BooksBarbecue
Back What I Did Save as PDF
Chapters (87)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-One
  25. Twenty-Two
  26. Twenty-Three
  27. Twenty-Four
  28. Twenty-Five
  29. Twenty-Six
  30. Twenty-Seven
  31. Twenty-Eight
  32. Twenty-Nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-One
  35. Thirty-Two
  36. Thirty-Three
  37. Thirty-Four
  38. Thirty-Five
  39. Thirty-Six
  40. Thirty-Seven
  41. Thirty-Eight
  42. Thirty-Nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty-One
  45. Forty-Two
  46. Forty-Three
  47. Forty-Four
  48. Forty-Five
  49. Forty-Six
  50. Forty-Seven
  51. Forty-Eight
  52. Forty-Nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty-One
  55. Fifty-Two
  56. Fifty-Three
  57. Fifty-Four
  58. Fifty-Five
  59. Fifty-Six
  60. Fifty-Seven
  61. Fifty-Eight
  62. Fifty-Nine
  63. Sixty
  64. Sixty-One
  65. Sixty-Two
  66. Sixty-Three
  67. Sixty-Four
  68. Sixty-Five
  69. Sixty-Six
  70. Sixty-Seven
  71. Sixty-Eight
  72. Sixty-Nine
  73. Seventy
  74. Seventy-One
  75. Seventy-Two
  76. Seventy-Three
  77. Seventy-Four
  78. Seventy-Five
  79. Seventy-Six
  80. Seventy-Seven
  81. Seventy-Eight
  82. Seventy-Nine
  83. Eighty
  84. Epilogue
  85. Acknowledgements
  86. Extract from To Keep You Safe
  87. About the Author

I’m up and I’m running and I plunge into yet another bloody hedge and the electricity bolts through me again as I reach the other side but this time it doesn’t hurt too much and something jabs my cheek but I wrench my face away and I’m under one of the wires and climbing over the other. I understand two things: one, that the thought of the electric fence was worse than the reality, and two, I am more afraid of standing in the dark with an unknown presence than running in the night.

And so it is that I find myself running forward again, scratched, poked and hurting afresh, but moving closer to the farmhouse – relief layered upon relief – and it has its lights on.

I have finally found help.

Thirty

thirty:

– now –

I struggle across the last field, but hope has helped strengthen me and I can move faster. Something flying hits me in the face – a moth perhaps, its dusty wing touching the corner of my open mouth, but it doesn’t slow me.

The house lights puncture the night. As I get closer, I feel a burst of extra power. Perhaps he’ll have a Land Rover and he’ll drive me back as we both hatch a plan. He’ll have dogs too – perhaps the best thing.

I pant and stumble in the dark, but the house looms bigger and bigger. I have nearly made it. I didn’t think I could, but I have. There’s one final hedge. When I reach it, I realise that the farmhouse garden is just behind it.

I tuck my burnt wrists back under my fleece, but now they bother me less than my feet. Now my feet are crying; tomorrow they will be screaming.

And then I think: I might not be alive tomorrow to hear them. I actually start a little in the dark as if the thought surprises me. It shouldn’t, because it’s always been there – a low thrum of concern, a low beat very, very nearly undetectable when there’s the cacophony of all my other challenges. But here it is. I pause, almost amused. Is this the right response to the thought that I might die tonight?

Yes, the drugs help – a lot – but I’ve been here before. How many times have I thought I might die?

If I do, I just hope that Jack lives. With that, I push through the hedge, now not even caring if it gives me a jolt.

It scratches me. My feet kick through where the hedge is denser. My right foot stubs against a thick stem. But I keep going.

And I emerge on the other side.