Bound by Ivy (24 page)

75

After PAIN leave, I begin to scream. Weakly at first, and then as loud as I can.

‘
HELP ME PLEASE! HEELLLPP!
’

But no one comes.

When I’m all screamed out, the panic of being totally alone hits me. Shackled to the wall like this, with no food or water, blood running freely from my waist, I’ll die within days.

Outside, it seems like the night is gettin
g darker and darker. I feel like I’m being choked by blackness. It crawls down my dry throat and dances around the spikes in my waist.

Hours
pass, but I have no way of knowing what the time is.

At some point in the night
I must pass out, because I open crusty eyelids to see the dawn rising, and feel an odd sense of hope as the sky turns dusky grey.

My wrist is
totally numb now. It must be broken, but I think some sort of natural painkiller has kicked in.

The blood
around my waist keeps coming, though. Every time I breathe, the spikes pierce my skin and keep the wounds open.

I feel vomit heave into
my mouth and swallow it down. My mouth is so dry.

I watch
the sun rise from a far window and see the black dots of birds fly past.

‘Help,’ I croak again
. ‘HELP! HELP!
HEELP MEEE PLEEEASE!
’

But
no one comes. Way up here in this abandoned tower block, there’s no one to hear me.

After a while
I smell petrol fumes and realise the daily traffic must have started. The sun climbs higher in the sky, until it disappears over the tower block and I can’t see it anymore.

I keep screaming, ‘HELP! HELP!’ until my voice is hoarse, but still nobody comes.

I think of Marc and my family. I love them all so much. I’d gladly sacrifice myself for any one of them. But I ache to think of how my disappearance must be hurting them, scaring them, right now. And the thought of never coming back to them, to Marc ... it’s unbearable.

I
pull at the manacles, but only succeed in creating a fresh ring of pain around my waist and a new flow of blood.

I’m trapped. Totally and utterly trapped. And nobody knows where I am.

I must fall asleep again somewhere around midday, because for one glorious moment I think I hear Marc whispering in my ear, telling me everything is going to be okay. But when I open my eyes, I’m still alone, shackled and getting dizzier with every breath.

T
he sun begins to set once more, and I think about Marc. My time with him was so beautiful. So very beautiful.

76

As dusk falls, I look down at the torture device, then up at my hands. There must be something, something I can do to get out of here.

I give a few more weak shouts, but my voice is so wrecked that I can barely hear myself, let alone get someone else’s attention.

I can move my legs, but not without causing a great deal of pain around my waist.

Holding my breath, I bring my kn
ee up as hard and high as I can towards the torture device, thinking maybe I can knock a hinge out of place or something.

The spikes press right into my flesh, digging in deeper than they ever have before, and the air is knocked out of me as fresh blood pours down my skirt.

I’m dizzy for a moment, trying to focus.

My knee
didn’t even make contact with the metal. It came nowhere near.

As I’m wonder
ing whether to try again, I hear the echo of shoes hitting the concrete stairwell, and my breathing goes from fast to turbo.

Oh my god. Someone is coming. Someone is coming!

‘Help,’ I croak. ‘Please help me.’

A shadow
appears at the top of the stairwell, and gets bigger and longer.

For a glorious moment, hope lifts me and I feel light and free
of pain. Then I see who it is.

Oh my god, oh my god.

It’s Warren, his face drenched in sweat.

He has
a crowbar in his hand, and his low voice echoes around the empty tower block.

‘I think it’s time for you and I to play, don’t you?’

‘Weren’t you supposed to leave me to die?’ I croak.

‘The thought of you, all bloody and begging,’ says Warren. ‘I couldn’t stay away.’

‘Where are the others?’

Warren frowns. ‘They’ve got other things to worry about right now.’

‘I won’t scream,’ I tell him. ‘And I won’t beg.’

‘We’ll see about that. I’m very good. Very, very good. Just you wait and see.’

My vision starts going hazy as Warren comes closer, but through the blur and black spots I see something – another shadow on the stairwell.

Perhaps
Yasmina and Cecile are coming after all. Maybe they’re angry with Warren for coming here without them.

T
he shadow keeps growing. Getting longer and taller, and I see ... I see ...

It can’t be.

I shake my head.

Marc
.

He can’t be real.
I must have passed out again. This is a dream. But then I hear his voice, firm and deep.

‘Move away from h
er, Warren. Right now.’

Warren’s shoulders shoot up in shock. He turns, and stumbles a little when he sees Marc coming up the staircase.

Marc’s eyes burn into mine. ‘Sophia, he won’t touch you. You have my word. I’ll kill him first.’ He turns to Warren. ‘You must have known it would be a risk coming back here.’

‘I couldn’t stay away.’ Warren slaps the crowbar into his palm and takes a few steps forwards. ‘The risk was worth it for her.’

‘You won’t get anywhere near her.’

‘I can try.’

Marc strides towards Warren, and like lightning his fist connects with Warren’s jaw.

Warren stumbles
back. He looks dazed, and puts a hand to his face.

Then he lunges forwards, swinging the crowbar at Marc.

The crowbar connects with Marc’s shoulder, and Marc’s face registers pain, but he doesn’t stumble or stoop. Instead, he punches Warren squarely on the hand so the crowbar goes spinning to the ground.

The next punch Marc delivers is so fast that I don’t even see it. I only see Warren stumble backwards, throwing hands to his c
hest, his face white and afraid as he goes sprawling towards a gaping hole that used to be a window.

At first, I think Warren is
going to catch himself before he falls. But he’s just a little too late to find his footing, and his heavy, lumpy body topples backwards, out and down.

I look away, hearing
the sickly crashing sound of Warren hitting the floor outside.

And then silence.

‘Sophia.’ Marc is by my side now. I don’t know how he reached me so fast.

‘Is
he dead?’ I whisper.

‘Probably.’

‘Is it really you?’ I say, as Marc unfastens the screw from the torture device. ‘I’m not dreaming again, am I?’

‘I
f this were a dream,’ says Marc, ‘I would have been here sooner. I need to get you to a hospital.’ He pulls the ring free from my waist, and I wince in pain.

A fresh flur
ry of blood flows as the spikes come free of my flesh, and Marc catches me as I fall forwards.

Dropping the torture device and h
olding me with one hand, Marc reaches up and unscrews the manacles.

With a clank, the right one comes free and my arm falls down. It’s totally numb and white and empty of blood, and I can’t feel it at all.

‘How did you find me?’ I whisper, as Marc goes to work on the left manacle.

‘
Cecile came to see me. It seems you put on a very convincing show of pretending I might be in love with her. After her visit, we used CCTV to track her movements. One camera at a time. We found Yasmina that way. Then Warren.’

‘CCTV?’

‘MET security streams. They have cameras all around London. I had temporary access. A rare privilege, and one I will be eternally grateful for.’

I flinch
as Marc loosens the screw on the left manacle. As my arm falls away, a shudder of pain shoots into my wrist and hand.

Marc catches my arm and holds my cold wrist to his lips.
Then he scoops me up. ‘Yasmina and Cecile are in custody. But Warren got away from us. We tracked footage of him coming here.’

I see blue police lights flas
hing outside.

‘
Let’s get you out of here.’

77

When Marc carries me out into the open air, I’m not prepared for the flurry of activity that explodes around me.

Police and ambulance people
rush forwards. A stretcher bed is raced over the craggy ground.

B
efore I know what’s happening, Marc lifts me onto the stretcher and helps the paramedics strap me down.

‘Marc
—’

‘It’s okay,’
Marc whispers. ‘I’m right beside you. Now and always.’

As I’m wheeled into
the ambulance, Marc stays by my side, gripping my good hand like he’s afraid I might slip away.

The journey through London in the amb
ulance is a blur, but on the way, a drip is put into my arm.

At the hospital,
I’m tested for all sorts of things, but in the end, all the doctors diagnose is dehydration and loss of blood.

My injuries aren’t bad
. There was superficial damage to my intestines, but nothing that won’t heal. My wrist bone was cracked, and needs some time in plaster. I’ve been lucky, everyone tells me, over and over again.

Yes, I tell them.

I know.

*****

As I stand outside Marc’s farmhouse, watching two delivery men hulk a very familiar sofa towards the front door, I thank god for how very, very lucky and blessed I am.

P
AIN have been sentenced to life in prison for attempted murder, with the exception of Cecile. She was given a lighter sentence on medical grounds, and will be given psychological help in prison. But she’ll be locked away for a long time.

Apart from a ring of scars around my waist, my injuries have totally healed. And
Marc and I have moved into the farmhouse together.

We’re so in love, it’s crazy. And after what happened, well ... let’s just say we’re both determined to make every day count. You never know what’s around the corner.

My family don’t know too much about the night the show finished, but they know I went missing, and that Marc turned over the whole city to find me. And that without Marc, I could have been badly hurt.

Needless to say, Dad realises that any man who could tap into the MET security streams to find his daughter is a man who will take care of me. Now and always.

‘Hi.’ I wave at the delivery men. ‘Let me show you the way.’

The sofa is a soft beige colour, and
hand-embroidered with tiny bells and crosses.

My mother did the embroidery before she died,
and the sofa was in the annex with me for a long time before the new tenants moved in. I stored it at Jen’s house while I was at Ivy College, but as soon as I told Marc about it, he decided we should bring it here so I could see it every day.

Marc’s put me in charge of decorating our new home. He’s taken me
to countless designer home stores, but I never quite see anything that feels right, so I’ve mostly made things myself, or bought furniture from thrift stores and fixed it up. It feels more personal that way.

The result is that
our home is a little bit of a mishmash, but it feels really warm and friendly.

Marc comes to stand beside me
as I watch the two men lumber towards the house. He slides his hand into mine, and I feel those familiar tingles in my stomach.

‘It’s arrived then,
’ he says.

‘Yes
. And I promise after this, they’ll only be a few more deliveries. We’re nearly done.’

‘
You can have as many deliveries as you want.’ He kisses me on the head and squeezes a thumb into my palm. Then he stands back to let the delivery men into the house. ‘I love watching you home-making.’

We follow the men
inside.

‘Where would you like this,
sir?’ one of the men asks Marc, nodding at the sofa.

Marc turns to me and gives me th
at mesmerising smile of his. ‘Would the lady of the house care to answer that?’

My insides go
all soft. ‘Over there please, just by that plant.’

The house, of course, is full of plants
now. I did warn Marc that I can go a little plant crazy. I’m always seeing sad brown-leaved plants by skips, or on ‘last chance’ sale in the plant centre, and I just have to rescue them and bring them back to life.

Marc understands.

After Marc has tipped the delivery men and they’ve jumped into their van, we stand in the living room, looking at Mum’s sofa.

‘Thank you,’ I say, feeling love well up in my chest. ‘It’s so good to have
this back with me.’

‘It lo
oks very much at home,’ says Marc.

I squeeze his
hand. ‘I wish you could have met my mum. She would have loved you.’

‘I wish I could have met her too.’

I sit on the sofa, pulling Marc down with me. ‘Comfy, isn’t it?’

He laughs. ‘Very. And I’m glad you’re sitting down. Because I think this is the perfect place to ask you something
that’s been on my mind for a while.’

‘Oh?’

Marc lifts himself from the sofa, then bends down on one knee.

He takes a
box from his pocket.