
Kneeling she tried to recover from the fall and regain her centre of balance before turning to find her phone. Just then she heard footsteps round the corner and there appeared the man, his gaze met hers with a determined predatory look.
Oh shit!
Clara shot upwards off the pavement, stumbling to get back on her feet, and ran; with each step it felt as if the man gained two, she wanted to look back but feared how close he might actually be, it already felt as if she could feel his breath on the back of her neck.
How the hell could he run so fast? He looks about fifty!
The frigid night air stung at the cuts and scrapes across her palms and legs, her breaths came in as shallow gasps, her left knee throbbed, but she didn't have a choice, run or probably be. . .
Shooting around the next corner, the sight she saw next offered her a glimpse of hope; at the end of the two buildings either side of her was the light from a main road and farther ahead what looked might be a park. Pushing herself to run faster, she reached the end of the buildings and risked a glance behind her.
Nothing, absolutely no one was there.
A small hope began to grow within her chest as she made it to the edge of the pavement, turning back to the park however, that small hope was immediately crushed – he stood not ten metres ahead. Pitching forward, she stumbled to come to a halt, a bright blinding light appeared suddenly in her peripheral vision just as a force as solid as a brick wall collided with her and she was sent airborne.
Everything the next moment was dark and eerily quiet as the world had stopped moving beneath her but still felt to be rotating nauseatingly around her. Time felt to have slowed almost to a stop, she opened her eyes, or she thought she had – everything was dark. She blinked and dark fuzzy shapes appeared, slowly coming into focus to reveal the side of the kerb a short distance away. Everything looked flat as if it were a reflection in a mirror – depthless, and the colour seemed not quite right. Shifting her gaze she saw a few blurred lampposts closely grouped together and on their sides, a park bench hovered at an odd angle in the middle of the dark sky, greenish cloud-like shapes melted into the darkness around it.
The side of her head resting on the pavement began to throb painfully as pressure repeatedly built and slowly subsided; she blinked to dispel the moisture gathering in her eyes, it felt like an hour had passed before they opened again and she realised she was partially on her back, and that she was on the pavement near the side of the road.
What the –
She gasped as pain shot through the length of her body, spreading as if she were being engulfed by flames, everything burning and painfully numb at the same time. The cool damp ground beneath her offered little relief. Panic quickly set in as she began shaking uncontrollably, her breath came in as short gasps and out as fine mist. Down the entire length of one side of her body felt like it was on the verge of shattering, but the moment never came that it actually did, she felt like she was slowly falling apart; the pavement beneath her fluctuating from feeling ice cold to smouldering hot in a matter of seconds.
Warmth crawled from beneath her shoulder and up through the collar of her coat before traveling down the length of her arm before her. She tried to move her left hand that lay numbly a few inches from her head, her fingers barely twitched before pain shot through them and into her shoulder. Warm liquid crawled across the pavement from beneath her pooling around her hand, she watched as gentle ripples disturbed the smooth surface of the pool every time she exhaled; deeper ripples appeared, growing larger, until a pair of dark leather shoes appeared. Her vision wavering, she watched as the thick liquid – her blood, merged around the soles of the shoes.
"And we finally meet, Clara Knightly." A deep and measured voice whispered.
A wave of nausea hit her just as another sharp pain shot through her, gasping for air that never quite reached her lungs as black spots appeared in her vision, she looked toward the man that would haunt her nightmares, just as the overwhelming sensation of falling backwards and the darkness finally took her.