We stumble through the cellar and burst out into the daylight, then we run towards the forest, fully expecting to hear a gunshot blast ring out behind us. He must be watching us now from one of the upper windows. I can feel his gaze lasering me from behind as I run, my lungs burning with the effort.

When we break into the woodland and are hidden by the trees, so we can pause finally for breath, the panic spins like a whirlwind inside me. I lean against a tree trunk, my whole body shaking from adrenaline, the world tipping and sliding beneath my feet. What just happened? I can’t quite comprehend it. And what was that in the room hanging from those hooks?

Liam wipes a trembling hand across his sweaty brow and bends at the waist, his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

‘What was that?’ I whisper, the horror of what we just saw indelibly imprinted on my brain. ‘In the room? What was it?’

Liam shakes his head. ‘A rabbit.’ His voice sounds weak and unconvincing. Was it a rabbit? It didn’t look like a rabbit, but I could barely take any of it in, I was so overwhelmed by the blood and gore.

A branch snaps just then a few feet away from us, the crack of it echoing like a bullet, and we both startle, heads flying up at the sound like prey hearing a predator approaching.

‘Let’s go,’ Liam says, taking my hand, and we tear off again, running as fast as we can, darting between trees, stumbling over hidden roots and thrashing through bracken, until up ahead we see the cottage in its clearing on the edge of the loch.

The Stalker

Run rabbit, run rabbit, run, run, run.

That’s the song that played in my head as I watched her run in terror for her life. There was a thrill in her trying to escape. It excited me that she was putting up a fight; that she wasn’t making it easy. But also, if I’m honest, a part of me wanted her to escape.

That’s always been my problem. I’m a man of two halves. I am constantly torn between conflicting emotions and desires: love and hate, joy and rage, forgiveness and revenge, wanting to be saved and accepting damnation.

It’s as if the boy in me who was once eclipsed by the devil still occasionally tries to reassert himself. I start to feel remorse for the crimes I’ve committed. I want to be forgiven. But then something else happens, I’m triggered, and the devil comes roaring back out.

So I watch her run, knowing she won’t get far.

Chapter Eighteen