The noise of the letter box shutting echoed through the house. Knowing she had to confront her fears, she stood walked around the corner and stared at the landing. There was a note lying on the door mat. Rooted to the spot she turned her head and looked in the mirror. She saw herself, a small dark woman in love with the man of her dreams. She smiled. A face appeared in the mirror behind her. She recognised it instantly; it had been plastered in the news for days. She screamed. A hand was being raised to her head. Her arm trembled as she tried to move it but she just couldn’t. She turned quick enough to grab the hand, but there was nothing when she turned.
She turned back to the mirror and straightened her jacket, picking fluff from her sleeve. She was totally freaking herself out. Behind her she saw the photo of her and her husband fall to the floor. The glass smashed.
In sheer horror she darted down the stairs, grabbed the note from the mat and left, through the door that had started her horror. The door shut behind her, she opened the note. An eye stared back at her. It was a drawing, some kind of logo. A border surrounded the eye. This was too weird to be true. She stood for a moment wondering whether she was just being stupid and should just return inside the house. She didn’t understand but she knew now that she couldn’t just be imagining a note, it was solid hard proof in her hands, that supernatural things were happening to her.
As her instinct told her, she ran. As fast as her legs would carry her, she sprinted the further away the better, or so she thought. She managed to get as far as the train station on the sea border. You could still see her house from there but she felt at a safe distance. Not really knowing what to do now, she dawdled into the train station.
Why not? As she stood on the platform she began to think. Why don’t I just go? Nothing’s keeping me here? He hasn’t been home in days. Why should I bother to stay at home and do nothing, just waiting for him to return? I’ll go. A final step took her onto the train. She sat in the closest seat, next to an old woman smoking a pipe and reading a paper.
Time and scenery rushed by. A sudden noise made Justine look through the door to the carriage. She could see her in there. She knew that it wasn’t her fault but someone had to find out the truth and she was the only one that the girls could relate to. She pushed the door. That was all it needed. She had got her attention. Justine didn’t know why she was staring at her so disbelievingly, maybe because she was supposed to be dead, or it could have been the fact that her eyes were bordered with the same border as the paper she had poster through her door earlier in the day. All she knew was that she needed her off the train.
The train whistled to a slow stop. They were only two miles away. Justine walked off the train and they followed her. But then she stopped. The women didn’t know why. Justine lay down in the bank at the side of the road.
The women felt dizzy. Time was rushing past her, backwards. A girl was walking towards her. A car approached. It was black in colour; it was her husband’s car. As the girl approached the driver of the car got out and walked with no difference to his normal walk to the girl. He was wearing a large leather coat and a dark blue baseball hat that shadowed his face. He acted shifty and had his right hand in his pocket. He whispered a few words into the girl’s ear. She seemed offended by them and began to walk away. As she began to walk away the man took a pointed dagger out of his pocket and lunged at the girl. It ripped into the girls back. The girl screamed and fell to the floor. The woman could not believe what she just saw and fell to her knees in disbelief. He stood over the girl and pulled the dagger out of her body. He wiped it clean with her handkerchief and placed it back inside his pocket. He then walked over to his car opened the boot and flung the girl in as if she was just a dirty rubbish bag. He looked around and then slammed the car boot shut. She began to feel dizzy again. What was happening? The girl was stood in front of her. She muttered five words and then disappeared. “It was him, stop him!”
The woman felt the sensation she had earlier in the day. She needed to run, so she did, all the way back to her house. Why did everything appear so innocent? There had been murders and the worst thing was, it was her husband that had committed them. What was she going to do? What could she do?
