Page 38 of The Therapist

TWENTY-FIVE

Mike

‘What was that?’ shouts Felix, his obvious concern floating down the stairs. Felix is a light sleeper.

‘Nothing, just a neighbour,’ shouts Mike. ‘Stay in your bed, go back to sleep.’ The last thing he needs is Felix and Lila getting out of bed.

Pinpricks of panic run up and down his skin at where the scream came from, at who it could be, at what this means now.

‘That sounded like it came from your back garden, Mike,’ says Lana, and Mike watches as her hand goes back into her bag.

‘I don’t…don’t…’ stutters Mike, looking around him. He has not anticipated this.

Part of him hopes that was it, that there will be no more screaming, but even as he thinks this, he knows it won’t be the case.

‘Help, help me!’ a woman’s voice screams and then she screams again and again, repeating her entreaty.

And in a split second, everyone moves.

Mike turns, running towards the kitchen and the back of the house.

The screaming seems to be coming from outside, from the garden shed, from his garden shed where only he goes.

It’s filled with crap and spiderwebs and not somewhere that anyone but him, on a summer’s day and in need of a lawnmower, has any interest in.

He can feel Lana and Ben following him.

He opens the kitchen door that leads to the back garden, a cold spring wind hitting him in the face, and hears again, ‘Help, help me.’ He runs out into the garden, towards the shed, where the door is padlocked from the outside.

‘Help me!’ she screams again, and Mike’s whole body is suddenly covered in sweat despite the temperature. Where is she? Is it her? What the hell is going on?

He grabs the lock, struggling to open it; in his panic, he’s forgotten the combination. The scream sounded so desperate, so real.

Lana is right behind him. ‘Open it,’ she yells, ‘open it.’

Trust me , he was told on the phone, but he can’t trust any of what is happening now. Why is Sandy screaming for help? Why? Whatever game is being played has turned on him again.

‘I’m trying,’ he yells back. ‘I’m trying.’ The whole situation is completely out of control.

Her hand emerges from her bag. ‘Open it now,’ she demands and he turns to look at her. She’s holding a small handgun, something he’s never actually seen in real life.

‘Open it,’ she says again, her voice filled with menace.

This is not happening , he thinks as he fumbles with the combination lock, searching his mind for the numbers that have, for the moment, completely disappeared.