BOOK SUMMARY

Barbara’s day is Hell. One of those days
that starts badly and only gets worse. It almost seems
like the universe is out to get her.

What starts with a broken heel ends with something
much worse. And it’s all because of a chance meeting with a homeless man.

“The mind is its own place and in itself, can make a
Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.”

– John Milton

“I’ll swallow your soul! I’ll swallow your
soul! I’ll swallow your soul!”

–Henrietta, The Evil Dead 2 (1987), Renaissance
Pictures

-1-

The last
thing Barbara needed was a broken heel. She hadn’t even made it out of the
building yet.

The reception area was dark. She was
the last to leave as usual – nothing wrong with that, it was her
recruitment business after all – but it had been a shit day and she could
do without anything else going wrong. A broken heel was like God himself was
giving her the finger.

She pulled off her damaged shoe
followed by the other one and threw them both in the bin. The navy blue Jimmy Choos were the only ones that matched the dress she was
currently wearing, so that, too, was a write-off until she went shopping and
replaced the heels. Luckily she kept a pair of flats in her oversized Radley
bag and put them on now before leaving the office.

The morning had started off okay.
The car park for Barbara’s building was being repaved, which meant she and her
employees had needed to park on the other side of the canal since Monday, but
the sun had been out at 8AM so the short, brisk walk had been a lovely way to
start the day. Things had seemed bright.

It was about midday when things
had all gone to hell.

First, Barbara’s best
salesperson, Fiona, had handed in her notice, lured away by a competitor.
Nothing Barbara had said would change the girl’s mind so eventually her
frustration got the better of her and she told Fiona to leave right away and
not come back. It was petty and immature, a symptom of her temper.

Sometimes I just wish I could take a breath and think before I act.
Fiona might not have liked her new job and come back to me eventually. No hope
of that now.

So her best salesperson had
walked out the door right before lunch and then, less than an hour later, three
of the company’s top clients withdrew their business – almost a quarter
of monthly revenue gone bye-bye in the blink of an eye. It was obvious that
Fiona had taken the clients to her new firm, but how to prove it? It would only
get messy to make an issue of it and it would probably do even more damage in
the long run.

It had been the day from hell,
capped by a broken designer heel. Still, Barbara wasn’t ruined. Her successful
recruitment company was just a little less successful right now, but that could
be remedied with some hard work and perseverance. She had come from nothing and
was damned if a bitch like Fiona was going to be her downfall. If anything, it
taught a valuable lesson about Barbara needing to stay personally in touch with
her clients. It was bad business to trust her staff and she would not make that
same mistake again.

She set the alarm and stepped out
of the building, locking the door behind her. It was still light outside, but
only for about another hour. The sun had taken on the dark-orange of early
evening and the busy town had gone eerily still. The offices and shops were
closed, but in another hour or so the pubs and bars would open for the evening
trade. It was the transition between night and day. Work and play.

She needed some cigarettes before
heading to her car, so instead of taking the stone steps down to the canal,
Barbara turned the other way and headed into town. There was a small newsagent
on the high street.

“Hey, lady, can you spare some
change?”

Barbara glanced to her left to
see a scruffy gentleman sitting in the doorway of the accountant’s office she
was passing. The man had a dirty red beard and overly large teeth. She could
smell his odour from six feet away,

“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m
not carrying any money.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I said I can’t help you.”

“God bless you anyway.”

Barbara rolled her eyes. “Yeah,
whatever.”

She picked up her pace to move
away from the unwashed man, who thankfully remained seated. It wasn’t like she
worked in the inner cities of Liverpool. This was a small town in Bedfordshire.

Goddamn homeless pests.

No one in the United Kingdom was
homeless unless they chose to be. With all the handouts
the government gave, it was a deliberate decision if a person hung around the
streets and begged. Anything to avoid an honest day’s work.
Deadbeats and
layabouts, the lot of them.

Barbara headed into the
newsagents and got her cigarettes – 6 pence more than the last time she’d
come in. She thought again about the homeless man and about how the tax kept
going up on her cigarettes because of lazy benefit seekers like him. Why were
hardworking people like her always the ones to suffer?

Her father had always blamed
things on the foreigners, right up until a heart attack took him at 59. Her
mother was certain that it had been stress that killed him, stress of having no
money and no chance of retirement, getting poorer by the year.

Barbara’s father had been a
production line worker at MG Rover’s Longbridge plant
most of his life, until the company went bust in the early 2000s. Thirty years
of job loyalty down the pan in an instant. What followed was a string of low
paid, dead end jobs leading up to his sudden death in the summer of 2009. By
then, her father had been only a shadow of the loving, happy man who’d raised
her. It was almost a kindness that he went so young, so quickly. Barbara had
promised herself the day he died that she would never work for anybody but
herself. Never would she devote herself to a company like her father had, only
to be tossed aside without the slightest regard.

So she had started up a
recruitment business and devoted ten years of her life to securing her future.
She owned a home twice as big as the one she grew up in and drove a BMW that
her father would have loved. It was her father’s memory that drove her –
not the man’s successes, but his failures.

On her way towards the steps that
led down to the canal, Barbara’s phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag and
glanced at the screen. Smiled a great big smile when she saw that it was Tom
calling her.

“Hi, sexy,” she purred.

“Hey, dirty girl. How was your
day?”

“Not as good as my night is going
to be. You still on for later?”

“Yep. I’ll be at yours in an
hour. I’ll pick up pizza and wine on the way.”

“Can you get Chinese instead?”

“What? The Chinese is three miles
out of… yeah, sure, whatever you want, honey. The usual?”

“You’re a darling. Yeah, the usual. I’ll make it worth your while later.”

“You’d better, dirty girl. I’ll
see you at seven.”

“Can’t wait. Bye.”

Barbara slipped the phone back in
her handbag. She was about to cross the road and head back towards her office
and the canal, when a familiar voice called out to her.

“Hey, lady, you said you had no
money.”

Barbara turned around to see the
homeless man again and groaned. “I don’t
have any money.”

“Then how you get those cigs?”

“I used my ca– Hey, wait
just one minute, I don’t have to explain myself to the likes of you.”

The man took several steps
towards her. His wild red eyebrows slanted into a scowl. “The likes of me? The
hell is that supposed to mean?”

Barbara stopped walking and faced
the scruffy man head on. “You know exactly what it means. Why don’t you get a
job instead of begging people in the street? I’ve had a bad day and I don’t need
this.”

The homeless man laughed nastily.
“You’ve had a bad day? Ha! Why don’t you try having an illness where you forget
what planet you’re on one day and are completely lucid the next. You think you
got it bad, lady? My only options are to sit around a loony bin where people
treat me like dirt, or hang around the street where people treat me like dirt.
If I could get a job I would, but people don’t hire loonies.”

Barbara snorted. “What a load of
nonsense. You seem perfectly fine to me.”

“Today I am, but who knows about
tomorrow. You run that recruitment agency next to the canal, don’t you?”

“I own it.”

“Wow, how nice for you. I’ve been
to your place; explained my situation. Your girl, Fiona, pretty much shooed me
out the building.”

Barbara sighed and actually felt
briefly sorry for the man. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that Fiona no
longer works for me. She was a bitch.”

“Takes one to know one, lady.”

Barbara stomped her foot. “How
dare you! You expect me to help you now?”

The man shrugged at her. “You
wouldn’t help me before.”

“Well, you can forget it now.”

The man looked regretful. He
reached out a hand to her imploringly. “Look, I apologise, lady. If you could
give me enough change for a sausage roll, I would really appreciate it. I’m
sorry I lost my temper. Life is just tough, you know? Please, I really need to
eat tonight.”

Barbara grunted, then relented
and sighed. “Fine, why not? People have been taking me for a mug all day so why
stop now? Why not take my keys and sell my car for parts? Let me clear out my
savings for you.” She opened up her bag and began rooting around for her purse.
As she did so, the homeless man came closer.

“My name is Jim, by the way.”

“I don’t care,” said Barbara.

He came closer still. “Sorry you
had a bad day.”

Barbara lifted her purse out of
her bag and the homeless man, Jim, continued moving towards her.

“Don’t mention it. Not your fault
– hey! Get back!”

“What’s wrong?”

Barbara stepped away from the
man, snarling and pointing her finger. “You were going to try to snatch my
purse, weren’t you?”

“What? No, I just wanted some
change. I was just trying to talk to you.”

He took another step towards her,
making her take another step back.

“You lowlife,” she shouted. “Just
get the hell away from me. Get aw-”

Her foot went over the curb. Her
arms went up in the air and her ankle twisted. She was falling.

Jim leapt forward and grabbed
her. His hand went around her wrist, pulling her away from the curb and towards
him, into his arms. The smell was revolting.

“You okay?” he asked her.

She shoved him as hard as she
could, trying not to gag on his stench. “Get the fuck away from me, you
disgusting freak.”

This time it was Jim’s foot that
went over the curb, but with no one to grab him, as he had her, his leg twisted
and he stumbled backwards into the road. His eyes went wide with surprise.

Barbara saw what was about to
happen but was powerless to stop it, powerless to do anything than play the
part of horrified spectator.

Speeding down the road was a
large white van.

It hit Jim with a sickening thud,
hammering him to the ground and feeding him to the crushing wheels. His body
disappeared as the tyres rolled over him.

The sound of bones cracking made
Barbara cover her ears. The tyres screeched terribly.

A smear of
blood on the tarmac.

The van turned sideways and slid
to a stop, its front tyres hitting the curb and raising it up slightly. The
driver blared the horn, but it could only have been from shock because it was
far too late to warn anybody.

Barbara stood
there, eyes open wide and
staring.

Jim’s arms and legs all pointed
in the wrong directions. His skull was caved in, making his face look like a
Halloween mask. One of his eyes hung down his cheek.

Barbara tried not to vomit.

Behind the steering wheel, the
van driver stared into space, his hands visibly shaking on the wheel.

Moments passed, seeming to
stretch on forever.

Then Barbara ran.

***

She
clutched her Radley bag against her chest and ran faster than she knew she
could. What had just happened? One minute she was buying cigarettes, the next…

The next, she had thrown a man
into an incoming van. Jim, his name was
Jim.

She glanced behind her, checking
to see if she was being followed. She wasn’t. A hundred metres back, she saw
the traumatised van driver hopping out of his vehicle and stumbling like a
zombie towards the bloody mess behind his rear tyres. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed her running away, which was good. The driver
was in so much shock he wouldn’t be able to remember Barbara’s face – or,
hopefully, even remember that she was there.

Had he seen her push Jim into the
road?

Barbara hadn’t meant to hurt the
homeless man, only to get him away from her. He might not have been going for
her purse, she would never know that for sure, but he had no right touching
her, grabbing her.

He was just trying to keep me from falling.

Barbara shook her head and
concentrated on getting out of there. What great loss was it that a homeless
man was dead? Who would miss him? What use had he been to anyone? And that pack
of lies he had tried to palm off as an excuse…. Mental illness. Pathetic!

She looked back one more time and
was perturbed to find the van driver staring in her direction and waving a
hand. He could have just been trying to summon help, but there was also the chance
he knew she was fleeing the scene of an accident and trying to call her back.

She kept on running.

No way was she going back to that
mess. She had pushed Jim into the road and the police would do their best to
put it all on her. She wasn’t going to have her life turned upside down because
of some stinking homeless man.

She made it back to her office
building and thought about going inside, hiding out for a while, but it would
do no good. The police would be everywhere soon and she needed to get home. Tom
would be waiting for her with the Chinese food. She wondered how she was ever
going to eat anything with her stomach feeling the way it did. She could throw
up at any moment.

All that blood.

She turned away from her darkly
lit office and headed towards the stone steps leading down to the canal. A
short run and she would be across the bridge and at the car park. She would be
home within the hour.

The steps were right up ahead. As
soon as she made it down them she would be out of sight, the town above and
behind her. The car park would be empty by now and all she had to do was walk
casually to her car and drive home. Thomas would be her alibi for the evening.

What am I doing? This is insane. I need to go back. If the police
find me I will be in even worse trouble.

But it was too late now. She knew
that by running she had made herself look guilty. The only way was forward. She
had to get out of there and deny all knowledge.

Her mind made up, she hurried towards
the steps. She went down them in a sprint, more eager than ever to be at home
with Tom. She took the old stone steps two at a time, ignoring the painful
shocks running through her heels. As she did so, she fumbled inside her
handbag, looking for the cigarettes that she had needed to buy.

If only she had gone straight to
her car instead.

As she neared the bottom of the
steps she began to smile with maddening relief. She was free, the whole
devastating incident almost behind her. She was-

The bottom of her right flat
suddenly slid on some loose gravel. Her leg bent sideways and her knee
wrenched, making her cry out. She tried to grab out for support, but there was
no railing – only a flat brick wall.

Her feet found nothing but air.

She fell.

Hit the steps hard.

Knees, elbows, and head crashed
against stone. She tried to shield herself but only increased the momentum of
her tumble.

The sky appeared above her for a
second.

Then disappeared.

Every second was agony as she
slid and tumbled, crashing against each unyielding step.

Then the pain stopped.

Barbara tumbled off the last step
and rolled across the pavement. Towards the canal and down
the bank.

She cried out weakly as the floor
disappeared from beneath her and water took its place.

The canal took her.

Cold water encased Barbara and
made her gasp. Her open mouth filled with dirty water. She panicked. Every part
of her ached and she was sinking. Too weak to swim.

Sinking.

***

Barbara
found a spark inside herself and managed to shake off
the numbness in her limbs. She kicked her legs, clawed with her arms.

She began to rise.

To climb
towards the dull light above her.

Her lungs burned.

Eyes bulged.

Her heart felt like it was going
to burst.

But she kicked with all she had,
desperate for the air so close above her.

Her vision grew dark.

When Barbara broke the surface of
the water she gasped in so much air that it caused her pain in the centre of
her chest, but she kept on going, sucking in everything she could get.

She dragged herself to the edge
of the canal and hung onto the bank.

A mixture of air and water
escaped her mouth in a gigantic burp.

Not knowing if she was in tears or
not, for she was drenched with canal water, Barbara slowly dragged herself out of
the water. She took a few more deep breaths, making sure that she was okay,
before flopping onto her back and moaning in agony as her bruised elbows and
knees capitulated to the extra pressure of being out of the water. She lay
there for a while and sobbed. The day from Hell.

-2-

The drive
home was painful. Her left knee was swollen and hurt each time she was forced
to step on the clutch. Every time she checked her rear view mirror she was sure
she would see the flashing lights of a police car, but she saw nothing.

She needed to call Tom, tell him
she was going to be late, but her phone had been in her bag, and her bag had
gone into the canal with her. It had remained around her shoulder the entire
time, but the contents were waterlogged. Her phone was destroyed.

When she finally pulled into her
road, she was more than an hour late, but just in time to catch Tom walking out
of her house and towards his car. She quickly pulled up to the curb and limped
towards him.

He was pissed off.

Looking in her direction, Tom
shook his head with a disgusted look on his face. “Couldn’t even call me,” he
muttered, then unlocked his car and slid behind the wheel.

“Hey,” Barbara called out to him.
“Tom, I’m sorry. I had an accident. I fell down the-”

The sound of the engine cut her
off. Before she could make it to the driver’s side window, Tom took off at
speed, screeching down the road and disappearing around the corner.

“You asshole!” Barbara couldn’t
believe it. Tom had not taken a good enough look at her to see that she was
banged up, so she could forgive him for that, but how petulant to not even
speak to her about what had happened. She had an explanation. He had only
needed to give her a chance.

An explanation? Yeah, sure. I fell down the
steps after fleeing a crime scene.

A murder.

Barbara shook her head. She had
not murdered anybody. It had all been an accident. If anything, she was the
victim. That stinking wretch, Jim, had foisted himself upon her and caused
everything that had happened.

If only she’d been able to call
Tom and let him know what had happened. The sooner she went to bed and put an
end to this day, the better.

She headed into her house, annoyed that Tom had not locked her front door on his
way out, and then went directly into the kitchen. She poured herself the
biggest glass of wine and took it into the lounge. By the time she sat down and
switched on the television, she had already drained half of it.

Jim’s face appeared in front of
her and made her spit a mouthful of wine back into her glass.

What the hell?

It was the news.

“A homeless man was mown down
today in traffic after seemingly being pushed by a woman. The driver involved
in the accident was deeply in shock when the police arrived on the scene and
was unable to describe the woman in detail. Police are appealing for witnesses.

The victim, James Jones, was a
suffering schizophrenic who had fallen on hard times. His mother identified his
body early this evening and expressed deep remorse after having not seen her
son for several years, after his illness forced him to leave his job as a
primary school teacher.

Barbara checked her watch. It was
five-past-ten. Jesus, I left work three
hours ago. Where did all the time go?

Jim’s face disappeared from the
television screen and the news went on with the next story, as if his death was
already forgotten.

If only.

The police were looking for a
woman.

No details, though. The van
driver had not been able to describe her.

What should she do?

She decided to go to bed.

***

She had fallen
asleep with ease yet woke in agony. Her knee was even more swollen now and the
back of her head was badly bruised. It felt like she was recovering from a
killer workout and a massive hangover at the same time.

Her first thought was to stay in
bed and not go to work, but she quickly dispelled that notion. Missing work was
something she never did and would only raise suspicions. If the police started
asking around, she would rather be there to give them answers herself, rather
than have her staff answering on her behalf. Not to mention that she could ill
afford allowing her business to suffer more after the Fiona fiasco.
Nope, she was going into work as normal. Had to act naturally.

She went into the bathroom and
did her best to sort herself out. She had massive bags under her eyes, but
fortunately all of her wounds could be hidden beneath clothing. To facilitate
that, she wore a grey trouser suit and thick black heels instead of the
stilettos and designer dresses she usually wore this time of year. Hopefully it
wasn’t enough of an anomaly for anybody to take notice.

She still couldn’t stomach any
food, so she forwent breakfast and just made herself a coffee. She drank it
down as quickly as she could and then hopped in her car and got going.

Driving was still painful, even
more so as she obeyed the speed limit obsessively and took just shy of forty
minutes to arrive back at the car park beside the canal. It was still early, so
only a few cars currently sat on the tarmac, but one or two belonged to her staff.
Margaret, her receptionist had arrived before her.

Barbara immediately felt guilty
when she stepped out of her car and remembered fleeing the night before. It was
like returning to the scene of the crime.

“Excuse me, lady? Could you spare
some change?”

Barbara froze. The car park was
deserted, but the voice had come from right behind her.

“Lady?”

She spun around to see a man
emerging from the hedge. He had messy hair, full of twigs, and a beard that
looked like it could nest birds. For a split second she thought it was Jim.

“I…I, no, sorry, I don’t have any
cash on me.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “I’m sure.
What is with you people?”

The man tilted his head and
frowned at her. “You people?”

Barbara swallowed. What was she
getting herself into? “Sorry,” she said. “That was rude. Look, if I had any
change I would give it to you. Perhaps later.”

The man smiled. “Thank you. Have
a good day now.”

“You too.”

She hurried across the car park,
limping on her bad knee, towards the canal, eager to get away from the homeless
man. What were the odds? Another man begging her for change? Where were they
all coming from? Until yesterday she hadn’t seen a homeless person in town for
as long as she could remember.

She shivered when she reached the
canal, a light breeze coming off the surface of the water. This morning was not
as bright as yesterday, which was good. It would make her trouser suit less
conspicuous. She would have to do her best to hide her limp once inside the
office, though. People would ask questions.

Barbara crossed the bridge to the
other side and made her way to the stone steps that had hurt her so badly. She
gritted her teeth when she started up them, the pain in her left knee exploding
like a white-hot firework.

By the time she eventually
reached the top, her teeth ached and her forehead was soaked with sweat.

She stood still for a moment and
looked around. It was still early, the town not yet fully awake. It gave her
time to take a few breaths and collect herself without anybody noticing.

She eventually continued towards
her office, and as she prepared to go inside, she glanced down the road towards
town. There she saw the police cordon, the bright yellow tape forming a square
over the road where Jim had been hit. It was too far away to see the blood on
the tarmac, but Barbara was able to spot the wreath of flowers that now lay
there.

Had Jim’s mother put them there,
she asked herself, feeling a twinge of guilt in her stomach.

She took her eyes away from the
crime scene and hurried into her office. The front doors were already unlocked
and Margaret, her receptionist, was already there, sipping a cup of tea and
reading the paper at her desk.

Barbara knew she must look a
state, so she didn’t hang around to chat. She hurried past, without making eye-contact. “Morning, Barbara. I need to make a phone call
so I’ll catch up with you in a little while. If anybody calls, please take a
message.”

She hurried into her office and
threw herself down in her seat. She noticed the light was blinking on her
answer machine so she pressed the PLAY button.

“Hey, Barbara, it’s me, Tom. I’ve
tried your mobile a few times but it’s going straight to voicemail. Are you
still in the office? If you are then pick up. I’m at your place and the food is
getting cold.” There was a pause, a sigh, then, “For God’s sake. Just call me or something, okay? I’m worried.”

Barbara moaned. If only she had
been able to speak to Tom last night. She needed him so badly after what had
happened. He was an asshole for the way he acted last night, but all it really
boiled down to was a misunderstanding.

She picked up the phone and
selected Tom’s number from the address list. She waited while it rang, thinking
about what she was going to say to him. That she loved him and that she was
sorry. That something terrible had happened last night and she needed to talk
about it. That she needed him to come and hold her right now.

“Hi, this is Tom. Leave a
message.”

Barbara sighed. “Hi, it’s Babs.
I’m sorry about last night. I can explain, so, just… call me, okay? Please.”

She replaced the receiver and
leaned back in her chair. “Shit,” she said out loud. “What the hell is
happening to my life?”

She pressed the intercom for
reception. “Margaret, I won’t be taking any calls today. I have a lot of
paperwork to do. Tell Mike he’s in charge.”

There was no way she could face
anybody today. She had hoped she would be able to, but one moment alone with
anybody would make it obvious that she was frazzled. She just prayed to God
that the police didn’t come to speak with her. If they did, she was screwed.

-3-

Thankfully,
nobody bothered Barbara all day. No calls, no appointments, and most
importantly, no police.

She waited in her office until
every last member of staff had left. Even now, she couldn’t stomach the thought
of small talk. Except with Tom.

She had called Tom a dozen times
throughout the day but he had not answered. Nor had he called back. She was now
in a full-blown panic as to the state of their relationship and as soon as she
got back in her car she was going straight to his place to sort things out.
They had not told each other they loved each other yet, but after what had
happened, Barbara realised that was how she felt. She needed to tell Tom that
she loved him and that she needed his support right now.

She switched off her computer and
got up from her chair. Walking over to her office door she peered out of the
window, double-checking that the coast was clear. It was. Margaret had closed
down the reception area and had just headed out.

It was time to get out of there.

The front doors were locked so
she had to grab her keys from her trouser pocket and let herself out. She
flinched when the alarm bleeped.

Stupid Margaret. Why had she set
the alarm when she knew Barbara hadn’t left yet?

She leapt back inside and
disarmed the alarm, before rearming it again and locking back up. When she
turned around to head home, there was a man standing behind her.

“Hey, lady,” he said. “You said
to try you later.”

It was the homeless man she had
met in the car park. The one with the birds nest beard

Barbara recoiled back towards the
door. “What?”

“When I asked you for some
change, you said ‘maybe later’.”

Barbara just wanted the man to go
away so she nodded. “Okay, let me take a look.” She pulled her purse from her
pocket and searched inside. There were only a bunch of coppers and some notes,
not enough change to buy a packet of crisps.

The homeless man looked at her
pleadingly.

Barbara sighed and tugged a fiver
free and shoved it at him. Despite her obvious disgust, he thanked her
profusely.

“Thank you, lady. My name is Jim
by the way.”

Barbara felt her lips part and
air rush in. “What did you just say?”

“I said thank you.”

“No, your name.”

“Oh, it’s Jim. Pleased to meet
you.”

Barbara took a step towards the
man, tolerating his stench as she moved right up close to him. “Is this some
kind of sick joke? Who are you?”

“I’m Jim.”

“Where are you people
all coming from?”

“You people?”

“Yes! You
fucking people. You stinking, begging layabouts?
Where are you all coming from? Why are you here?”

Jim grinned at her in a way she
didn’t like at all. “I’m just here for your change, lady. You have a good
night.”

Jim turned and walked down the
road, towards the spot where the other ‘Jim’ had been mown down by a van less
than twenty-four hours before.

After Barbara had pushed him.

She shuddered, her throat
thickening as the taste of dread filled her mouth, then hurried towards the
stone steps down to the canal. When she reached them she was careful, a
flashback of her terrible fall coming back to her. Her knee hurt less now but
had become stiff. It led to her taking the steps downwards in an awkward,
sideways hop.

Her foot slipped.

She wobbled and caught her
balance.

Her heart was battering her ribcage
but she let out a relieved sigh. No way was she falling down these goddamn
steps again.

She took the rest of them at a
snail’s pace.

Why had she let herself become so
rattled? Disgusting homeless men making her feel afraid. Ridiculous. She would
make a complaint to the Mayor. The town council had a duty to keep its streets
clear of vagrants.

“Hey, lady?”

Barbara hopped off the bottom
step onto the path beside the canal. When she saw the homeless man she could
hardly believe it. She didn’t wait to be accosted for her change.

“Leave me alone,” she bellowed.
“What do people want from me?”

“We just want your change, lady.”

The comment did not pass Barbara
by. She seized on it immediately. “You said we,
so you admit that you’re all working together? Why are you targeting me?”

The man looked confused. “You
have a good night, lady. Sorry for bothering you.”

“No, you stay right there. I want
answers. I suppose your name is Jim as well, huh?”

The homeless man shook his head
sadly. “Jim’s dead. Some lady threw him under a van.”

The anger drained out of Barbara
in an instant and uncertainty took its place. Did this man know she had pushed
Jim? Was he Jim’s friend?

Suddenly she became very aware of
how alone she was beside the canal. Everyone had left work and gone home. It
was just her and this homeless man. The third homeless man she had encountered
since leaving work last night.

“I-I need
to get home. Excuse me,” she said, irritated by how meek and afraid she
sounded.

The homeless man chuckled. “You are home, lady.”

He tried to stand in her way.

“Move!” She shoved the homeless
man out of her way and hurried for the bridge.

But there was no bridge.

Ahead of her was only the pathway
and canal; both seeming to stretch on for eternity. The
bridge should have been right up ahead, the car park on the other side.

But there was nothing.

“We wanted your change, lady. Now
nothing is ever gonna change for you.”

Barbara spun around to face the
homeless man.

But he was gone.

Someone more familiar now stood
in his place.

It was Jim. The
original Jim. The one who she had pushed in front of a
van. His face was sunken and disfigured, like a deflated football. The
fingers on his right hand were all snapped and pointing at odd angles. His left
foot was backwards.

“I wanted you to help me,” he
croaked at her, “but you killed me.”

Barbara tried to swallow, but
there was lump in her throat. She tasted the dirty water of the canal. “I’m
sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. Please…”

“Please what? You want me to help
you, lady?”

“I just want to go home.”

“You are home.”

The voice was not Jim’s but
somebody else’s. Barbara spun around to face them.

The path beside the canal was
lined with homeless people, an entire legion of them. They looked at her
pleadingly, some reaching out their hands. “We just want your change,” they all
moaned in chorus.

Barbara felt her bladder loosen,
a warmth spreading down her leg. Her mouth opened and closed, opened and
closed.

“How is this happening?” she
eventually asked.

“They say charity is good for the
soul,” Jim replied, making her turn back around to face him.

“I’m sorry,” she said, tears
running down her cheeks. “Just let me make it right. I’d had a bad day. It was
an accident.”

“You ran.”

“Yes, I was scared.”

“Selfish.”

Barbara whimpered. “Yes, selfish.
But scared too. I ended up falling down the steps. I almost died, I hit my head
so hard.”

Jim tilted his head. “Almost?”

Barbara frowned at first, but
then her entire body shivered. She felt a sudden throbbing in her head and
lifted her fingertips to the back of her skull.

It was missing.

Where the firmness of bone should
have been was only soft, wet tissue. Her brain seemed to pulse and vibrate
beneath her probing touch.

Barbara’s eyes filled with tears.
She looked at the broken, bleeding homeless man in front of her and begged.
“Help me, please.”

“I can’t help you,” he said. “I’m
dead. And so are you.” He pointed towards the canal.

Barbara turned her head slowly towards
the water. There was something floating amongst the slime and leaves.

She moved to the edge of the
canal and stared down at her own face. Pale and lifeless
– dead. Her body floated beneath the surface of the water, gazing
at the sky. She had not survived that fall. Had slipped into the canal,
unconscious, and drowned.

Barbara recoiled.

Hands grabbed her.

“Get off me!”

Dirty nails scratched at her and
grubby palms snatched at her. She gagged at their stench and kicked out at
them, but there were too many. A whole army enveloping her.

“Now you’re one of us,” Jim said.
“Just a lost soul without a home.”

“No,” Barbara screamed as Jim
pulled her in for a hug. Squeezing her tightly against his festering stink. He
smelt of death.

Then he shoved her.

Barbara lost her footing and
tumbled down the bank, plummeting into the canal and colliding with her own
dead body.

She coughed, spluttered, clawed
at the edge of the canal.

Fought to stay afloat.

But something was pulling her
down.

Hands all over her body, pulling
at her clothes. They pulled her down, an inescapable weight.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Barbara sank beneath the water. The last oxygen escaping her panicked lungs.

But she did not black out.

She was completely lucid as the
devils in the water held her, dragging her down to the dirty bottom of the
canal where she would remain forever.

END.

About The Author

Iain Rob Wright is one of
the UK's most successful horror and suspense writers, with novels including the
critically acclaimed, THE FINAL WINTER; the disturbing bestseller, ASBO; and
the wicked screamfest, THE HOUSEMATES.

His work
is currently being adapted for graphic novels, audio books, and foreign
audiences. He is an active member of the Horror Writer Association and a massive
animal lover.

Check out
Iain's official website or add him on Facebook where he would love to meet you.

www.iainrobwright.com

FEAR ON EVERY PAGE

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Part of
the SALGAD PUBLISHING GROUP

Redditch

UK,
Worcestershire

www.SALGADPUBLISHING.com

H is for Hell
copyright 2015 by Iain Rob Wright

www.IAINROBWRIGHT.com

Cover Art
Copyright 2015 Iain Rob Wright

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rights reserved.  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in
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