This man, this animal that had taken her, he didn’t know anything about her – how she really felt, the thoughts in her head, the dreams that haunted her. Even though he thought he did. He kept calling her a slut and a whore. Sometimes he beat her. Other times, he tried to be gentle. Giving her food. Telling her he loved her. It was all an act. He was a twisted, sick, evil bastard.

Why had she got into his car? Why hadn’t she fought more when he drove her here? She’d left work feeling a little better than usual. She was off the following day and was going to pop to the shops to get some clothes for her next holiday, which wouldn’t be far away.

And suddenly, all decisions were taken away from her.

The worst thing about being in the cellar was that it had given her time to think, to reflect.

Her kidnapper didn’t realise that he wasn’t the scariest thing in her world. No. That was what was in her head. She’d done everything to avoid spending too much time on her own for so many years. Now, she had nothing but time. And sober, to boot. She’d come to a conclusion.

She wanted him to kill her.

Something inside her had died when Kevin did. Perhaps she should have had that grief counselling that was offered. It was shock, they said. But it was more than that. Her heart had shattered into a million pieces. Nobody she’d loved had ever died – even both sets of grandparents had still been alive back then. The concept that anybody – especially somebody her age that she worshipped – could just drop dead, blew her mind. And it wasn’t just that Kevin was gone. Her whole future had gone with him. The second time she’d tried to take her own life, they wanted her to talk to somebody, but she couldn’t. She was afraid that what she had to say would sound so mad they’d stick her in a padded white room.

Yes, she loved her parents, her dad especially. But it was time for it all to stop. And this way, they wouldn’t blame her. They wouldn’t know that in the end, she was glad. She hadn’t betrayed them by doing it herself. It had been done to her.

She wanted to get off this merry-go-round of pain.

Please, she thought. Please. Just make it stop.

CHAPTER 17

‘I think Fiona was seeing somebody, yes. I didn’t know her too well. Only that she was one of the Hollands. Everybody knows the family. You’d see her about the place. Since they closed our shop, either myself or Bart make the effort to get to Luttrell village once a week.’