Page 18 of Taunting Tarran
‘Holy mother of God.’
‘Ms Pinegrove?’ one of the children calls out.
As the envelope trembles in my hands, a cold, icy dread coils around my chest. My heart palpitates, pounding louder with each beat. I feel the blood drain from my face as my eyes lift to the child calling my name. The normal buzz of activity seeming distant and muffled, as if I were sinking further underwater. I want to scream, drop the envelope and run, but my body betrays me. Instead, my eyes drop to its contents once again.
Teeth.
And a letter.
Shit.
I take a deep breath and answer the child. ‘Nothing, darling,’ then slowly pull out the letter avoiding any contact with the teeth that I can tell have been freshly extracted. Then, as I open it, I know at once who had sent it.
I’m not one to make idle threats. Let’s hope next time I won’t need to punish anyone else.
As I read, the words echo in that same voice, mocking, probing into my life. More words to haunt my dreams, a spectral presence lingering in the recesses of my mind.
‘I’ll be right back,’ I tell the children as I stand, clasping the envelope tightly in the palm of my hand.
Next time? So this fucker will be back!
Do I ring the police?
And say what? That would only air my dirty laundry about the club, why I go there. No one would understand.
I rake my bottom lip between my teeth, while looking at myself in the bathroom mirror before opening the envelope again. I pull back my top looking at the bite mark, the teeth, the bite mark, and the teeth again. I find myself plucking a tooth out, twirling it between my fingers, then slowly attempting to place it over the impression. My stomach churns, threatening to revolt, as the taste of bile lingers at the back of my throat. I shiver uncontrollably, cold sweat beading my forehead. My throat begins to burn; the taste becoming acidic and bitter, then, with a sudden, violent heave, the contents of my stomach are expelled. I empty the remaining teeth into the toilet bowl, and then flush several times to get rid of them, remembering his last taunting words.
‘I’m not one to make idle threats.’
I had the substitute teacher take over and finish the class. With a madman pursuing me, I don’t feel I’m the best person to be around children. Their safety is and always has been my utmost priority, and the Head teacher recommended I took a short period of rest to ensure I can return back to work at full capacity, as he had noticed that something was clearly off. He mentioned that my usual energy and enthusiasm were noticeably absent, replaced instead by a pallor and an air of distraction.
You could say that!
He observed my trembling hands, the tension in my posture, and the distant look in my eyes. And before I could contest his decision, he’s pushing me out of the door.
‘Get some rest, Tarran. I’ll give you a ring next week and see how you’re getting on.’
I pinch the bridge of my nose as I settle into my car. Initially, looking into the rearview mirror, behind the seats, and wondering if my pursuer is hiding in the boot.
I’m going crazy!
As a storm begins to brew, I race home, desperate to avoid the impending rain. It’s not even been twenty-four hours since this man became my shadow, attaching himself to me, infiltrating my house – and now, he’s gained access to my mind. Because I can’t stop thinking if he’s there at home now, waitingfor me.
Juggling my briefcase and a few groceries I make my way towards the front door.
It’s closed. That’s something.
I unlock my front door as water descends from the clouds. Then, I slowly push the door open, my eyes taking in every detail, my ears straining to hear any noise from inside.
I sigh, running my hands through my hair as I step over the threshold.
The door was locked! I’m being so stupid.
I head for the kettle, flicking the switch, and I call out to an imaginary friend –just in case.
‘Want a cup of tea?’ My heart beats furiously.
My house has always been my sanctuary, it’s small but cosy, but more importantly it’s mine. I reach for a knife out of the knife block, and grip it tightly as I expect someone to appear from the shadows. Every creak and groan of the floorboards amplifies my anxiety, even though it’s me making the noises. My heart beats faster and faster as my breath hitches. I can hear my pulse pounding in my ears making me freeze on the spot, but the click of the kettle has me jumping out of my skin. My eyes strain into the darkness; as the curtains are drawn. I scoot back towards the kettle opening a drawer, and my heart skips a beat. The familiar arrangement of knives and forks has been disturbingly altered. I reach for the much larger knife, and frantically begin swapping the cutlery back to Forks, Knives, and Spoons.
