I was. It’s all on me. And I’m certain that I will pay for all of this one day, whether it’s in this life or the next.
With thoughts like that, it’s easy to see why I have a craving for more alcohol.
Considering that my dark thoughts have now turned to the idea of eternal damnation, there is no way I can hope to fall asleep tonight unless I drink myself into a state of unconsciousness. Waking up with a hangover tomorrow might not be the best way of preparing for the meeting with Jimmy in the evening, but I can’t think that far ahead right now. Every hour is a momentous hurdle of mental torment to overcome, and it’s reached the point where I just need to do whatever it takes to make it to the next day without having some kind of a breakdown.
‘Do you want anything from the shop?’ I call up the stairs, but Chloe replies with a no, so I head for the door, eager to get on my way.
Being on the move is one of the few things that I have found help keep my scary thoughts at bay, besides white wine, of course, so I’m glad of the chance for a walk. As I head down the street in the direction of the corner shop, I wonder if killing Jimmy will be the end of the drama in my life or if there will be even more problems waiting for me on the horizon. I’d have thought that what happened with Tim was enough for one lifetime, but I’ve been proven wrong, and even now, I’m not convinced that this will be the end of it.
People like to say that life is fun because it’s unpredictable, but that’s almost laughable in my case. It’s that unpredictability that has allowed so much guilt, regret and fear to seep into my daily existence, and I’m now at the point where I feel like nothing could shock me.
Yes, life is unpredictable.
But that doesn’t make it fun.
It just makes it more likely to be cut short at any moment.
34
CHLOE
I’ve spent most of today waiting to see if Jimmy is going to issue me with a request for what to wear for our ‘encounter’ this evening, but so far, there has been nothing.
No message on my phone. No stipulations about the colour of the dress or choice of footwear. No hint at the kind of thing that might excite him, like with the red dress and heels that he made Mum put on for their meeting. Instead, he seems to be leaving it up to me to decide what I will be wearing when he arrives at the house in a few hours’ time, but I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
I’m already nervous enough as it is for tonight without having to figure out what I am going to wear as well. Of course, I’m not planning on having sex with him like Mum was, so I don’t really need to appear alluring when he sees me, but I suppose I have to make it at least look like I am going to comply with his demands. He will surely get suspicious if he walks into this house and I am wearing a pair of pyjamas and an old sweater.
I need to look sexy without making myself feel any more uncomfortable than I already do about this.
Opening up my wardrobe doors, I cast my eyes over the various garments inside, internally debating which of the many dresses to go with for tonight’s performance. I want something that looks good but is also practical so that rules out anything that’s too tight as it will restrict my movement in case I need to run. That also rules out all the pairs of high heels at the bottom of the wardrobe. I could hardly make a break for the staircase in them if Jimmy survives the stabbing, grabs the knife from Mum and comes after me.
I need to be light on my feet.
Then I have an idea.
I will wear my silk nightie, the one that I begged Mum to buy for me last Christmas even though she said that it was a little too skimpy. But it fits the bill of being sexy enough to distract Jimmy without causing me to lose any of my movement while wearing it. And if I do opt for the nightie, I can get away with wearing nothing on my feet, meaning I will be able to move quicker across the carpet should the need arise.
It’s perfect, so I take it out from where it hangs in the wardrobe and lay it on my bed, pleased that it is one less thing to worry about now.
After checking my phone again to make sure that Jimmy hasn’t suddenly sent through a last-minute costume request to scupper my plans, I head over to my dresser table, where I take a seat and prepare to make myself look beautiful. I don’t want to overdo it with the makeup, but I also don’t want to make Jimmy regret his decision to come here and be physical with me.
I want him to be so enamoured with the sight of me that he doesn’t even think for one minute that I will be the last thing he ever sees.
I have to admit that Mum’s plan is a bolshy one. Killing our blackmailer is certainly an effective way of dealing with the problem that he poses us, which is why I had been happy enough to agree to
