Saturday 22 January, 23:55
She jolted awake. Kennington; her stop. She jumped up and scrambled to get off the tube. She made it just in time. The doors slid shut behind her and she laughed in relief. She’d only just caught the last tube and she didn’t fancy having to walk all the way back to Kennington from Oval at this time of night.
She glanced left and right, suddenly aware that there might be other people on the platform, but there was no one.
It was just her.
As she headed towards the exit, she felt sluggish. She staggered to the escalators, steadying herself on the handrail and wishing she hadn’t had that last cocktail. Why did she always have to have that extra one? And why had she bought them all shots? Still, how often did she get to see the girls? It had been a special occasion and she didn’t have to be at work until her Monday night shift at 10pm.
She stumbled at the top of the escalator and clattered forward on her heels, catching herself before she fell. Her footfall echoed around the empty station. She paused for a second to get her bearings as Kennington underground station spun slowly around her.
It was deserted – not even any staff around – and she was grateful. She’d hate for anyone to see her like this.
She tucked her hair behind her ears, took a big breath and tried to focus. She tapped herself out of the barrier, nearly dropping her police oyster card in the process, and cursed herself. If she lost that, it would cause her a lot of grief at work.
She shivered as the outside winter air hit her and the muggy, stale warmth of the underground was left behind. She pulled her red coat tighter around her. The street outside was dark and the pavement shiny with recent rainfall. Just as well it had stopped; she’d left her brolly on the tube. There was a break in the clouds, revealing a full moon, which was never good for police. Burglars loved a full moon. When the moon was so bright it was like a strange pale daylight; they didn’t have to announce their presence with torch light, instead relying on the moon’s beams to guide them through unlocked windows.
She looked left and right down Braganza street, but there was no one, so she set off along the side road – not far. Her footfall echoed down the deserted pavement and she picked up her pace, aware of how late it had become. She took out her mobile and scrolled to Luke, but stopped herself before she pressed dial. She’d got into the habit of calling him on the way home; it made her feel safer. But she couldn’t call him anymore.
She dropped her mobile back in her bag and sighed. Luke had been great when she’d first met him, so relaxed and could make her laugh easily, but after one too many drinks that all changed. His temper had scared her. She wouldn’t call him, even though she missed the Luke she’d first met and having someone to call.
A man thirty metres away, on her side of the road, snapped her out of her thoughts. He was walking towards her with purpose. She put him in his mid-thirties, his pace slow and steady, as if trying not to scare her. Never a good sign. She crossed the road – nice and relaxed, not showing any fear. They could smell it, she knew, and it galvanized the really bad ones.
She clutched her house keys inside her coat pocket as a weapon. She was too drunk to pose any real danger to him, but the sharp edges of the keys comforted her. They weren’t sharp enough to penetrate skin, but if it came to it, they could do some real damage to someone’s eyes.
The man glanced across the road at her but walked past, remaining on the opposite side. She released her tight hold on the keys as she checked behind her, but he’d turned the corner and was gone.
She re-crossed the road. She preferred this side. There were little front gardens with low walls – no looming hedges for someone to hide behind. The engine of a car hummed in the distance. Civilization. She was so close to home now – only a minute away.
There was a sudden thud to her right and she froze, rooted by fear. It had come from behind a bush in the garden next to her. She tightened her grip on her keys again, wishing she had a better weapon. Something scrabbled over the wall and darted away. She’d startled it. Her shoulders relaxed. Just a cat.
She tried to stifle a yawn, wondering if the kebab place around the corner from her flat would still be open. But it was past midnight and she didn’t fancy the extra walk with no guarantee of food at the end. Cheese on toast when she got home would have to do.
She turned into her street and relaxed. Not far now and then she could take her heels off. The arches of her feet ached and she knew she’d have blisters. Vanity over practicality, but she’d wanted to look good, to give herself a boost. The break-up with Luke had been tough.
She took her keys out of her pocket and turned down the pathway into the small front garden. She glanced down, skimming through her keys until she located the key fob to the communal front door.
There was a sudden sharp pain to the back of her head. She felt herself falling forward, but too fast to put her hands out, and her jaw collided hard with the concrete doorstep. For a moment she was stunned, felt nothing at all, and then white-hot pain burnt along her jawline.
She tasted rusty blood in her mouth. Before she could scream, there were fingers pressing tight into her windpipe, closing off her airway as her attacker straddled her back. Her hands scrabbled at the enclosing fingers, but she couldn’t pull them apart; they were vice-like and getting tighter. They felt rough, like Luke’s. She tried to turn her head to see who was behind her, but the hands had her neck pinned to the floor.
She swung her elbow back uselessly towards her attacker, failing to get her arm back far enough, the weight on her back restraining her against the cold ground. Her jaw screamed at her, the pain intensifying, and she realized with startling clarity that she was dying.
She shouted out, but all that came out was a strangled gurgling. Her lungs felt like they were burning, and she clawed frantically at the hands.
For a moment she thought of her mother, tiny and small in her big armchair – how fragile she’d seemed on her last visit and how she’d promised herself she’d see her more often.
Her vision faded, the edges becoming blurred. She couldn’t die; she wasn’t ready. Darkness seeped into her peripheral vision, slowly covering everything in black. She struggled harder, a last frantic effort, but her assailant’s grip didn’t budge.
She couldn’t leave her mother; it would kill her.
The pain was so intense now, like white fire burning inside her chest. She wanted it to stop. Please stop. And then it did. The blackness was complete and there was nothing.