‘Please. Just let me go,’ I say, thick tears starting to fall.
I look into his wide unhinged eyes and see that he has no intention of letting me go. Not until he’s got what he wants. Oh my God. This is happening. I’ll be able to fight him off, right? But what if he gets a knife and threatens to kill me? Would I rather get raped and live, or die? OK, think straight. There must be a bathroom here someone, it must have a lock. Just get there and ring someone.
‘I’m...I’m just going to go to the toilet.’ I attempt a natural smile.
I turn and bolt for it, running to the top of the stairs as quickly as my legs will carry me. I dive into the bathroom, turning round to shut the door. I’ve almost closed it when something wedges in its way. His foot. How did he get up here so fast? I look at him, pleading with my eyes for him not to touch me.
‘You freshen yourself up sweetheart. You’re gonna fucking love this,’ he snarls, smirking as he reaches out and strokes my breast and begins to remove his belt.
‘O..OK, I will,’ I stammer, throwing his hand off and slamming the door shut, locking it as fast as I can.
I sit on the toilet seat and sob, my whole body trembling. How could I have been so stupid? I’m one of those stupid cows you see on Crime Watch that walk down dark alleyways alone at night. I’ve brought this all on myself. I get my phone out and call Jazz again.
‘Hey, this is Jazz...’
Fucking voicemail! OK, think, think! I call Izzy again, but no answer. I would call Oliver, but I know he’s on a stag weekend in Bournemouth. I can't call Richard or Henry. I just can't. They think I’m an idiot as it is. They’d probably just shout at me. There’s only one person I can call and I really, really don't want to call him.
I type in his name and he picks up after two rings.
‘Hello?’
‘R...Ryan,’ I stammer down the phone in between sobs. ‘I’m...I’m in trouble.’
‘What's wrong? Where are you?’ he says, his voice full of concern.
‘I don't know where I am! I’m at this guy Tom’s house and he just...well...I just get the feeling that he won't let me go.’
I can't seem to say what I suspect might happen if I unlock this door. That would make it too real.
‘Poppy, what are you talking about? Just walk out the door.’
‘He’s locked the door. You don't understand. He’s being really forceful.’
‘Poppy, you need to call the police. They’ll be able to trace your call.’
‘No! I don't want the police. What could I say? I think someone might try it on with me, but I’m not sure. They’ll just laugh at me. Can't you just pick me up?’
‘But if I don't know where you are?’
‘Please,’ I beg, the sobs thick and heavy on my chest.
‘OK, calm down. Look out of the window and describe to me what you can see.’
I pull back the blind and open the top window so that I can see out. The fresh air on my face reminds me again that this isn’t a horrible nightmare.
‘I’m somewhere near Harrow. We were in the car for about five minutes. Um...I can see a church tower and there’s a train station next to it, but I can't see what the name of the station is.’
‘Did you pass Homebase?’
‘Yes! Yes, I remember a Homebase.’
‘I think I know where you are. Stay there. I’ll be there soon.’
He hang ups and I press my ear to the door, trying to sense whether he’s still lurking outside. I think he’s gone. Not that it means that I’m leaving this toilet. No way.
About ten minutes later Tom knocks on the door.
‘What’s the hold-up sweetheart?’ He sounds even more wasted.
‘Um….I’m just getting ready. Be out soon.’
Please God, Ryan, find me and be quick. Another ten minutes later I hear a knock at the door. That can't be Ryan. Can it? How would he know what house I was in?
I hear a few loud shouts and my stomach flips even more nervously. What if he’s called some friends? What if they all think they’re going to have a party with me? I lean over the sink and pull my hair back as I heave violently. Footsteps creep up the stairs. Someone’s coming up the stairs. They’re coming to get me. That pathetic lock won't hold it. They’re going to get me.
I frantically open the bathroom cabinet trying to find some sort of weapon. My shaking hands throw the contents into the sink. I sift through it all until I find some small nail scissors. They’ll do. I clasp it in my hand, ready to stab them in the eyeball. I’m ready. I’m tough and I’m ready. Someone bangs loudly on the door and I instantly cower away from it, no longer feeling brave.
‘Go away!’ I shout as aggressively as I can.
‘Pops, it's me,’ Ryan calls.
‘Ryan?’
I open the door to find him flustered, his curls in every different position. I throw myself into his arms, not caring how desperately pathetic I look. He pulls me close into his chest as I break into angry urgent sobs. I’m finally safe. His strong arms will protect me.
‘Are you OK?’ he asks, stroking my hair.
I nod unconvincingly, not even breaking away from his chest to look at him.
‘How did you know which house it was?’ I ask, breaking myself away from him for an instant, before throwing myself back into his arms.
‘Jazz phoned home saying her battery had died and had we heard from you. I asked if she knew this Tom and she gave me his address.’
‘Oh.’
He pulls back and points to my clenched hand. ‘What's with the scissors?’ he asks raising an eyebrow, smiling.
‘It's a weapon, obviously,’ I say wiping my nose.
‘What were you planning on doing? Manicuring him to death? Come on, let’s go down.’
‘I don't know,’ I hesitate. ‘Are you sure we’re safe now?’
‘Pops, it's over. Come on.’
I walk very slowly behind him down the stairs, straining my head to hear anything, but all I get back is an eerie silence. I peer around the corner and see Tom and his friend on the floor, cradling their heads. Blood is coming out of Tom’s mouth and his eyes are red and puffy, as if he’s been crying.
Ryan walks over and takes Tom by his neck, dragging him towards me. I flinch back.
‘Tom’s got something to say to you,’ Ryan snarls.
‘I’m sorry Poppy. I didn’t mean to,’ Tom cries. His shirt is ripped and he looks pathetic. But that doesn’t stop me wanting to run away from him.
‘Can we just go?’ I ask Ryan, wanting to leave this nightmare behind.
‘Course. Come on.’ He guides me out to the car, wiping tears from my face. ‘You’re safe now.’
* * *
‘Can we get a McDonalds?’ I ask, my stomach growling as we queue up in the petrol station.
‘In a minute,’ he snaps. ‘God, you’re like a child sometimes.’ He smiles.
‘Well I’m very sorry! But I’m starving.’
He rolls his eyes.
‘Jazz is probably eating by now,’ I say under my breath, my stomach growling.
‘Have some crisps then.’ He grabs some off the shelf and hands them over to me.
‘Oh yeah, thanks.’
I rip the bag open and stuff some in my mouth, letting the strong flavour of salt and vinegar take over. My God, it's like I haven’t eaten in years. Let alone something this delicious!
‘Mmmmm,’ I moan before I can stop myself.
‘You OK there?’ he says, looking at me, his mouth twitching in amusement.
‘U-huh,’ I say, my mouth full.
‘I can't believe this queue.’
‘EVERYBODY GET FUCKIING DOWN!’ a gruffly voice shouts from nowhere/
‘What the?’
But I’m already being pulled to the floor by Ryan. I look around and everyone’s on the floor, the whole queue. A man behind me is praying, his eyes closed, rosary beads in his hands. Who the hell carries rosary beads around with them? The woman behind him is crying.
Whereas I still don't know what the hell is going on! I try to look towards the front but I can't see anything, shelves of car oil blocking my view.
‘What's going on?’ I whisper to Ryan who’s got his arms protectively around me.
‘Some kids are robbing the place,’ he says, not looking at me.
Oh my God. I’m one of those people you see on the news. I’ve been a victim of crime. I thought there was more chance of you getting hit on the head with a coconut or something like that? I was sure I’d heard it on the news? Or maybe it was something Jazz had read in one of her stupid magazines. It probably wasn’t a fact at all.
A woman in-front with frizzy hair turns to face us, tears streaming down her face, her whole body shaking so uncontrollably that her teeth chatter.
‘Don't worry,’ I whisper holding onto her hand. ‘It’ll be over soon.’
Since when did I get so calm in an emergency? But then I suppose, I have already had a pretty traumatic night. Maybe I’ll never be scared again.
But then I think of Jazz. What if she comes looking for us? What if she gets involved in it all and ends up getting shot? Or kidnapped or something? Oh my God! Now my teeth are chattering.
‘Hey,’ she says, suddenly seeming a little calmer. ‘Aren’t you the guy from the paper?’
I follow her gaze and realise she's staring at Ryan.