Page 66 of Don't Say A Word
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I was dreaming that I was the one in the freezer and I couldn’t get out. I wake with a start. When I open my eyes, the light is barely coming through the curtains.
‘Kate?’
‘Jesus!’ I sit up with a jolt. Holly is standing there, at the foot of the bed, watching me.
‘Holly!’ My heart is pounding. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Did you do it?’
She looks pained.
‘Holly… I…’
‘Did you do it?’ she repeats.
I shake my head. ‘I couldn’t. I’m sorry.’
‘What?’
‘Something happened. The place I was going to put him in is… It was blocked.’
‘Kate!’ she shouts. ‘You said you would do it!’
‘I know, but I couldn’t. I tried. I really tried.’ I sit up properly and swing my legs out of bed. My entire body is aching. I didn’t just have to pull him out, I had to wrestle him back in. And that took even longer.
‘You didn’t do it?’
‘Icouldn’tdo it.’
She pulls at her hair. ‘Are you actually telling me that he’s still in there? For real?’
‘I tried. I really tried, Holly. You’ve got no idea how hard I tried. I spent hours driving around, but it just didn’t happen.’
‘No!’ she screams. ‘You said you would do it. You promised!’
I get up, reach for her, to take her in my arms, but she won’t let me.
She’s pulling at her hair, sobbing, tears blasting out of her eyes, her face turning red. ‘I don’t believe you! You’re lying to me!’
‘What do you mean? Why would I lie about something like that? You think I want him in there?’
‘You didn’t even try. You just pretended to.’
‘That’s not true!’
‘You’re lying!’ She runs out of the room.
I shower – again. God knows I showered last night. I get dressed. I glance in her bedroom on the way past. She’s not there. I check the garage. After I took him out of the car, I cleaned the back seat with bleach, and now that’s all you can smell.
When I took off my clothes last night, I put them in a bin liner that I left in the corner of the garage. I pick it up on the way out. I’ll get rid of it somewhere later, when I go grocery shopping.
‘Holly?’
I look for her everywhere, thinking she’s sulking, but she’s not home. I leave her a phone message. ‘I’m sorry, all right? I really tried. Don’t be mad. I’ll see you later.’
I put on a load of laundry. My arms are so sore, I can barely lift anything.
