The Silent Suspect Nell Pattison (best classic books of all time TXT) 📖

I couldn’t see myself wanting to meet someone new any time soon. It was all too messy and painful and confusing.

Putting my phone away, I rooted in my bag for my keys. I could hear something jangling, but in my drunken haze they seemed determine to evade my searching hand. Frustrated, I put my bag down on the low wall outside the block of flats and started to take things out. I looked up at the bank of buttons that would ring the bells in each of the flats, and wondered if it was worth risking it. There were flashing lights connected to my doorbell, for Anna, but not in her bedroom, so if she was asleep it wouldn’t wake her. I decided to risk it and, forgetting that I’d scattered half of the contents of my handbag along the wall, rang the doorbell to my flat.

I waited for a moment, then remembered my bag. Turning back, I caught sight of movement out of the corner of my eye, but before I could work out what it was I was slammed against the wall.

‘Get off me! What the hell? Who are you?’ I yelled loudly. I didn’t care if I woke anyone. ‘Get off me!’ I shouted again, before a large, calloused hand was pressed firmly across my mouth.

I don’t know if the sheer amount of alcohol I had in my bloodstream made me brave or stupid, but I kicked back against him – I was sure it was a man, with the size and strength of him. When I did, he didn’t even twitch; it was like kicking a brick wall.

‘Stop being so fucking stupid and listen to me.’ Definitely a man. At that point it occurred to me just how much danger I could be in, and I froze. Would anyone have heard me shouting? Or was this man going to be able to do anything he wanted to me without anyone coming to my aid? My heart thundered and I felt my breath catching in my throat as I fought off the rising panic. Please just let him take my purse and my phone, I thought. Please, let him be a thief and nothing more.

‘You need to learn what’s good for you,’ he growled. ‘I’ve got a message to deliver.’

A message? What the hell was he talking about? I managed to control my breathing, and the roar of blood pounding in my ears subsided a little.

‘Back off. Stop sticking your nose into other people’s business, or you might find it gets cut off.’

I held my breath. Was this about me going to the gym yesterday? He was certainly built like someone who spent time there.

‘Who sent you?’ I demanded, my drunkenness disabling my sense of self-preservation.

In response, he leant harder against me, mashing my face into the brick wall and pressing hard on my lower back. The sharp pain in my face was followed by the warmth of blood seeping out of my damaged skin. His hand crept up my side and under my arm, and I braced myself for what was coming next when the front door to the block of flats flew open.

Almost immediately I was released, and I sagged to the ground. I looked behind me but all I could see was a large figure dressed in black, running in the opposite direction. Gathering my knees to my chest, I started to shake, not even noticing that it was Anna who had opened the door.

God, what happened? she asked me, looking at my belongings scattered on the ground next to me. She put a hand to the side of my face.

Paige, you’re bleeding. What happened? Who was that?

I couldn’t answer; I was shaking too hard. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and close my eyes. A moment later, however, I pulled myself up, leant over the wall and was sick in the gutter. Anna held my hair back, then helped me up before guiding me inside and up to our flat.

She bustled around me, taking off my shoes and wrapping a blanket around my shoulders as I continued to shiver. A couple of minutes later, a cup of tea was pushed into my hands and I took a sip, then recoiled at the sweetness of it.

Mum always said you should have sweet tea when you’ve had a shock, Anna said, nodding at the cup. Did he take anything?

I put the cup down so I could reply. No, I don’t think so. My signing wasn’t clear, with the alcohol and the shaking, but she understood.

Did he … do anything to you?

I shook my head. He was threatening me. I don’t know what he would have done if you hadn’t come out … The realisation of what had happened hit me and I burst into tears.

I’m so stupid, I told her. This is all my fault. Everything in my life is going wrong, and it’s all my own stupid fault.

Anna sat down next to me, hugged me and let me cry for a couple of minutes, then pulled away from me.

I need to get you something for your face, she told me. Wait here.

A moment later she was back with the box we used as a first aid kit. She got some wet cotton wool and dabbed at my cheekbone, and it was only when a searing pain shot through me that I realised it was more than just a scratch. I got up to check it in the bathroom mirror before she could stop me: a large patch of the right side of my face was grazed, scarlet drops of blood oozing out from the dozens of thin scratches in my skin. There was going to be no way of hiding it, and I dreaded to think how much it was going to hurt when the booze wore off.

I went back through to the living room and threw myself down on the sofa, wincing as Anna tried to clean it