The Mute and the Liar (27 page)

What
if
I
never
get
out
of
here?

No
one
will
help
me.
I
am
locked
here,
in
this
room
that
is
not
a
room
because
it
is
the sea. The green and blue colours
around
me tornado into one.
The
carpet
rocks
from
side
to
side and drags
me in.
I
am sinking. The
very air
around
me
plunges
into
my
lungs
like
water.
I
can't
breathe.
I
am
lost
in
the
middle
of
the
sea,
crashing
against
me,
pulling
me
in,
drowning
me.
I
am
alone.

The
only
thing
keeping
me
from
drowning,
the
only
thing
that
gives
me
the
will
to
keep
swimming,
to
keep
breathing,
is
Kit's
song.
It
keeps
going,
and
I
jump
for
air, desperate
to
hear
at
least
one
more
note.

In
this
endless
blue
expanse,
Kit's
song
flutters
over
me,
every
word
a
million
haunting
butterflies.

They
locked
you
in the
birdcage

Because
they
knew
you
would
stay
inside

Your
enemy
is
not
your
captor

Your
only
enemy
is
your
pride

They
locked
you
in the
birdcage

To
make
you
sing
them
to
sleep

But you're
too
afraid
of
falling

To
even
try
to
leave

They
locked
you
in the
birdcage

And
made
you
call it home

But
they
didn't
break
off your
wings

You
broke
them
on
your
own

You
won't fly
away,

because
you
were
going
to
fall all
along

So
you
made
wishes
on
your
feathers

and
sang
them
the
birdcage
song.

1st
March 2011

9:30 AM

“P
inch, punch, first
day of
the
month!
”
I
feel
warmth
against
my
arm
and
a
slight
stinging,
and
then
something
hits
me.
With
great
effort,
I
manage
to
force
open
my
eyes,
and
the
ceiling
slips
into
focus. It
is
an
unfamiliar
ceiling.
It
is
not
my
ceiling.

At
first
I
struggle
to
grasp
where
I
am,
why
I
was
sleeping in this
unfamiliar
bed,
or
who
this
strange
woman
is
that
is
standing
next
to
it. Buzzing, colliding thoughts ricochet
around
my head
until clear
ones
surface.

Oh yes.
I
remember
now.

I
am
trapped
in
this
house
in
the
middle
of
the
countryside
with
two
criminals
and an
opera
singer.

Because that
happens
to
normal
people, right?

“
Good
morning!
Do
you
want
to
do
some
painting
with
us?
We're
going
to
be
painting
a
wall
next
door
with
anything
we
like.
It
will
be
fun!
Obviously,
have
breakfast
first
though.
We
all
had
it
earlier,
but
I
didn't
want
to
wake
you.
”

Kit
goes
on
to
explain
she
has
set
out
several
boxes
of
cereal,
some
fruit
and some
toast
on the
table
in
the kitchen. She
spins
out
of
the
room.

I
look
over
to
the
vanity
table
and
see
the
various
toiletries
laid
out,
including
a
toothbrush
and
a
hairbrush.
I
walk
over,
and
tug
the
hairbrush
through
my
tangled
curls,
which
really
only
makes
my
hair
look
worse.
I
can't
be
bothered
to
change
into
some
of
Kit's
clothes
right
now,
and
head
downstairs
in
Kit's
nightdress.
It's
far
too
short,
so
I
keep
having
to
tug
it
down.
I
feel
so
exposed.
I
might
as
well
just
be
wearing
a
belt.

I
find
my
way
downstairs,
reach
the
kitchen
and
make
myself
a
bowl
of
cereal.
It
feels
wrong
though.
I
shouldn't
be
in
this
house.
I
shouldn't
be
doing
something
so
ordinary,
when
my
life
is
in
danger.
I
feel
like
I'm
doing
everything
wrong,
like
I'm
walking
backwards.

Worried.
That's
how
I
should
feel.
I
should
be
shaking.
I
should
be
scared.
My
stomach
should
be
weighed
down
with
so
many
terrified
butterflies
that
it
should
be
threatening
to
cave
in.
But
strangely,
I'm
completely
calm.
There
is
something
comforting
about
this house. It has that unnerving sense of unfamiliarity, but at the same time
it
has
the
warm,
reassuring
atmosphere
every house
should
have.

Of
course
there
are
moments
when
the
real
reason
I
am
here
flashes
across
my mind, or
the
stinging thought
of
my father.
But
there are also
a
few
moments
where
I
forget.
In
fact,
remembering
doesn't
hurt
that
much.
What
hurts
more is
the
thought
that
I
actually
forgot.

I
thought
about
all
of
my
possibilities
last
night.
I
searched
the
whole
house,
but
nothing
gave
me
any
hope.
Kit
appears
to
be
a
social
recluse.
There
is
next
to
no
technology
in
this
house,
save
for
several
large
televisions
dotted
here
and there.
Apart
from that,
this
house
is
completely
disconnected
from
the
outside
world.
There
are
no
phones,
no
computers.
It
seems
Jayce
deliberately
chose
this
house
to
ensure
I
couldn't
contact
anyone.
He
threw
away
Nick's
mobile
phone
before
we
got
back
into
the
car
yesterday.
So
that
means
that
the only
person
with
a
phone
is
Jayce
himself.

I've considered
telling Kit.
The thing is,
she
seems
too
immersed
in
Jayce's
world
to
even
begin
to
believe
me.
She
would
think
I
was
crazy
if
I
told
her
that
her
precious
'Jaycie'
was
a
psychotic
murderer.

No.
It's
best
if
I
avoid
doing
or
saying
anything
that
will
give
me
unwanted
attention.

My
only
real
choice
is
just
to
go
along
with
this
until
all
suspicion
around
me
withers
away.
If
Jayce
starts
to
trust
me,
or
even
to
trust
his
own
intelligence,
then
he
is
far
more
likely
to
slip
up.
I
know
I
am
somewhere
on
the
outskirts
of
Bath,
so
if
I
could
just
somehow
get
out
of
this
house
without
being
seen,
I
could
head into the centre
and
get
help from
there.