Chapter 1


Goodness! One more dash… I’m almost there. I can’t miss this bus!
I’m out of breath. I feel sick. No, he can’t do this to me! He can see me running. He can see I’m at my limit, steering these ridiculously high heels.
I can’t believe it. Just like that…As I was coming so close. I could almost feel the warm air inside brushing my face. He shut the doors as I was reaching for them.
These people have a professional illness. They actually enjoy it. This is their chance to be in control of destinies. Makes you wonder why they never choose to control destinies of those who’re young, long-legged and in good shape. It always falls on someone like me – chubby, short, knocking on my fifties.
He’s left me here all alone. Tears roll up in my eyes. I’ve lost my last chance to catch a bus tonight. I take a deep breath. I’m left to walk through these dark empty streets in the middle of this giant estate.
My heels are knocking against the ground sending a long echo. I hear it resonate in the forest of the tower blocks. I try to kill this sound, but there’s not much I can do as my unruly body collapses down on the steep platform of my shoes with every step I take.
I’m beginning to see things. I imagine gangs of hooded teenagers emerging from round the corner. Then I see an imposing silhouette in the shadow of that tree and the glow of lusty eyes fixed on me. But above all I imagine heavy footsteps just behind me. They are following me. They are closing in. And this image is something I can’t shake off. It’s becoming more and more persistent. It’s taking hold of me.
I try to calm myself. I stop and listen into the darkness. I’m too scared to look back, but I’m listening carefully. It’s all quiet. I’m here on my own. Nobody’s chasing me.
I’m about to take a step. I’m already raising my leg to stamp on my heel when…
Good God! I can hear footsteps behind me. Now I can, I definitely can. It’s no longer my imagination.
I touch the ground with my heel. My heart is pounding. I’m walking, but I can’t even hear the clatter of my heels. What just a minute ago didn’t seem to be possible, suddenly comes to me naturally. I’m hardly breathing, focusing my entire attention on the footsteps behind.
The footsteps are heavy, just as I imagined. What’s more, I can no longer be sure it was my imagination. They may have been behind me all the time. But why should this guy be after me? He’s just strolling along the pavement, minding his own business… Hang on! He’s quickened his step, hasn’t he?
I walk faster too. I don’t manage to pull away by so much as an inch. He’s certainly trying to keep up with me. He’s very close to me now. I can hear his abrupt husky breath. His jacket is swishing in the wind.
I run… I can no longer wait. I do my best, but how long can I possibly hold out for? He’s so close behind. He’ll grab me whenever he chooses, whenever he’s tired of this race.
My life is rolling before my eyes. What was it about? Nothing… Even at this final moment I have nothing of value to remember. Born, grew up, changed jobs, failed to forge a meaningful relationship… died. I hate my life! I hate it! I hate myself even more for being so afraid to part with it, for running so fast, for gasping for air so desperately.
I trip over something on the ground. Then I find myself in free fall. I screw up my eyes, I expect my body to meet the solid of the pavement, but it doesn’t happen. This fall is never-ending… I gradually disappear into it.

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Joan’s first impression came from flowery curtains - once colourful, but now faded, with green and red still visible in the folds fluttering in the draught from the window. The impression was rather weak, but Joan couldn’t shift her attention to anything else. She was confused.
What’s going on? – was the only question on her mind. She forced herself to look around. This exercise brought a result. The sight of electronic devices by her bed and, most importantly, an oxygen mask dangling over her head convinced her in no time that she was in a hospital.
She remembered the dark night on the estate. She remembered herself being chased, that gripping fear in her chest… losing that race…
I’ve been assaulted, she thought and tears welled up in her eyes.
She suddenly felt so sorry for herself. It was a strange detached feeling as though she was thinking of someone else, as though she was watching a sentimental movie. Why were you born, human being? What did you see in your life? – she pondered.
It was nice of them, though, to put me in a private room.
She had another look around. She was on her own here. No other beds were in her room. Joan noticed a wardrobe opposite and a small table with a chair by the window. She had never been in a private hospital before, but this was exactly how she had imagined it – comfort, tranquillity, privacy. Had she got lucky for once in her life?
The trail of her thoughts was cut short. The door of her room opened and a man in a white coat came in.
When he looked at her, the expression on his face changed from pensive and focused to startled and even disturbed.
‘Welcome back, Miss Sommers. How do you feel?’ he finally uttered
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Joan said weakly. She had a feeling that she could speak with more vigour, and this weakness of hers was a notch exaggerated.
‘I’m glad you’re well…’ the doctor faltered.
Now Joan could see he was very confused himself. He didn’t even come close to her bed, but froze by the door as he entered.
A junior, she thought.
‘Doctor, could you, please, tell me what’s wrong with me?’ she tried to assist him.
‘You had a severe shock. But hopefully you’ll be alright soon.’
‘Severe shock?!’ exclaimed Joan. ‘Is that all?’
‘Yes…’ said the doctor. ‘Well, there was a bruise on your arm and your knee, and a slight scratch on your face. But you shouldn’t worry about it, really…’ his voice faded away. Then he spoke up again:
‘Sorry, I’ve got to go now. I need to check something.’
He opened the door but didn’t walk out straight away. He suddenly turned round and said:
‘Police officers here want to have a chat with you. When you’re ready, could you, please let me know…’
‘I’m ready,’ said Joan firmly.
This was her chance to clarify things. So far her recollection was rather incomplete and it was making less and less sense. She found it extraordinary that after such an horrific ordeal she had suffered nothing but shock. She felt almost cheated.
To her surprise two police officers came in almost immediately.
One of them introduced himself and his colleague:
‘PS James… PS Martin…’
They looked around for chairs. Joan pointed to the one by the table. PS James took that chair. PS Martin was left standing.
‘Miss Sommers, we don’t have much time,’ said PS James. ‘I’ll get straight to the point. How long have you known Julia Knoss for?’
‘Who?’ choked Joan.
‘Julia Knoss,’ repeated PS James with some irritation.
Joan was stupefied. What Julia Knoss? What about her own ordeal? And why are they staring at her like that? Not a touch of sympathy, nothing but… arrogance and contempt!
‘I don’t know Julia Knoss, not even the name…’
‘Are you sure?’ PS James looked at Joan. He squinted his birdy eyes, sending wrinkles across his temples.
Joan opened her mouth with astonishment. She felt as though she was being interrogated. She was completely unprepared for such treatment.
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ she finally responded.
‘So, what you’re saying,’ PS James arched his eyebrows, ‘is that yesterday you saw Julia Knoss for the first time in your life?’
‘I have never seen Julia Knoss in my life!’ yelped Joan and her lips and then her entire body began to quiver.
‘I suggest you calm down,’ said PS James, ‘and try to remember…’
PS Martin put his hand on PS James’ shoulder which made him pause and look up, whereupon PS Martin gave him an eloquent glance.
When PS James looked back at Joan, he said:
‘I am arresting you on the suspicion of murder of Julia Knoss. You do not have to say anything but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence… Do you understand?’
When PS James had finished his long sentence Joan could no longer hear anything. She was petrified. All the blood in her body rushed to her head. Her pulse was violently thumping in her temples.
‘It’s impossible,’ she finally blurted and burst into tears.
‘I’ve never killed anybody in my life!’ she shrieked. ‘I don’t know this Knoss woman! I was a victim myself. I was raped!!!’
PS Martin and PS James exchanged glances.
‘Who raped you?’ asked PS James carefully enunciating every word.
Joan was staring at him, right into his very small eyes. She was no longer crying. She had a fearsome revelation.
She didn’t know who had raped her. She couldn’t be sure that she had been raped at all. She couldn’t be sure that she had been assaulted in any other way. Her memories of the night on the estate were more than incomplete. They were non-existent. She could remember the fall, but nothing, absolutely nothing after that…