Chapter 392

• I slowly pick up the glass knife and wrap my hand around the base and I swing it through the air as I practise. No, it needs to be harder. Shit. I bring it up over my head and with all my strength I stab it down through the air. Fuck, this is a nightmare. With my heart beating hard in my chest I open the bathroom door with the knife in my hand and I wait.
• On cue the bedroom door opens and Carl walks in carrying the tray of food and I screw up my face in tears and run at him with my hand over my head. I bring the knife down hard into his neck and he screams in pain. Oh my god, I scream as blood starts to spurt from his wound and I put my hand over my mouth. He staggers back and falls and his head hits the bedpost and he is knocked unconscious. I put my hands over my mouth in shock. He lies still and silent with blood coming from the wound. I need to tie him up. I run back to the wardrobe and grab the belt from one of the cardigans and pull his hands behind his back and tie them together. Is he dead? I screw up my face as nervous energy runs through me. Run. Run. Run. With my heart racing I jump over his slumped body, out the door and lock it behind me. I race down the stairs two at a time to the front door and I grab the handle and frantically rattle it. Fuck, it’s locked. My eyes dart around and I run to the back door, which thankfully is open. I run out onto the deck and into the sunshine.
• My eyes fly around my surroundings. Forest on one side and paddocks on the other. Which way, which way? The forest. I sprint as fast as I can towards the forest. Oh my god, I killed him, he’s dying. He is dying. My mind flicks to Joshua and the fact that it’s going to be him dying or Carl and I screw up my face and run faster. I need to get out of here. I get to a barbed wire fence and bend to get through it and keep running towards the trees. I am desperately out of breath. Keep going I chastise myself, keep going. The landscape is rugged and I am treading on rocks and my feet are hurting but I keep pushing. Get to the trees, get to the trees. I cry to myself as I run and finally, after what seems forever, I make it. I run into the shrubbery and under the veil of protection and I fall to the ground in exhaustion as I gasp for air. Which way? My eyes search my surroundings. On one side of me a hill inclines up and it seems to be bushland and the other way goes down a hill but seems much more rugged terrain. Up, I will go up the hill. I look down at my feet. Fuck, I wish I had some shoes. On getting my breath back I stand and start to run and the sticks break under my feet. Oww, my feet. Shit, I’m an idiot. I should have grabbed Carl’s shoes. Who am I kidding? I wouldn’t steal a person’s shoes that I had just stabbed. I put my hands on my head in disbelief. I just stabbed someone in the neck. What the fucking hell has my life turned into? If Carl hasn’t died he is either ringing for backup right now or bleeding to death but if he has died it’s going to be eleven and a half hours until the boy gets back. I need to get the hell out of here and with renewed purpose I pick up the pace. I keep running through the bush as I try to negotiate the terrain with my feet looking for the best places to stand. Why didn’t I run on that damn treadmill? I should be fit but no I have the aerobic fitness level of a ninety-year-old. This gasping for breath is not helping my escape at all.