Save Her, Abigail Osborne [ebook reader for surface pro txt] 📗

before the gas ignited, a small roar and then a ring of blue fire burst forth and lit up the room. She had an irrational urge to touch it, to feel the burn of the blazing fire on her skin. Switching off the hob, she twisted the knob until she could hear the hissing of the gas. Positioning the cigarette on top of the junk mail that had been left serendipitously on the side, she quickly left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her. When only moments before she been disparaging the small room, now she was grateful for it. According to Google, the smaller the room the faster it would fill up with gas. She rushed to the front door, heaving the bag of money with her, she needed to be well away before the house went up in flames.

Opening the door, she realised that the gas was more potent than she realised. The air that raced towards her was bracing and clean. She took a deep breath and her lungs gratefully drank the pure air. As she raced back to the car, the only sound was the hoot of a nearby bird, the rustle of leaves tossed around by the autumnal wind and her heels clip-clopping on the tarmac. She knew she had done the right thing. The house would be destroyed and from its ashes, they would rise, leaving behind the past and starting afresh.

57

It was the ache in Flora’s head that pulled her from sleep. She felt like someone was pounding her head with their fists. Once again, she chided herself for drinking red wine: it always punished her viciously. Her temples throbbed and she almost cried out in pain. Cradling her head in her hands, she waited for it to become more bearable. After a few minutes, the sharp pain dulled, and she could open her eyes. It was almost pitch-black except for the faint glow from a distant street light. She was in a car… Sophie’s car.

Where was Sophie? Why was she in her car? Flora groped through the murky recesses of her mind, trying to work out what her last memory was. Red wine, running down a wall. Sophie on the phone crying. Agreeing to leave. That was it. They were leaving, that’s why they were in the car.

She struggled to work out where she was. The light was so faint and coming from behind the car so she could not see anything out of the front window. Just all-consuming blackness, like she’d be swallowed up. The door opened and Sophie leapt into the driver’s seat, she lugged a heavy bag onto the back seat. Then, before Flora could say anything, the car was reversing, the wheels squealed in protest as she launched them backwards, turning hard. A faint, indistinct smell accompanied her, Flora tried to work out what it was but was distracted as the headlights lit up the outside and she realised where they were. She turned and had only a fleeting glimpse of her house before they passed the street sign for Trelawney Close and she was flung back into her seat by the speed of Sophie’s acceleration.

‘What’s going on?’ Fear and confusion were only increasing the pounding in Flora’s skull. It felt like a battering ram was being launched at her head at frequent intervals.

‘Nothing, nothing. It’s all part of the plan.’ Sophie drove furiously, swerving around a silver Vauxhall on a blind bend.

Flora swallowed the bitter bile that had risen in her throat and closed her eyes. As they lurched around a corner, she was forced to open them again: having them closed made it worse. ‘Sophie, slow down. I’m going to be sick.’

Sophie did not slow down and she did not respond. Her eyes were manic and fixed on the road. Strands of her long blonde hair were falling out of her bun. She would be horrified if she could see herself.

Flora braced herself as best she could. ‘Sophie, what is the plan?’

‘The plan to leave. Tonight. Remember?’

‘Yes. But what are we doing now?’

Sophie did not answer straight away. ‘Can’t you just trust me?’ she asked. ‘I need to focus. I really don’t have the time to explain it to you and answer all of your questions. Just know that I have spent a lot of time plotting my escape, planning for each scenario. Like I said, it was all that got me through the beatings.’ Sophie’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, her knuckles going white. The electronics in the car gave off a gentle blue light, enough for Flora to get another glimpse of the dark marks lining Sophie’s throat.

Flora felt the gut-punch of shame at all her friend had endured alone. It strengthened her conviction that they were doing the right thing. Her resolve had been ebbing away without the synthetic courage the wine had given her. She had felt scared of the unknown, of leaving the life she had known behind. She took Sophie’s hand and squeezed it because she was unable to find the words to say how sorry she was for letting her down and for not seeing that she had been suffering all this time.

‘Okay, I’m sorry. I trust you,’ said Flora.

Sophie didn’t answer, just gave Flora a small smile and continued to drive aggressively, as if she was running from something. She supposed they were running from their old lives. Flora just wished she knew where they were running to. All the plans for her future had been smashed to smithereens by the violence of one man and the overwhelming power of a wealthy family.

58

Her mother’s house looked even worse to the adult eye. Sophie had always known that she had lived in a run-down council estate but the decaying flat in front of her looked more like a building that had been abandoned after a raid. Bin bags littered the pathways and graffiti decorated every inch of wall. Had it always smelt like a urinal?