Silent - Part 11: The House

Gavin, Saturday Afternoon , May 2019
 
I take a different route to Lyme House. Across the main coastal road and down a tree-lined lane with a spring breeze and the smell of sun.  Another crossing. Past an arty bookstore and a café-restaurant with umbrella-type covering. Bungalows and cottages and a village-like church with a water well. Broken twigs and pebbles and stones. Fields going further inland.  This part of the town isn't bad at all, if you can forget the rest of the area.  
 
Clearer air, although I can't stop shaking. I keep looking over my shoulder in case Jace's mate Steve is following. He ought to be locked up.  Jace once told me that Steve always gets them into trouble. For instance, Steve passes some random bloke and bumps into them, then claims the bloke bumped into him on purpose. Or he'll see this girl he fancies on a dance floor and start trouble with the boyfriend. When I was last here, he snatched my phone and turned nasty when I asked for it back.  
 
Fields. Getting closer.  I reach the private driveway leading down to Lyme House. It's a five or ten minute walk with tall hedges and trees on both sides. Stillness, the type you get in ancient woods. Trees everywhere. The scent of bark and acorns.  The temperature dips.  I can no longer see the sun.  The long driveway shows no sign of ending.  Finally, I come to the car park.  
 
Lyme House, an empty graveyard.  
 
I approach the old House.  
 
You can still see the damage. Before, a muddy brown building stood here, rectangular, two storeys high. The House lies in ruins now, sealed off by wiring and metal railings. The landscaped gardens have gone, replaced by weeds and wild grass and a discarded tyre, along with a burnt-out engine by one of the water fountains.  
 
Lucy's former home.  
 
I continue.  
 
Stop when I hear a branch snap.  
 
'Jace?'
 
A flicker of movement in the driveway.
 
Something like a dustbin overturning.  
      
A thud.  
      
A set of hands gripping me around the waist.
 
A knee lodges in my back, forcing my body into an awkward position.  I can't see the person.  
 
Now the person's bringing me down, and I'm falling.  
 
Falling and falling and falling backwards, all in quick motion.
 
The ground, but I don't feel any pain.  
 
Not until the person kicks me in the kidneys, and I roar in agony.  
 
'I warned you, didnt I?'  The Angel of Mercy whispers in my ears.  
 
I brace myself for another kick in the kidneys, but he places a cloth over my face.  
 
And then, the smell from the cloth.  
 
No way. Get if off my face, you nutter.  
 
Sweet chemical smell, though unpleasant.  
 
Worse than a kick in the kidneys.  
 
Coughing. Lungs on fire. Feels like Im puking up flames. Literally  
 
I black out.    
 
***
LUCY, Saturday May, 2019
 
I've got to get out of here.
 
Silence.  And shapes in the darkness.  Shadows that creep closer and closer and closer through deep fog and smoke, sneering and hissing at her.  
 
I won't die, she tells herself. Someone will rescue me.    
 
Ash, her ex. Gavin.
Gavin.  Ashleigh.   Or Maxine, her best friend.
 
She tries to picture them, but can't. The two become muddled, like they did a couple of years ago when she first met Gavin.  Gavin, with the thick raven hair and chunky shoulders. Easy-going, but moody with eyes to match.  He was gorgeous, though not like Ash.    
 
By now, Gavin will have guessed that somethings happened.  He will have got in touch with Maxine and contacted the police. They will be out looking for her now.  It will all be okay.
 
How long have I been here?  Why haven't Maxine or Gavin raised the alarm yet?
 
Gavin! she thinks forcibly, hoping the strength of her plea will attract his attention.  Call the police.  Please.