Amber’s oblivion now switched to panic. She struggled to breathe, taking in shallow and frantic puffs of air. Her throat was tightening, and she felt dizzy. She was going to die. Oh God, no! Please don’t let me die like this. Amber clawed at his arms, trying to pull them away from her throat. She was getting nowhere. Kev tightened his deadly grip.
In a last desperate attempt to free herself, she lifted her knee and aimed it hard at his crotch. Yelling in agony, he grasped his genitals. She felt relieved, but light-headedness stopped her resuming her escape bid.
Struggling to get her breath back, Amber stood still for a moment, watching Kev squeal in agony. He would soon recover. She had to do something. Fighting was no good; he was too big and strong. Her body was throbbing where he had hit her. And she knew she would be no physical match for him. But he did have a weak spot.
Amber decided to use it to her advantage. ‘You don’t really want to kill me, do you, Kev?’ she asked. ‘You’ve already lost your mother.’
His head shot up, despite his pain. ‘Don’t you fuckin’ dare mention my mother!’ he said.
‘It’s only because I know how you feel, Kev. I’ve lost my mother too, and only recently.’
She could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes, so she persisted even though she was nervous. It felt like prodding a scab with a big stick. ‘My mother wasn’t like yours, Kev. She did some bad things. But your mother was good, wasn’t she?’
‘She was a fuckin’ saint for what she had to put up with!’
The anger was still there but she sensed a softening as well. So, she persevered: ‘You don’t want to lose another woman who’s special to you, do you, Kev?’
She could see his hesitation. His doubt about where he stood with her. Maybe she’d said the wrong thing. Amber knew she had to play him just right. It could mean the difference between life and death.
‘Your father hurt her didn’t he, Kev?’
‘Yes!’ he shouted, pulling his hands away from his genitals and examining his palms with a bewildered expression. Staring at those evil weapons! It was a vital clue. Was he thinking about Cora and what he had done? Maybe he was also thinking about them. Their relationship. His constant battle to retain control. The tremendous effort not to hurt the woman he loved despite his violent tendencies.
‘You saw it, didn’t you, Kev?’
His look of confusion was now suffused with pain, and the tears slid unknowingly down his face.
‘You saw him kill her, didn’t you? You saw him strangle her.’
Amber held her breath as she waited for him to react. He’d tightened in on himself and appeared like a simmering cauldron about to boil over. It was clear that he was going through huge internal turmoil and she dreaded how it would manifest itself. But, instead of erupting in violence, he broke down, squealing like an overwrought toddler, his torment palpable. ‘I was only a fuckin’ kid!’ he screamed.
Kev then dropped to his knees, wailing at an excruciating pitch, his body convulsing with spasms of agonising emotion. Amber knew she’d guessed right. And she watched him crumple as the harrowing memories resurfaced. For a moment she felt sorry for him. She knew all about harrowing memories and what they could do to you.
Then she snapped to and, making the most of his moment of weakness, she ran. Out into the hallway. Through the door. Down the stairs. Out of the building. Feeling the harsh concrete rough on her feet. And scattered stones cutting her soles.
Still she kept running. No turning back. Unsure if he was close behind. Her lungs screaming for air.
She didn’t stop till she could run no more. Taking just a moment to check behind her, she continued walking swiftly, trying to regain her breath. There was no one there. But she didn’t know how far away Kev was or whether he’d even followed her.
Amber couldn’t afford to take any chances. She had to keep moving. And, after today, she would need to get away. It was the only way she would feel safe. She had to escape to a place where he would never think of looking for her.
64
May 2016
The woman on the reception desk of the massage parlour looked Amber up and down distastefully, her nostrils twitching as though detecting a bad odour. This immediately put Amber on her guard. Did she smell? She did her best to keep clean, but it wasn’t always easy when all you had were the public toilets and a packet of baby wipes.
‘Yes, what can I do for you?’ the woman asked.
Amber had met her type before; painstakingly preened and trying her best to sound well-spoken in a vain attempt to hide whatever misfortunes in life had led her to work in a glorified brothel. Her attempt had failed, and Amber could spot the guttural accent of the inner-city suburbs, which accompanied her anguished facial expression. Despite all this, Amber was aware that the woman’s groomed appearance was a vast contrast to her own.
‘I was wondering if you’re taking on any new girls,’ said Amber.
The woman pulled her head back as if shocked that she should even ask such a question. Her words underlined her attitude. ‘This is a high-class establishment!’
Amber wasn’t in the mood for hidden insults. She’d prefer it if the silly cow just came straight to the point. ‘Is that a yes or a no then?’
‘I’m afraid it’s a no. Like I say, we’re a high-class establishment.’
Amber couldn’t hide her look of resignation and her shoulders slumped as she stood back from the reception desk ready to depart. The woman seemed to regret her harsh words and quickly added, ‘You could always try somewhere else. There’s a place up the road that might consider you.’
‘Cheers,’ mumbled Amber, already on her way out.
There
