It was all so easy, luring her here.
I could have drugged her, or knocked her unconscious like I did with the other bitch, but that had been a lot of work. There had been risks involved getting her into the car without being seen, and have you any idea how heavy an unconscious person is?
I actually looked it up. It’s not that they weigh more, it’s all to do with the weight distribution, but I understand now why it’s referred to as dead weight. I keep myself fit and healthy, and I have worked hard to build muscle, knowing I had to be in peak physical shape to pull this off, but the dead weight thing still shocked me.
No, it was easier to lure. More fun too, giving me a chance to feed off her reactions; the growing unease when she realised Noah wasn’t there, then the blind panic when Molly disappeared and she understood she was all alone. Taking away her best friend had been unplanned, but it turned out to be an inspired move. I would have liked to toy with her for longer, but we are all here for a purpose. It was best to stick to the plan. Deviating could have resulted in me losing her and I couldn’t risk that. Not after everything I have been through.
I have her now, though. She is all mine. Along with the other bitch. And soon they will understand real fear, realise that they need to pay for what they did to you. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. They are sinners, and sinners need to be punished.
It makes me so mad when I realise how they almost got away with it. If Kelly Dearborn hadn’t crossed my path, I would have never learnt the truth. If I hadn’t recognised her name, remembered that sympathy card she had sent after you had died.
She was seeing Doctor Phillips and after he went long-term sick, his patients were divided among the rest of us at the practice. Kelly hadn’t been mine, but when I saw the list I did a little bit of digging, understood she had been the same Kelly Dearborn who had gone to school with you, so I swapped her name to my list on the computer. No one was any the wiser and her case file ended up on my desk.
I only took her on because of who she was. I remembered the lovely words she wrote following your death and I guess it was a connection to you. It almost felt like fate that I had come across her. Little did I know that I was about to uncover her terrible secret.
‘Miss Dearborn, please come in.’
I remember welcoming the plainly dressed, dark-haired woman into my office. I knew from her case file that she was not much younger than me, but had I not known that, I would have thought she was at least ten years older. Time had not served her well.
‘I’m Doctor Miller.’
Her handshake had been pathetically limp, her eyes never making contact with mine. My first impression of her, I admit, had been disappointment. Call me shallow, but I had built up an image of Kelly Dearborn from her kind words and it was nothing like the woman standing before me.
Her file told me she suffered from anxiety and depression, and notes from Doctor Phillips indicated that she had issues buried in her past. He had been working to get her to talk about those, and now he was gone, I was going to have to start from the beginning, learn how to gain her trust.
It took several weeks to persuade her to open up and when she finally did, telling me about the school trip to Black Dog Farm, even mentioning you by name, I had caught my breath, tried to even out my expression, aware she could never know who I was.
Your death had been ruled an accident and none of us ever questioned that, but as Kelly spoke about the secret she had sworn to take to the grave, I began to realise there was so much more to what had gone on that night, and I understood that somehow I was going to have to work on her to get her to reveal exactly what had happened.
The hardest thing had been to keep my face a blank canvas as the truth came out. How she told me about the two best friends from the school in Norfolk, Fern St Clair and Olivia Blake. How they had tormented you that first night in the dining hall. And how Fern and Olivia had fallen out, with you being dragged into it when Olivia befriended you.
It was so difficult to listen to, but little did I know that worse was to come. A plot had been hatched to lure you to the cottage in the woods so a prank could be played. Olivia and Rachel Williams were to bring you there, where Kelly, Fern and their other friends were waiting.
After you panicked, after the paraffin lamp had broken, setting light to the cottage, they had left you to burn.
I knew Olivia Blake and Rachel Williams had been with you, that Olivia had barely escaped the fire herself. But I didn’t know about her betrayal.
She had led us to believe she was your friend, sending emails when she was well enough, distraught at your death. She tried to fool us. Tried to play the victim and the loving friend, when all along she had been part of the prank that got you killed.
After the session where Kelly had confessed the truth about your death, she had left my office looking lighter than she had in months. Her burden shared, but now weighing heavily on my shoulders. She honestly had no idea who I was. But then why would she? She didn’t know that Miller was my married name, that I had eagerly taken it to get away from my own. Albeit, it was a name that came from a brief marriage. I had married a doctor who wanted to fix me, who didn’t understand that I was beyond repair.
That awful night with my parents and their friends, so many years ago, taught me that. They had tried to fix me, to expel the evil. Of course I let them believe they had, but my darkness runs too deep, so instead I have learnt to hide it well.
I understood that Kelly had to pay, that they all had to pay, but I acted rashly.
Over the days following our therapy session, I became consumed with rage. Eventually I had gone to Kelly Dearborn’s house and, knowing she was inside, I had set fire to it. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. I wanted her to suffer the way she had made you suffer.
What I hadn’t expected was the hollow feeling I was left with after she died.
Kelly had never learnt the truth; she hadn’t realised she was being punished. I wanted her to understand. I wanted to see her suffer.
I knew what I had to do, that I had to get it right the next time.
I spent the next few weeks plotting, knew it made sense for Rachel Williams to be the next target. It was easy to create a fake Facebook profile and make contact with her on Marketplace. I didn’t even put too much thought into the name, only finding it amusing that I used the pet name, Peggy, that Grandmother used to call you.
I made sure Rachel understood before she died that she had sinned, listened to her cry and apologise and tell me it wasn’t her fault before I burned her alive in her car.
That’s what they always do, protest their innocence while begging for my mercy. It sickens me and only makes me want to hurt them more.
I had planned to go to Norfolk next, wanting to end this before your last anniversary. Our bloody father ruined that plan though. When I heard he had fallen from the ladder, I hoped he was dead. But no chance of that. He survived the fall and my assistance was required.
You would probably tell me I shouldn’t have gone, that I should have been strong enough to say no and continued on my mission to avenge you, but you have to understand, I really didn’t have a choice. Since that night, knowing what they are capable of, I have never been able to deny them. Don’t get me wrong, I desperately wish our parents didn’t have this hold over me, but it is like a compulsion. I have to do as I am told. They are the only people in this world who genuinely scare me.
That month, spent at their new home, helping to nurse him, gave me a new perspective, allowed me time to plot and make sure I got this right. I understood that I didn’t want to just watch them die, I wanted to get to know them so when the time came to kill them, they would feel that same betrayal. I decided not to rush things, taking gardening leave from my job and moving to Norfolk.
It was easy to befriend them all, Fern and Janice eager for friends, while Gary had been desperate for a girlfriend, frequenting every dating site. I hooked him on Plenty of Fish (get it?) and he was desperate for the connection, happy to talk, worried he might scare me away if he pushed me into meeting him too quickly. It was simple to set up his death. Olivia had been moaning about being stitched up with the property on Honington Lane and when I googled it, I knew it was perfect, while Gary was only too happy to participate in my kinky little game. The fat pig had become apprehensive when he realised how much chain I was using to bind him to the chair, but by then it was too late.
Howard had also been an easy pick-up, though far pushier. I knew I would have to sleep with him to keep his interest, but a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do, right?
Olivia Blake is the one I have always held mostly responsible though. I know it was Fern’s prank, but Olivia is the one who tricked you with her fake friendship. If she had never done that, you would still be alive. We ‘met’ in a yoga class and it was easy to work my way into her life, starting with the occasional coffee date or drink after work. I had followed her for a few weeks before I introduced myself, found out what I could from social media about her likes and dislikes. I made sure I was fun to hang out with, interested in her boring life, and always there for her.
It was easy to put on a wig and lure her boyfriend, Toby, into bed, my phone hidden and recording everything. Even easier to transfer it to his phone while he was in the shower and upload it on to his Facebook profile. He was history once Olivia saw that, turning to her new best friend for comfort and support.
I look at her now, head down, chin against her chest. She is still unconscious, held in position by the cuffs that bind her to the chair. She is starting to stir, though, and I know I will soon witness that delicious moment of confusion, betrayal and fear as she comprehends what is happening.
‘You crazy fucking psycho. Let me go!’
My shoulders tense as the other bitch speaks and I again regret removing her gag. Out here, with so much silence around us, I want to be able to talk to them, listen to them beg, and feed off their screams as they die. Fern hasn’t shut up, though, going from sobbing to screaming in rage, and, honestly, it is starting to give me a headache. I glance over my shoulder at her, where she lies in the empty swimming pool, writhing on my crudely constructed cross. After two days with no food or water, I had hoped she would have a little less energy.
‘We’re just waiting for your friend to join us,’ I tell her, trying to keep my voice calm. ‘It shouldn’t be much longer now.’
Olivia is murmuring now, trying to lift her head.
I open my water bottle, splash some in her face, and it shocks her into consciousness. She gasps, her eyes flying open and gradually coming into focus.
She looks at me, blinking, then at her surroundings and I see her taking it all in, the large dark room with a domed ceiling, lit by orange lanterns that cast flickering shadows across the wall ahead of her.
Fern is yelling abuse again and Olivia’s attention drops to where her old friend is chained to the bottom of the pool. She looks back at me, her eyes widening in horror.
‘Molly?’
She tries to move, realises she can’t. Her struggles becoming more frantic.
‘You’re awake. Good.’
‘Molly? What the hell’s going on? Untie me.’
Instead of answering, I disappear behind her, liking this level of control as Olivia tries to twist round to see where I am.
‘Molly? Seriously, what the fuck?’
‘She’s not Molly,’ Fern tries to raise her head. ‘Why do you keep calling her that? Her name’s Meg. And she’s a fucking psycho. I’ve been here for days. She left me tied up in a cupboard. No food, no water.’
‘What?’ Olivia is still in shock, trying to comprehend what the hell is going on, still attempting to understand that her best friend, the woman she has shared a house with for the last year, is about to betray her trust in the worst possible way.
That’s okay. Shock is fine. Shock is good. She still has time to get used to her predicament, to understand why she is here. All I need from her at the moment are her eyes.
Fern’s whining, though, is getting on my nerves. It is time for her to repent.
