Confrontation
I open my eyes, sit up fast and take a deep breath. I had a nightmare but I have no recollection of it. I expect it was about Tanya and the kids if I did have one.
As I stare into space trying to remember my dream, I see my laptop open on a word document; the document is my version of Killing for Your Love.
The word document has been scrolled to the end of the file. I read the page it has been left on…
The End
Continued:
The park here will be a death scene within a few hours. The storm has erupted, the rain pours down ferociously. The thunder and lightning complement each other’s strength and power, and the swing chains around the beautiful woman’s neck hang her up like a jacket on a hook. Her bare feet hang loosely as do her hands and fingertips.
The rain lands on her burgundy hair and slides down her smooth skin; down her soft neck to her shoulders or straight down her chest to her legs to drip onto the ground from her fingertips or toenails.
I look at her lifeless body hanging here in the chains on this red metal frame, in the public for everyone to see when they wake up in the morning.
The chains are embedded in her neck. Blood escaped her throat and dribbled down to her chest. Deep purple with flecks of blackness envelops her neck; decorating patterns around the tight chains.
Why? Because I can.
It’s a sacrifice, women are cruel and bitter. There was a time that men were dominant and the women acknowledged that but now they want ‘equality’. They want to be equal but they never will be because men are superior. This is an act of strength and domination to men and a warning to all women, especially Lizzie who left me and took my kids, she will pay and the killings will continue for as long as I am alive and for as long as women try to become equal to men.
I stare at my laptop, when was this written? I have not looked at this file for a while but even so, someone has come upstairs, turned it on, gone onto the Killing for Your Love Word document and left it on the last page for me to read. Why didn’t they just kill me? It must be Shola. It is someone living on Mulberry Lane it must be someone who has easy access… My mind expands, my thought changes, maybe it isn’t Shola. Maybe it is one of the Cann’s, they have a key, they have easy access and they have all this time. Surely not though, surely Simon wouldn’t do this and Sandra most certainly wouldn’t. Surely?
I don’t know who I can trust; the answer is nobody, not one person.
I walk downstairs and hear the rain outside. I think for a moment, rain, thunder and lightning, the park. Is that last part set at the park around the corner from here?
I look outside and see flashing blue lights in the distance through the tree line that covers the park.
“No way.” I say out loud
I go and put my jacket and shoes on and run outside.
The blue lights aren’t too far in the distance which must mean one thing. What I read must have been written in pretty much real time.
I go to the end of Mulberry Lane and look ahead to see police cars and ambulances surrounding the park.
I walk over to the park and see the crowds surrounding the blue police lines around the park. The rain continues to pour down, the photographers’ cameras flash in sync with the lightning. I look to the swings which are covered by a white tent. Sam is there. He’s wearing a long grey jacket and he’s speaking to a group of people. I see him and push through the crowds of observers and photographers.
“Sam!” I shout but the thunder mutes me. “Sam!” I shout again making him turn around towards me.
“Ryan.” He says as he turns to his group to finish speaking. Then he strides over to me.
“What’s happened here?” I ask him.
“Someone has been hung by the swing chains, another victim but the weird thing is; she’s got brown hair.”
“Oh right.” This must be the same murder like written after the end of my book.
“Yeah she’s been hung, but we don’t know why.”
I stare at Sam, feeling sick.
“Ryan?” I hear Sam ask me, his voice echoing inside my mind. “Ryan?” He says again.
I look up to the field by the trees and see someone staring at the park from the trees.
“Sam I have to go.”
“Are you okay Ryan? You do know you don’t need to worry about Sandra, Dad and I are here to protect her now, thank you so much for…” I interrupt him; he has nothing to be thankful to me for, just as I have nothing to be thankful to Sandra for.
“That’s fine Sam don’t worry, I’ve got to go, good luck with the case.”
“Are you sure you’re okay Ryan?”
“Yeah I’m fine but I think I may know who is doing this.”
“You do?” Sam stares at me. I nod my head but don’t reply. “Who?” he asks.
“I’m not quite sure to be honest. I need to do something to check.”
“Ryan I can help you.”
“I don’t know if it is this person and if the police started sniffing around then we may not find them out, I’ll try and find out, just don’t watch me or tell anyone that I may know.”
“Right. Well I’ll make out that we’ve not spoken about this then, have a good night Ryan.” We shake hands and I look to the trees again but the figure has disappeared.
I run around to Mulberry Lane and stare down the road. Nobody is in sight; once again the road is as silent as a cemetery.
I walk slowly towards my house watching Shola’s house and the Cann’s. It must be one of those two.
As I stare at Shola’s I see movement within the house, the curtain twitches. I pause for a moment and walk past my house and continue to walk towards Shola’s.
“Ryan!” Simon shouts from his house.
The rain slaps the concrete, muffling his shouts and cries.
“Ryan!” Simon shouts again.
I stop walking and turn to him slowly and walk over to him.
“What are you doing?” Simon asks.
“Just walking.”
“Well you shouldn’t be walking around alone; anyone could be out here, especially the murderer.” Simon says in a monotone.
“You’re right. Simon I need to talk to you about something, it’s really important.” I say.
“Right, go ahead.”
“As odd as this may sound, I think I know who is committing these murders. I think it is someone who lives on this road.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“It’s Shola.”
“Shola? The man in that shed of a house there.” Simon says staring at the house.
“Yes. Things have been happening to me, he’s been following me and coming into my house and…”
“He comes into your house?”
“Yes he does, he comes in all the time. He’s done sick things. He’s written odd things on my walls, he’s put dead foxes in my garden, he set my house alight, he…”
“How can you possibly know this Ryan? Did you see him?”
“No I didn’t.”
“Well then it could be anyone, it could even be me, I have a key to your house. Just come inside.”
“Well is it?”
“Is it what? Me?” Simon asks.
“Yeah. Is it you then?”
Simon pauses and stares at me, he reaches my arm and holds it tightly. “Ryan I’m your friend and I work, I don’t have time to do such things to you or anyone.”
“So it isn’t you then?”
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious here Ryan. These accusations, if heard by anyone else, could be misleading and could result in bad things happening to me or you or both of us.” He looks up and down the road, behind him at the front door and back at me. “No… It is not me.”
I look into his eyes, his expression isn’t completely normal; he has a mixture of fear and anger towards my accusation.
“Okay then, sorry Simon.”
He nods at me and I pull off a fake smile.
“Don’t worry about it Ryan, come inside.”
As we walk inside, I look behind me to see Shola standing outside his house with his arms folded, staring at me. I turn around and ignore him.
Simon and I walk into his house, I take off my jacket and hang it up on the hanger and kick my shoes off.
I turn around to see Sandra sitting on the sofa typing on her laptop.
“Hello darling.” Simon says as he walks into the kitchen, grabbing her shoulder as he walks past the sofa.
“What are you doing out there Ryan? It’s a bit late and the weather is awful.”
“I was just looking around.”
“You haven’t been here much since coming out of hospital though, where’ve you been?” Sandra asks.
“Leave him alone Sandy, he’s an adult.” Simon says laughing.
“Well no Simon. He’s just come out of hospital he nearly died. You can’t just come out of hospital and stand in the rain all day and most of the night.”
“It’s fine don’t worry about me.” I say to her, meaning in more ways than one.
“Well I do worry.”
“Then don’t.” I reply.
Sandra shakes her head and looks back to the laptop.
“What’s the time darling?” Simon asks.
“Oh it’s…” Sandra looks around at her laptop screen. “Nearly twelve o’clock.”
“Oh God really, I’ll go to bed soon then.” Simon says.
“I’ll join you.” Sandra says giving me a seductive stare from the corner of her eyes.
“We’ve got a spare room upstairs for you Ryan or the couch; it’s entirely up to you.”
“I’ll sleep down here actually, don’t worry about me. I’ve got whiskey to help me sleep too.”
“Good idea mate.” Simon says.
“Here’s the duvet and pillows for you Ryan, have a good sleep.” Sandra says as she walks up the spiral stairs.
“Goodnight mate.” Simon says, following her.
“Night.” I say as they disappear.
I sit down on the sofa and think for a moment. My muscles begin to relax as I sit back with my head resting back on the sofa. I feel absolutely knackered and before I know it, I nod off to sleep.
My vision blurs as I stand in the middle of the road on Mulberry Lane, staring at a dark outline of someone with a long green coat and clumpy brown boots.
I try to shout, but my cries are mute. The figure turns, the hood on their jacket is up, covering their head. Inside the hood the face is nonexistent. “Beneath men sit.” I hear a voice whisper in my ear. “Sin beaten them.” The voice whispers again.
“Who’s there?” I ask the figure in front of me.
“Beaten hints me.” They whisper again and a hand grabs my shoulder.
“I’m Liam Graynnil.” The voice whispers again.
I turn around to see Tanya kneeling; she’s holding Sammy and Alex in her arms. They’re on either side of her, completely pale with dark bags under their eyes. Tanya looks up to me and screams. Tears pour down her face, her screams ripple through Mulberry Lane. I look around; Simon and Sandra stand in front of their house, Paul Brooke and his wife stand outside their home and Don stands by the tree line blocking the park. I turn around to Shola’s house but he is not to be seen. I turn around to look at Tanya on the ground, as I kneel down to her; she changes into the green hooded figure, squealing in a high pitched noise which disorientates me. I become dizzy, everyone blurs, as does the road itself. I look to the figure; it stands up, throwing Sammy and Alex aside. I fall backwards landing on my back, I crack my head and I am unable to move. The figure stands over me; the hood looks down at me with no face. It kneels closer to me until it’s just millimetres away from my face. I feel their lukewarm breath on my face, I see yellow teeth appear inside the hood, then a face but it’s a face I cannot identify.
“I am Mr S.” The figure says and he stands up.
He stands in silence, looking down on me until he suddenly shrieks and bawls, forcing me to wake up on the Cann’s sofa.
I sit up and look around me, breathing heavily.
What was that about?
I listen carefully and look at the clock in the kitchen. It’s four in the morning. Now is the time to look for answers, Shola is never going to answer me if I knock on the door and he will never talk to me. I need answers now.
I go into the kitchen. I pull out the drawers, searching for anything to take with me to Shola’s house.
I open a drawer which contains knives and cutlery. I pick up one of the sharp kitchen knives and then slowly push the drawer back in.
I open the cupboards which contain boxes of cereal, baking goods and biscuits. I open another drawer which has more cutlery: bottle openers, cooking equipment and a torch. ‘I’ll need that’ I think to myself as I pick up the torch and then creep to the front door. As I reach the door, I slip my shoes on and put my jacket on.
Gripping the door handle, I pull it down, the locks clack and clunk, the plastic sticks to the door frame and freezing cold floods into the house. As I take a step forward, I hear the bed creak upstairs. I hear mumbling and then the floor creaks across the sitting room ceiling. I follow the path of whoever is up by the sounds through the floor. I wait for a moment longer and hear the sounds approach the spiral stairs. I stay still. Waiting for the floor boards to creak in the toilet. There’s a shadow through the hole of the stairs. Please don’t come down here, not now. I see the shadow through the stairs, it brushes into the kitchen and it goes past the stairs and into the toilet.
I step outside and pull the front door handle up slowly so that it doesn’t shut and lock me out.
I walk across Simon’s lawn and look to Shola’s house which seems completely normal but still creepy.
The weather has quietened down, the rain is lighter; the droplets much smaller than before, the roar of the thunder is quieter.
The street lamp outside my house is flickering; as is the one closest to Shola and the Brekken’s. I walk over to Shola’s with the wind blowing against me, rustling through the trees, and blowing litter along the road.
I stand outside of Shola’s house clutching the kitchen knife in my hand. Once again, this is going to get nasty, most likely a similar conclusion to the morgue and Don.
As I stand in front of his door I notice that his door is open slightly.
I look over my shoulders to see the shadowy cul-de-sac. It’s completely silent now that the rain has stopped and there is no one out this early in the morning.
I push the screeching door open, it thumps against the inside wall.
I step in on the carpet which has no bounce to it like a normal carpet. It feels crushed and worn. As I take gradual steps into the house, I hold onto the damp wall.
I pull out the torch and shine it ahead of me. I shine the light up onto the black mouldering ceiling; droplets fall down onto the flat, musky carpet. I shine my torch onto the wall to see specks of black and white fluffy mould on the tacky wallpaper.
I walk past a door to my right and keep walking towards the back garden. I shine my light into what is supposed to be another room. There’s a small wooden table and a sink, with mucky plates and chipped mugs next to it.
I go back towards the front door and push the door I previously passed. It’s closed, so I pull the handle down and push the door open slowly. Continuing to push the door open, I look back at the front door, which is gaping. I look back into the room that I am about to walk into and I see paper, books, and furniture all overturned.
What a slob.
The door doesn’t open fully. I go into the room and look behind the door to see a dead fox acting as a door stop. I look into the centre of the room and stare at an overturned table. Its legs stick up into the air with a body lying across it on its back. I recognise the long green jacket and clumpy boots; it’s Shola.
“Shola?” I whisper.
With no reply, I walk over to his body and kick his hand and repeat myself: “Shola?”
Still no reply; his body doesn’t flinch, his chest is not moving and he has blood all over him from head to toe but I notice something odd, he holds a small black book in his hand.
I step back from the body and look around the room. Creepily, I see photos of myself stuck on the wall, black and white photos of me. There are many, there are photos of me outside my house, of me in the kitchen. The photographer must have been in my garden. There are photos of me speaking to Sandra, Simon, Sam and Paul. There are even photos of me at the pub and at the supermarket.
I look back to the body and kneel down. I try not to touch Shola at all. I reach for his bloody black book. As I pull it away, Shola’s body goes rigid and straightens, he turns to me and grabs my shoulder. I drop my torch and the black book on the ground. I grab his arms and throw him, rolling him on the floor. As he rolls onto his front, Shola tries to stand and as he does, he looks over to me with panic in his eyes.
“Help me,” he says.
This is the first time I have seen and heard him.
We stare at each other for a moment, he looks weak and vulnerable.
“What happened here?” I ask him.
He does not answer; he stares at me with his teary eyes. He breathes deeply then all of a sudden he charges at me, his fists clenched. He swings his fists at me. I duck out of the way, crawl on my knees and frantically push loose paper and books out of my way to search for a weapon. Shola’s boots head towards me from behind, I see an iron bar on the floor, it’s curved at one end. I grab it and turn onto my back. Shola stands above me, I hook his feet with the bar and pull. He yelps in pain as he collapses onto the floor. I use the bar to stand myself up.
I walk over to Shola who’s squirming on the floor holding his ankle. I stand above him and swing the bar across the back of his head. His face smashes onto the floor and I hear him groan.
“Why are you doing this to me?” I ask him.
Shola doesn’t respond; he just stays on the ground.
I lift the bar above my head and push it down into his thigh. It pierces clean through his thigh; he screams and makes me feel nauseous.
“Shut up!” I shout, trying to act strong. I swing the bar and hit Shola on the top of his head.
Shola goes limp.
“Tell me what’s going on, why did you put that fox in my shed? How did you come into my house and write all those messages? Why did you try and kill me?”
He doesn’t answer. I throw the bar aside and kick him. He doesn’t react; I pull him off of his front and push him onto his back.
He’s dead.
I look around the room, I look at the photos of me and spot a CD rack. I look through the three CD cases, as I open one; I read the title as “FOX CAM 1 Ryan Milligan.” Followed by FOX CAM 2 and 3.
I look around the room for a TV but there isn’t one. I slip the three CDs and their cases into my jacket pocket and continue to look.
I pick up the black book from the floor and open it. I read what he has written and it seems like an activity log of my every move. This confirms that Shola has been watching me. What also confirms it are the black binoculars sitting by the window facing all the way down Mulberry Lane.
“Ryan Milligan leaves No. 2 Mulberry Lane at 23:40.
He returns at 2:48, limping slightly and his white shirt covered in blood.”
I flick through the pages, reading the time lapses and all my activities.
“Ryan leaves No. 5 staggering, presumably after a night with Simon and Sandra Cann. He stumbles up to his pathway and collapses for 2 minutes. He then rises up off the ground and walks away from his house.
He returns at 4:00, going straight into his house.”
That makes me think back to that time. When I left the Cann’s, I did stumble home and I did collapse. I remember that, but I do not remember coming back round after collapsing. Shola has written that I got up and went back out but I do not remember this at all.
I continue to read…
“I follow Ryan to a street around the corner from Mulberry Lane. He has stolen a Vauxhall Astra, 06 plate. He stole it from one of his blonde victims who I do not know the identity of.
He sits in the car and stares at the house of the married couple Nick and Ella Browne.
As he watches Ella walk up to the house, he leans forward in his car. Nick answers the door and Ella walks inside.
After a moment, Ryan follows them; he goes up to the front door. He pauses as he tries to walk in through the front. He runs down the porch steps and around the back of the house. Momentarily I lose him but as I wait, I hear screams from inside the house and I call the police.”
I read this entry more than once and this is definitely the house that Sandra and I went to. Shola watched me kill Ella and Nick? I did not do this; I do not remember doing this at all, why would Shola make all of this up?
I flick through more pages and come to the most up to date page, dated today…
“Ryan,
I know what is going to happen. You think that I am evil when I’m not. I have been watching you for a long time, even before you moved here.
There are things you need to know and you need to discover them for yourself.
You may kill me but I have people who are aware of you, they will track you down and kill you for me.
You are a murderer. You are the murderer who killed all those blonde women and anyone else who got in your way.
You will want answers about Liam Graynnil and whatever else you know but let me tell you something, you may have killed Don and you may have killed me but there are still people out there who want your head. You better watch your back Ryan or should I call you Liam – Yes that’s right, you’re Liam Graynnil.
See you in hell,
Shola”
I stare at the last message from Shola and wonder what the fuck is going on. I’m Liam? Don implied that also, there is no way I am this Liam Graynnil, they must be lying, they must be setting me up for some reason but at least I know that Liam Graynnil is the murderer and he is out there with the other people who Shola and Don were working with.
I’m still confused… why they have targeted me? I’m just a normal guy who’s been searching for his wife and kids for four years, it doesn’t make sense.
I look out the front to see two figures looking in through the window into Shola’s house. I take a glance at everything to see if there is anything else, I don’t think there is, well I hope not.
I run out to the back and barge the back door open.
I run out into the garden and into the woodland behind Shola’s house. I pause, hiding within the trees and the shadows staring at Shola’s house.
A figure walks around the side of Shola’s house and into his back garden. The figure holds a torch and what looks to be a gun.
Another figure comes out from inside Shola’s out of the back door. He looks to the other.
As the figures stare at each other, one of them runs back down the side of the house and the other walks back inside. I pause for a moment and come out from the trees. As I stand on the open grass, the figure runs out from inside the house and runs down the side of the house and down the road.
I take steps towards Shola’s house. I reach the fence surrounding his back garden, as I look into his house, the house suddenly explodes.
The heat is scorching even from this distance. The roof lifts off the house and clatters back down onto it knocking the walls down and completely destroying everything inside it. I land awkwardly on my shoulder with my legs akimbo. The wet grass soaks my back instantly through my jacket.
I push myself up off the ground and run. I’ve got to get out of here, that explosion would have woken everyone up not just on Mulberry Lane but the surrounding area.
I run down the side of the blistering flames as they flicker into the night sky. I reach the road and sprint.
I cannot be seen, if I am, I will be the main suspect. With the blue lights still circulating at the park and through the tree line, they would have most certainly heard the explosion and they probably saw it. I must have only seconds until they come around the corner.
I’m able to reach the Cann’s and run inside. I shut the door, without slamming it. I listen to see if they did hear it and they sure did. I hear mumbling and movement upstairs.
I pull my jacket off and hang it up and then slip my boots off and jump into the couch. I shut my eyes and hear the stomps of bare feet walking around upstairs. I hear the movement towards their bedroom window and then both of them running across the landing and down the stairs.
“Shola’s house is on fire.” Simon says.
They both run past me and go outside.
“I hope he’s okay.” Sandra says.
I stand up and step out onto the drive to watch the policemen running down the street towards Shola’s.
I look over to Paul’s house, Paul, his wife and two kids are all staring at Shola’s house.
A police car speeds across to the house. Sam’s Mercedes arrives moments later. I hear men shouting: “Get back, stay back.”
I see Sam stand in Shola’s front garden looking hopelessly at it. I walk up to Sandra and Simon.
“Jesus! I wonder what happened there?” I say.
“I don’t know but there’s no way he’s alive.” Simon says.
“Oh God poor man, maybe it’s to do with the blonde murders?” Sandra wonders.
“No course not darling. It’s more likely a gas leak and explosion: don’t worry about it. We should probably go back inside though, I don’t expect Sam would want us poking our noses into it,” Simon says as he puts his arm around Sandra. “Come on.”
They both walk back into the house and I follow them.
We stand in the sitting room in silence.
“Tea or coffee?” I say out loud.
“Nothing for me I’m going back to bed.” Simon says.
“And so am I.” Sandra says, staring at the ground.
“Okay, well night then.”
Sandra doesn’t say a word, she walks back upstairs and Simon strolls to the stairs. He puts one foot on the first step and looks back at me.
“Bit odd, all this is going on, in Surrey especially. But even more importantly on Mulberry Lane. It’s like a soap.” Simon says, shaking his head. “Anyway see you in the morning mate.”
“Yeah see you tomorrow.” I say.
He disappears up the stairs and I sit down on the sofa, confused as to what is going on. Maybe I need to read this book by Liam Graynnil to understand more what is happening and what has happened.
I pull out the book and begin to skim read. I read the first few chapters again when Lizzie and the kids disappear. I re-read the first few deaths, a nervous quiver pulses through my body. They’re saying I committed these murders and did all of this. Daniel is being hunted in the book by this group because they believe he harmed Lizzie and the kids? Is Daniel me or Liam Graynnil or both?
I begin to read the book, imagining myself. Daniel is me.
I stand in a house where I believe Lizzie has been coming to before she disappeared.
The house is located on a cul-de-sac with no owner currently living here. He’s been missing for some time now, just as long as Lizzie has been gone for.
It’s located on a slope with a gravel path leading up towards the front porch. I stand in the open hallway and smell the muskiness marking the abandonment. Where did this man go? I know who he is; I have come across him before in his line of work. Andrew Myers.
He knows me very well and my family, Lizzie and he have a bond, a very strong bond. Sometimes, I would watch Lizzie walk in here and I would look through the windows to see what they’re doing. But I could never see them; they were always too busy upstairs.
I pause and stare at the description of Lizzie and Andrew Myers. This piece is about my house, the house that I bought.
It’s peculiar that I or Graynnil have used real names for real people. Don and Andrew Myers have been used without a pseudonym whereas I’m ‘Daniel’, Tanya must be ‘Lizzie’ but why?
I have been in the house before, I knew Andrew Myers, I do not