Chapter 55

SHOWREEL

Candice said, “It’s really evil that Italy’s mum, like, died.”

Jasmine hurried down the road. She wanted to be home. Her mum was back. She’d called and said, “Jasmine, where are you?” and Jasmine had lied and said, “I’m at Candice’s” when she was actually hanging around with some friends, some of them smoking.

Mum had said, “Come home, wherever you are.”

“I’m at Candice’s.”

“I don’t care. Come home.”

Mum knew she was lying. Mum always knew. But Jasmine knew things too. She knew that fear had laced her mother’s voice when she’d spoken to her on the phone. And it was the same fear that had stalked Barrowmore since the murders.

Candice, walking alongside Jasmine, went on. “I mean I wished, like, she was dead, like. Not Italy’s mum, like, but Italy, ‘cause she’s been getting off with Tyler, like, and I’ve been sick, Jasmine, really sick with it.”

“You can’t wish people dead, Candice.”

“Why not, babe?”

“You can’t.”

“I’m cold. Can I get your top, babe? Till tomorrow.”

Jasmine took off her hoodie. She had a thick jumper underneath that kept the cold at bay. As she handed over her hoodie, Candice, taking it, said, “You think it’s Jack the Ripper?”

Jasmine furrowed her brow. “What?”

“Like, someone said they found his knife or something. Found Jack the Rippers knife.

They said, like, he was reincarnated or something. He’s come back from the dead. I mean, he killed . . . I mean, he killed your auntie, yeah? He killed her ages ago.”

Jasmine shivered. She felt cold all over. She quickened her pace. Her head filled with pictures, and she tried to shut them out, but they had stained her mind. They made her sick. They made her scared. They made her cry but now she kept the tears at bay, biting her lip.

“Why are you walking so fast, man?” said Candice.

Jasmine nearly said, Because I’m trying to get away from the pictures in my head of someone cutting my aunt open and pulling out her guts.

But she said nothing. She held her breath. The images reeled, like a film. It was worse than Saw and worse than Hostel. Jasmine had seen both those films at Candice’s place. Candice’s big brother had them on DVD. They were horrible films, but the showreel in her head right now made those movies seem like Disney.

“Are you coming to tae kwon do tonight?” said Candice. “Cause I don’t think Tyler’s going, like, as he’s distressed about Italy’s mum, so I don’t think I’ll go neither, and maybe I’ll go round to Tyler’s, see if he’s okay. You think I should do that?”

“I’ve got to go, Candice,” said Jasmine, wanting to run.

The pictures in her head were clearer than they’d ever been. She’d always seen them, mostly as if through gauze. But in the past few days, it was like normal TV suddenly becoming HDTV. And even 3D TV. Everything became clearer. The blood was redder. The guts were wetter. The knife was sharper. The screams were louder. And Aunt Rachel was screaming Jasmine’s name, begging her niece, who was unborn when she was murdered, to save her from the Ripper.

She left Candice gawping near the stairwell on Monsell House and raced up the high rise. She was in a panic, the pictures in her head just not fading. And as she ran along the walkway towards her front door, she failed to see the man blocking her path until the very last moment.

And by then it was too late.