I opened my eyes almost immediately, the sharp pain from falling heavily on the ground arousing me from unconsciousness. However, I wouldn’t let any pain - anything get in the way of finding out – finding out who kept calling me, who wanted to kill me, and what this had to do with Ronny.
I needed to follow them.
I pulled myself up quickly, using the side of my bed as a support. I ran to the window to see if there was any more movement by the bush, but it was still. Whoever it was, they were very good at hiding themselves. I ran down the stairs quietly so as not to wake Dad, my curiosity smothering the pain in my chest. I reached the front door, breathlessly turning the key and, slowly, opening it. Every time it made the slightest creak, I winced, not wanting to scare my pursuer away. Right now, the only thing I wanted was to find out the truth.
I stepped out into the cold night and shuddered. This wasn’t the first time I’d been out at this time, staring at the same, starry sky… I stopped myself before the memory of that dreadful night came back. I didn’t want the tears now. I looked around, hoping I wasn’t already too late. It was hard to see through the thick darkness and drizzle; hard to see through my narrowed eyes, heavy with sleep. Again and again I looked left, and then right, and then back to the bush – but I could see nothing. Damn, I thought. I should’ve at least brought a torch with me.But it was too late to go back now – I had to carry on looking. Slowly, I walked toward the front of our drive. Each footstep sounded like a mini explosion in the silence of the night, making me look around, paranoid, every few seconds. It wouldn’t be good if I woke anyone now.
Suddenly, I saw it. Or rather, him. A man dressed in all black, the hood pulled over his face, the cloak wrapped around his large body. Was this the man who I’d seen on the rooftop at the hospital? The man who’d been pointing a gun at my father? The man… the man who had shot me? He was holding a gun, a big gun. It had to be him. So what was he doing, standing not one meter away from me, completely still? Surely he could see me. He was pointing the gun straight at me, for goodness sake – why wasn’t he pulling the trigger? I looked behind him at the bush that he’d emerged from, to check if there weren’t any more coming. Nothing. No one. I wonder what the dark voice on the phone meant when it said: ‘We’ll never forget'. Who was ‘we’?
“Naomi. Come, come Naomi.” The horrible, snarling whispers came from the hood of the cloak – stopping my train of thought. My jaw clenched, determination running through my every bone. There was no way I was coming towards those cruel words – that hooded monster who stood in my drive, his darkness casting shadows over my house. My feet remained rooted to the ground. Nothing would touch me now.
“Come, come, dear. We won’t hurt you.” he whispered. Again – that we. I shuddered.
“No.” I said. “Never.” My voice was even, but anyone could hear the fear hidden behind the words. Even him. Suddenly, he began walking forward. Towards me.
“No!” I cried, wanting, now, more than ever, to wake my father. But my cry wasn’t loud enough, and the echoing footsteps continued to fall like atomic bombs.
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” he asked quietly. He pointed his gun, now only a few centimetres away, at my head.
No. I wouldn’t let him win.
“I’m sure,” I gulped.
“Not even to save your life?” he asked. His footsteps continued, until I felt the tip of the gun on my forehead. He pressed, hard.
“Not even for your father’s?”
Don’t let him get to you. He doesn’t mean it.
“No.” I whispered. He wouldn’t kill Dad. Of course he wouldn’t.
“Not even for your mother’s?” he inquired.
His question made me jump. Surely, he’d have known?
“My mother’s dead.” I said, my mouth in a grim line.
“I knew that. Just wanted to hit a nerve.” His tone sounded almost jokey. I could almost see the grin, hiding under that dark hood. I could’ve hit him.
“Shut up! You don’t know anything about my life!” I shouted, tears of rage running down my cheeks. Before I could say any more, he pushed the gun even further into my forehead, silencing me. A horrible pain bashed at my head, over and over. A prisoner wanting to be set free.
“Stupid girl,” he muttered under his breath. “It seems you’re unwilling to come with me. But let’s see how you feel about that when I give you your next option.” he said more loudly. I waited, tense, as he collected his breath. “Would you follow me, my dear, if it meant that you were to see Ronny again?”
And suddenly, in a quiet, trembling voice that didn’t seem like mine, I said it.
I said yes.
