Authors: Lee Cockburn
His knife cut into Kay's throat just as Taylor leapt off her feet to stop him. Blood oozed from the wound as the knife started to cut. She hit him full on in the face with her shoulder, stopping the incision in its tracks. She punched his face over and over but all he did was laugh at her, although swellings and welts appeared where the blows landed. Taylor was no slouch when it came to self-defence and could convey power in her punches but she was up against a soulless unfeeling monster and her sustained attack had no affect on him. He slashed out towards Taylor, stabbing into her shoulder and stopping the assault instantly as her arm went limp, the blade going deep into her muscle, preventing her from using her arm at all. He turned her round and forced himself on top of her, grabbing her throat with his massive hand and squeezing hard in order to control her. His mind was now focused on raping Taylor as viciously as he could. His other hand tugged violently at her jeans, which were already sliced at the back. Her eyes were staring right at him but she was unable to speak as she started to float in and out of consciousness, thankfully, as she was aware of what his intention was and didn't want to be awake when he raped her and much more.
Marcus moved quickly round the house, peering in under the blinds of the living room. He could only just see certain areas of the floor. He caught a glimpse of a pool of blood and Kay's bloodied and badly swollen face. He was in two minds over what to do as he could make things worse for them if he tried to get in and failed, which would alert John to his presence.
Taylor's neck was released a little. Barely conscious, she kept up the struggle with every ounce of energy she had left within her, bumping her hips up from the floor to try and stop him entering her but she was becoming resigned to the fact that her
attempts to escape were now futile. He licked the beautiful skin on her stomach, his hands roughly pulling her legs apart, jeans now at her ankles, cruelly trapping her feet, his four thick fingers poised to enter her.
A blood curdling thud sounded loudly in the room as a ferocious blow struck right in the centre of the head, causing blood to spray across the walls like harsh rain on a windscreen, skin splitting with the force, and the sound of it echoing round the room. Again and again, over and over the sickening blows rained down on the exposed head, causing more and more damage, bone now splintering and brain matter starting to show as the strikes came in quick succession, the perpetrator relentless in their quest to kill.
Marcus squeezed though the bathroom hopper window, as armed response vehicles arrived further down the street outside. He could hear the violent blows reigning down in the other room and his heart sank deep into his chest. He thought Taylor must definitely be dead.
A loud hailer echoed through the night from the police gathered outside. It sent out clear instructions for Brennan to show himself and to come out through the front door unarmed with his hands up. The shuffle of stiff boots scuffed across the pavements outside as protected firearms officers moved quickly and efficiently into position and stopped. The sound of the sickening, frenzied and brutal assault could be heard from outside. There was no clear line of sight to take any sort of shot or even have a glimpse at who or what to shoot at, and they could only guess what was going on inside the house and where the target might be situated.
Eyes transfixed like that of a lifeless mannequin, Susan raised the baton above her head again and again, inflicting blow after blow on what remained of John's head. She was intent on killing him; she would not give him any chance to survive. She did not want to wound him; she wanted to kill him, to stop him haunting her forever. Taylor couldn't move with the dead weight of John on top of her, his frame had changed from rigid control to a lifeless weight lying full-weight over her. She could feel the vibration of every blow emanating though his body into her body, blood now flooding down on top of her, the weight restricting her breathing, the blood blinding her as it flowed onto her
face. Marcus rushed through to the living room, expecting to see Brennan murdering his best friend but he stopped dead in his tracks, mouth wide open. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Surprised, but relieved, he watched as Susan pummelled John's head beyond recognition. She was quite clearly making sure he couldn't hurt her ever again and her intention was definitely to kill him, not just stop him. He stalled, maybe deliberately, as he didn't want the monster to live either, and shits like him had a cockroach-like ability to survive, no matter how severe their injuries.
Ambulances appeared in the street as the door was crashed open by armed officers. The blood bath they were met with was one none of them had ever experienced before and would ever forget.
Marcus took hold of Susan with a certain level of control, with no intent to harm. She screamed, frantically turning in a threatening way towards him. She was so overwhelmed with emotion and fear that she thought she was being attacked by someone else. His strong arms engulfed her and held her in a non-aggressive manner, stopping her assault and controlling her with minimum force. He calmed her down with his warm friendly voice, his caring face, one she recognised from the investigation. All of a sudden she crumpled and Marcus nearly dropped her onto the floor as her legs could no longer hold her weight. Her wrists were weeping as there was no skin left on them; she had had to tear her own flesh off to escape from her bindings. She had listened to every blood curdling assault going on downstairs until she couldn't take it anymore. She knew if he killed them, she would be next, the grand finale, and he wouldn't get it wrong this time. She knew it and she had to act to have a chance to live. She finally lost it and used every ounce of strength and will she could muster to break out of her sadistic binds. Once free she found Taylor's baton at the side of the bed. Swinging it in the bedroom, she practised her first blow; she couldn't afford to get it wrong by not hitting him hard enough to count. Her faint into Marcus's arms took away the horror of her living hell, giving her instant solace and peace. He lay her down gently on the sofa and went to help the others. Kay was clearly in a bad way and Taylor looked badly injured too. Three women lay in the room, brutally violated. It was sickening to see. Marcus heaved Brennan's body unceremoniously
off Taylor, revealing his blood-soaked and wounded friend. Her eyes were open but blood was seeping into them, Brennan's blood, making her look frightening. He pulled her to him and held her tightly, letting her know everything was alright. She clung to him too, like a child to its mother.
“Keep your eyes closed, Taylor, it's mostly his blood on your face. Who knows what that twisted fuck might have done to you? The paramedics will rinse them out for you, âcause you look hideous.” She managed a laugh, her arms wrapped tightly round his waist. She needed him right now; she didn't want to let him go.
“Help Kay, please help Kay. I don't know if she's still with us, Marcus. I've not seen her move for a while.”
“Medic, medic, we need a medic!” Marcus shouted at the top of his voice, although they were already on their way into the room.
Marcus walked into the ward, four bouquets of flowers almost covering the whole upper body of his muscular frame. He asked the nearest nurse if she could help him with them, which she did and then he asked where to go. He stopped off at the first ward and asked the nurse to give the first two bunches of flowers to his colleague Fran, and to Susan. He then walked further up the corridor to the first of the high dependency single rooms where Kay lay; she was in an induced coma so he left the flowers with the ward sister, squeezed Kay’s hand and whispered positive words into her ear. Finally, he moved on with more enthusiasm, up to the last single room on the right of the corridor. ‘Taylor Nicks’ was written in thick black felt pen on the white board outside. He smiled as he read her name and said it out loud to himself, just to ensure he believed that she was still alive. He had visualised what he thought was going on in that house, when he heard the blood-curdling blows crunching into their target the night before: Taylor being the victim. He swung round the door and his smile beamed from ear to ear when he saw her sitting up in bed. Bruises covered her face but she still had that old twinkle in her eyes, sincere, alluring and very much alive. She beamed
back at Marcus, her giant smile hurt her face as she made it, but she was truly pleased to see him. She beckoned him forward for a warm embrace. He could feel her emotion, her need for his strength and security right now. She had been beaten yesterday and Brennan would have killed her. It unnerved her to know how close she had come to dying.
“Where were you last night, you little shit? You took your bloody time.”
Marcus made a face of someone affected by the comment. His face was one of humour and warmth, but he knew if he’d gone there sooner, things might have been very different. He also knew Taylor was joking.
“I was taking a leaf out of your book and giving you your space to savour your night. How was I to know? I’m so sorry, Taylor.”
“Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t your fault. It took a woman to save me though, eh?” She poked him in the ribs with her elbow and gave him a relieved smiled. “I couldn’t give two hoots who saved me, I’m just so lucky she did. Where is Susan? How is she?”
Marcus just smiled at her and said, “Thank goodness she did save you. Thank goodness she had the strength and will to do it. Many would have just given up or been too frightened to!”
“I know, bless her,” Taylor smiled again.
“She’s just up the corridor, near to where Fran is,” Marcus said innocently.
Taylor’s face flushed a little with mixed feelings of guilt and sadness, and a momentary vision of the encounter they had shared.
“How is Fran doing? I hope she’s going to be okay. This is going to screw her up a bit.” She paused and then said, “A lot, and for a long time.”
Tears welled up in Taylor’s eyes. She asked, “How’s Kay? How is she? She looked in a really bad way yesterday, I thought he’d killed her.”
“She’s still in a coma and has only just come out of intensive care, so that must be a good sign, although she’s not out of the woods yet!”
“I don’t deserve her you know, Marcus. I’ve let her down, really, really badly and she doesn’t need someone like me in her life.”
“Whatever you’ve done, whatever it is, she’ll forgive you. She
knows you. She knew what you were like before she chose to be with you and, believe me, she will definitely need you after this.”
“I love her, and the old me just couldn’t let a situation like that go by without savouring it,” she said referring to her encounter with Fran. “I wouldn’t do it again you know. Not now, not ever. I would never have forgiven myself if he’d killed her!”
¤¤¤
Andrew sat by Susan’s bedside holding her bruised hand. For the first time in months she smiled with peace in her heart. Her eyes gazed at him, free from the terror that had stalked her to the brink of death, eyes now calm and not those of a scared little girl.
“I love you so much, Andrew,” Susan whispered.
Andrew smiled at her, stood up and kissed her bruised forehead with great tenderness and said, “I love you back with all my heart but I hope things will get slightly easier for us in the future.”
Both laughed a bit, both scarred and seriously injured by the same demon, he who had only made them stronger, and they laughed at that even more, because he had failed in what he had set out to do.
Fran sat up and stared at the flowers. Marcus had signed the card from Taylor and himself. Her mind floated back to their night at the hotel. She knew she had feelings for Taylor and they weren’t just lustful. She sighed and touched the card gently, rubbing her thumb over Taylor’s name, almost caressing it. She wished the kisses on the card were real and she could feel her lips against hers once again and relive those wonderful feelings they had shared. She smiled as her mum came into the room. She put the flowers to one side, just as she thought she should do with Taylor, but could she?
Findlay took the call from the Super. He had been summoned to his office first thing that morning, and these invites tended not to be for praise. Findlay banged his desk with force, cursing loudly at everyone apart from himself; he never saw any fault in any of his actions or lack of them, although they were clear for everyone else to see. He had failed as a leader and made several wrong decisions in the way he had handled the case from start to finish.
John’s body was zipped back into the bag after autopsy, the cause of death quite apparent to even the untrained eye. There was very little skull left to speak of and parts of his brain were exposed. Susan had made sure she had killed him and that he couldn’t hurt another person ever again. The marks unfortunately proved a different scenario from that of self-defence; they clearly showed intent to kill. The wounds had not been intended merely to injure, they had been ferociously inflicted, a definite intent to take a life. John would have been rendered defenceless after the first few blows and there must have been close to twenty five strikes to his head that could be proven as individual injuries. The pathologist finished writing his report and submitted it to the fiscal.
A couple of days had passed and Susan was starting to feel a little better; her progress was good and she would be discharged soon. The nurses left the room after telling her the good news. As they were leaving, officers appeared outside the ward and asked where Susan’s bed was. They had legal papers in their hands. Their heads were lowered with embarrassment at the system they had to follow to ensure justice was afforded to all parties, even those who didn’t deserve it. Any reasonable person looking at the circumstances of the case would feel that there had been no crime committed and that Brennan deserved every single blow he got and more. Unfortunately for Susan, she would have to stand trial. She would have to fight once more - this time to prove her innocence. She would have to make her case for self defence and the preservation of the lives of others, giving her justification for the level of violence she had used on that night. Her sanity would be called into question and she would have to relive the ordeal all over again.