The Mute and the Liar (72 page)

He
tightens
his
grip
around
my
hand
even
more
and
I
let
out
a
gasp.
I
n
one
liquid
movement
he
wrenches
my
arm
all
the
way
around,
then
pulls
it around my neck. He’s
making me strangle myself.

I
can’t
help it;
I
let
out
a
grazing
scream.

I
thrash
about
and
struggle
against
him
with
my
last
pencil
shavings
of
energy.
But
it’s
no
use.

“
You don’t
even
speak. Who in their
right
mind
would
like
you?
”
He
pulls
me
into
him
so
my
back
is
pressed
against
his
chest.
He’s
still
wrenching
my
arm
around.
Desperately,
I
try
to
struggle,
but
he
holds
me
in
this
mousetrap
effortlessly.
With
his
free
hand,
I
feel
him
fish
for
something
in
his
pocket.

“
I’ll
lay
it
out
straight
for
you.
Maybe
then
you’ll
actually
understand.
It.
Was. All. An. Act.
I
knew
you’d be less
likely
to
attack if
you started
to
think
I
was
on
your
side.
Everything
was
leading
up
to
this
-
the
moment
when
I
tell
you
how
it
really
is,
show
you
how
good
a
liar
I
really
am.
The
moment
when
I
shoot
you
because
your
useless
dad
didn’t
fulfill
the
ultimatum
for
your
release.
”
He
pushes
the
cold
end
of
what
can
only
be
a
knife
into
the
side
of
my
neck.

Jayce
speaks
again,
this
time
in
a
slow
whisper
where
every
letter
is
elongated.
“
You thought
you
could replace
Becky…
but
you
mean
nothing
to
me.
”

Liar.

I’m
sure
I
heard
someone
whisper
that,
but
I
don’t
know
where
it
came
from.

Liar.

There
it
is
again.
It’s
a
raspy
and
croaky
voice,
but
I
can
hear
the
word
perfectly.

“
L
iar
!
”

It takes
me
a
while
to
realise
that the
raspy
voice
I’m hearing is
my own.

No, no, no, no. This can't be
happening.
This
isn't
happening.

He pushes
the knife
closer.
I
scream.
I
scream
for my
life.

T
ime
was
running
past
us
on
his
daily
journey
when
the
I
let
out
the
shattering
scream
that
sent
the
birds
behind
us
flapping
away
in
frantic
squawking
from
their
now
drunkenly
swaying
tree.
I
saw
him;
he
was
right
there
in
front
of
us.
He
slowed
right
down,
swivelling
his
clockwork
neck
to
get
a
good
look
at
us.
What
happened?
He
quizzes
us,
as
all
twelve
numbers
around
his
face
twist
ing
themselves
into
crooked
question
marks.
He’s
clicking
his
tongue
to
the
beat
of
every
passing
second.
I
don’t
know,
I
reply.
Shrugging
his
mechanical
shoulders,
he
turns
around
and
s
ets
off
again.
He’s
got
other
places
to
be.
No
time
to
stop.
He
speeds
off,
and
t
he
world
spins
forwards
in
stop-motion
speed
to
make
up
for
the
seconds
we
just
lost.

The
first
thing
that
hits
me
is
that
I’m
still
alive.
It’s
so
stupid,
but
it
hits
me
with
relief.
There
is
no
pain
against
my
neck.
Nothing.
I
open
my
eyes.
They
adjust
to
the
darkness
and
pull
the
world
around
me
into
definition.
Jayce
has
still
got
me
in
this
suffocating
vice-grip
where
my
left
arm
is
twisted
around
my
neck
as
though
I’m
strangling
myself.
And
the
cold
edge
of
the
knife
is
still
pressed
against
my
neck.
I
crane
my
head
to
look
at
him.
H
is
lips
are
tightened
into
a
horizontal
line
and
his
skin
is
slipping
into
a
very
faint
red
colour.
His
green
eyes
are
still
crazed
and
unseeing,
but
now
they’re
burning
through
something up
ahead.

I
follow
his
line
of
sight
and
see
exactly
what
he’s
staring
at.
There’s
someone
in
front
of
us
-
only
about
ten
steps
away,
standing
outside
the
radius
of
light
emanating
from
the
streetlight
behind
us,
meaning
all
I
can
see
is
a
silhouette.
I
think
it’s
a
man.
He’s
broad
with
square
shoulders
and
appears
to
be
wearing
a
uniform;
I’m
guessing
police
uniform.
He’s
tall
–
almost
three
heads
taller
than
me.
He’s
got
a
firm
stance
and
impeccably
straight
posture
that
only
years
of
military
training
could achieve.

That's when
I
realise h
e’s
pointing
a
gun
straight
at
us.

My
hands
have
completely
clammed
up
and
I
can
feel
myself
shaking
again
.
My
breathing
has
become
completely
unhinged
and
uncontrollable.
I’m
literally
panting
and
I
have
to
breathe
out
of
my
mouth
because
the
vice-
grip
Jayce
has
put
me
in
makes
normal
breathing
hurt
too
much.
I
think
I’m
going
to
be
sick.
I
can
hardly
hear
over
the
sound
of
blood
resounding
in
my
ears
.

“
Let
her
go,
”
the
man
demands,
his
voice
unnaturally
steady
for
a
situation
like
this.
But
his
voice
sends
me
into
movement.
I
gasp.
I
know
this
voice.

It’s
the
voice
of
my
father.

It takes a
moment
to
process this.

He’s
actually
here! It’s
him!

I
break
into
a
huge
smile
and
breath
a
sigh
of
relief.
My
heart
rate
slows
down
a
little.

He’s
here!
He’s
come
to
take
me home!

“
Don’t
come
any
closer!
”
Jayce
warns,
tightening
his
arm
around
my
neck,
which
cuts
off
my
breathing
even
more.

“
Let
go
of
her
and
step
away.
”

“
Come
any
closer
and
I’ll
do
it.
I’ll
do
it.
I’ll
really
do
it,
you
just
watch
me.
”
Jayce
is
jabbering.
He
does
that
when
something
throws
him.
Maybe
he
hadn’t
expected
the
police
to
actually
find him.

“
Alicia,
don’t
worry.
I’m
here
now,
”
Father
reassures
me.
He
steps
into
the
pool
of
light
and
his
face
illuminates.
It’s
definitely
him,
except
now
he
looks…
older.
It’s
as
though
he’s
aged
a
few
years
since
the
last
time
I
saw
him.
The
lines
cutting
into
his
forehead
seem
more
prominent
now,
and
his
heavy
eyes
now
rest
on
thick
shadows.
His
whole
face
seems
drawn
and
elongated,
like
someone
has
been
stretching
his
skin
downwards
every
night.
In
fact, in
this
weak,
eerie light, he
looks
almost
skeletal.