Chapter 39 - Harper

My head is splitting. It’s like there’s an ax buried deep in my skull right across my forehead, and the rest of my head is shattered in a million pieces. A groan escapes my lips and I try to open my eyes.

I’m in my own bed.

Any relief I feel quickly evaporates when I try to move. My hands and legs are bound with rope, keeping me spread eagle over my bed. My heart jumps against my ribcage and the panic starts clouding my vision. I struggle against my restraints but I can hardly even move my wrists more than an inch or so across.

Greg Chesney.

I force my eyes open widen even though the dim winter sunlight makes my entire head ache. I glance around the room, whipping my head back and forth to see if here’s here. He must be here, who else would have tied me up like this?! I glance down and feel a small drop of relief when I see I’m still fully clothed. There’s that, at least.

I whimper and then I hear a sound just outside my window. The old window slides up with a loud scrape and Greg’s face peers in through the opening.

“You’re up!” He says cheerily. I don’t answer. The cold breeze hits me and I shiver. He climbs in through the window and closes it behind him. Why is he using the fire escape?

“I didn’t want to disturb you so I went out for some coffee. He produces two steaming mugs, holding them up proudly. “You look so peaceful when you sleep.”

His eyes are wild. He comes closer and I can smell the familiar odour of wet socks and staleness that follows him like a cloud. I try not to shudder.

“Did you have a good snooze?”

His pleasantness is almost more disturbing than if he were menacing right now. I don’t know how to react. His eyes are darting around the room and he takes another step towards me, holding the coffee out. His jacket is stained in the front and on the sleeve, a dark brown patch as if he spilled coffee all over himself.

He gets closer still and I stare at the stain. The edges look almost red. My eyes widen and I look up at his face.

It’s blood. My already wild heart jumps again and my throat starts to close. I can’t breathe. Whose blood is that?! Is it mine? Is it his?? Is it someone else’s?!!

Greg notices my gaze and makes a noise almost like a growl. He puts the coffee down on the bedside table and rips his jacket off.

“What are you looking at?” He barks. He throws the jacket off to the side and it lands with a thud. I can still see it and the bloodstain from where I’m lying. I shift my gaze back to Greg. He’s standing over me with his hands on his hips, as if he’s deciding what he wants to do.

I’m completely powerless. I can’t move and the panic is making it impossible for me to speak. I can hardly even breathe.

“You’re very quiet today, puppet,” he says, taking a seat next to me. His gnarled, dirty finger reaches towards my face and I turn away, squeezing my eyes shut. He strokes the side of my face with his finger, tracing the line of my jaw all the way down my neck. I keep my eyes shut and hold my breath until it’s over.

“You’re shaking! Are you cold?” There’s concern in his voice. I open my eyes and watch as he gets a blanket from the cupboard and throws it over me. “There.”

His hair is sticking up in all directions and his eyes are hazy and unfocused. He won’t look at something for more than a second, and his movements are sharp and jittery. He sits down on the bed again.

“Oh! I almost forgot your coffee. Here,” he presents it to me as if he doesn’t realise my arms and legs are bound.

“I.. I can’t,” I finally say, nodding towards my hands.

“Oh of course,” he replies. He leans in towards me and another wave of stench invades my nostrils. His greasy hand cups the back of my head. Is that blood under his fingernails?

He lifts my head almost gently and brings the coffee cup to my lips.

“Careful! It’s hot!” He says with a child-like giggle. I take a sip and nod.

“Thanks,” I respond. He smiles, satisfied, and puts the coffee back on the table. He folds his hand in his lap and looks at me. It looks almost like his smile is plastered on his face but the rest of his features didn’t follow along. It’s like his eyes operate on a completely different circuit than the rest of his face.

“Great. Now, what should we do? Do you want to play cards? I remember you said you were great at Blackjack! Have you got any cards?”

I take a deep breath. “Greg, what’s going on? What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, puppet? We’re together, finally. This is how it’s meant to be. Everyone else is out of the way and now we can finally be the way we’re supposed to be.”

My blood turns to ice. Everyone else is out of the way?

“Greg, we’re not together. I’m your boss.”

“That didn’t stop you a couple weeks ago, did it!” His head spins towards me and the spittle flies off his lips as he almost shouts the words at me. He leans towards me and my whole body goes rigid. The ropes at my wrists and ankles digs into my skin but I can’t relax my body enough to ease the pain, not when Greg’s face is inches from mine and he’s breathing heavily. His eyes are completely dark.

He knows. He saw us. I knew there was someone. My stomach drops as I realise I should have listened to my instincts. Greg sits up again and his feature rearrange themselves again. He smiles at me.

“That’s ok,” he says, patting my arm. “We’re together now and that’s all that matters. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah,” I say quickly.

“Say you agree,” he says.

“I agree.”

Greg nods and gets up, brushing his hands together. “I hope you’re hungry, I’ve been planning our first meal together for over a year! I learned to cook from my grandmother,” he explains. “I’m quite the expert with a knife!”

My eyes shoot back to the jacket on the ground, and the bloodstain down the front. Expert with a knife echoes in my brain over and over and over.