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Back Because She Loves Me Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication Page
  4. Contents
  5. One
  6. Two
  7. Three
  8. Four
  9. Five
  10. Six
  11. Seven
  12. Eight
  13. Nine
  14. Ten
  15. Eleven
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Sixteen
  21. Seventeen
  22. Eighteen
  23. Ninteen
  24. Twenty
  25. Twenty-one
  26. Twenty-two
  27. Twenty-three
  28. Twenty-four
  29. Twenty-five
  30. Twenty-six
  31. Twenty-seven
  32. Twenty-eight
  33. Twenty-nine
  34. Thirty
  35. Thirty-one
  36. Thirty-two
  37. Thirty-three
  38. Thirty-four
  39. Thirty-five
  40. Thirty-six
  41. Thirty-seven
  42. Thirty-eight
  43. Thirty-nine
  44. Forty
  45. Forty-one
  46. Forty-two
  47. Epilogue
  48. Letter From the Author
  49. Acknowledgements
  50. About the Author

I must have fallen into a drunken sleep after a long time fidgeting on the sofa. The next thing I knew, someone was hissing my name.

‘Andrew.’

I opened my eyes, groggy and confused. ‘What? What is it?’

‘I think someone just tried to get in.’

I sat up. Sasha was in a pair of fleece pyjamas, holding a bread knife.

‘What the hell are you doing with that?’ I asked.

She just looked at me with wild eyes.

‘Sasha, put it back. What happened?’

‘I put the chain on the door before I went to bed. I just heard it rattle. Someone was trying to get in.’

I pulled on my jeans and hobbled over to the front door. I wouldn’t be much use with my bad leg if I needed to chase someone. Or run away. The door seemed securely closed, the chain in place. I slid it back and opened the door, looking out into the hallway, which always smelled of some kind of meat stew.

‘Hello?’ I said, my voice echoing in the darkness. I stepped into the hall.

‘Don’t go out there,’ Sasha said, peering through the doorway behind me.

‘It’s fine. There’s no one here.’

Sasha went back inside and I heard her pad over to the window. Then she shouted, ‘There!’

I rushed in, as fast as I could – which was frustratingly slowly – and found her pointing at the street.

‘Down there,’ she said, her voice squeaking. ‘I saw someone. They went behind that van.’

‘Call the police,’ I said.

‘But—’

‘Please, Sasha. Just do it.’

She went off to find her mobile in the bedroom. When she came back, her face was so pale it was almost transparent.

‘There was a new message on my phone,’ she said. ‘Like the ones I got before. But worse.’

She gulped.

‘What does it say?’ I asked, still looking at the street. I couldn’t see anybody out there. The wind was still blowing hard.

‘Take a look,’ Sasha said, handing me the phone.

There were two words on the screen, written in block capitals.

YOU’RE DEAD.

Twenty-four

Twenty-four

Neither Sasha nor I could get back to sleep after that. I sat on the sofa drinking weak coffee while she paced the room, staring out the window and checking the chain was on the door every two minutes. By the time the sun came up I was exhausted, had that post-red-eye flight feeling, scratchy eyes and fuzzy brain.

The text had been sent from a blocked number. A quick Google search showed us how easy this is to do: there are numerous apps that allow you to either create a fake number to send from or block the caller ID altogether.

As soon as it got light, Sasha called a locksmith, telling them it was an emergency, and they promised to arrive within the hour.

‘You need to call the police next,’ I said.