The Death Club Read online

  “Enough!”

  I ignore him.

  “In a moment, I want you to run. Out of the house, to one of the neighbours, and get them to call 999.”

  “I said enough!”

  “Do not worry about me. Just get help, and get yourself to safety.”

  She nods. A tear runs down her cheek, and I wish I could wipe it away.

  “It’ll be okay,” I assure her.

  “Stop it.”

  “It will—”

  Felix grabs Harper by the back of the hair and in such a quick movement it doesn’t register at first, he slams her head against the table.

  “No!” I shout, and he goes to do it again.

  I dive on him.

  He shoves me off, and keeps hold of Harper.

  I’ve never been in a fight in my life. I’ve never swung a punch, and I’ve never taken one. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I don’t have a choice — I leap toward the arm that holds Harper and bite it, digging my teeth in, hard, feeling his flesh and bone.

  He releases Harper and she falls to the floor. Dizzy. Groggy.

  Come on Harper, please get up. Please battle through it.

  Felix punches my chin and knocks me off. The pain overwhelms me to begin with, then subsides. The adrenaline makes it tolerable, if only temporarily.

  He reaches for Harper again and I dive on his back, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “Go, Harper! Go!”

  She pushes herself to her feet and stumbles. She’s concussed and, under other circumstances, I would be calling an ambulance — but I need her to get help.

  “Come on!”

  Finally, she gathers herself, and stares at us.

  Felix is too strong for me. He lunges an elbow backwards, into my chest, winding me, taking me to the floor, then launches his head forward and headbutts me.

  My grip loosens and I feel blood trickle from my nose and land on my lip.

  Harper runs.

  Felix goes after her, but I push myself up, dive, and manage to grab a foot and trip him up.

  His hand just misses Harper, and she is able to make it to the door, and leave, running into the storm.

  Felix doesn’t go after her.

  He stands. Towering over me as I lay on the floor, staring up at his intimidating presence.

  He smirks.

  He can smile all he wants, Harper made it out.

  He crouches over me. His grin widens.

  “You idiot,” he tells me.

  I say nothing.

  He can call me an idiot all he wants, anything that stalls him, anything that bides time while we wait for the real police to get here.

  But he doesn’t seem bothered. In fact, he laughs; a slow, ominous chuckle.

  “Really, I never get guys like you. Supposed to be smart but as stupid as it comes.”

  That’s it, keep talking.

  Keep wasting time.

  “Do you really think I came alone?”

  This throws me. “What?”

  “Do you really think there’s no one else out there?”

  I don’t understand what he means at first, then I realise; Destiny. She’s still out there.

  Harper will be running straight toward her.

  I try to push myself to my feet, but a boot in my face forces me back to the floor. I’m too dizzy to fight, meaning it’s easy for him to mount my back and pull my hands behind me.

  “Harper!” I shout. “Harper!”

  But it’s no good. She’s in the middle of the storm and all she’ll be able to hear is rain.

  The discomfort of steel around my wrists tells me it’s over. He’s handcuffed me, and I’m going nowhere.

  51

  Harper

  The rain is getting colder and harder, but I ignore it. It’s not important. Once I get to a neighbour, I can call the police and they can help Dad.

  If they get there in time, that is.

  I skid on the slippery surface of the driveway and collapse into a puddle. The knees of my jeans rip and a patch of blood accompanies a slight sting, but I push myself up again. I can deal with it later.

  I’m not a good runner. I’ve never tried hard in PE or been into sports, but I run hard now, sprinting, trying to make it to the end of the drive.

  But I don’t.

  I halt.

  A silhouette watches me. Familiar. Standing at the end of the drive, blocking my escape. I squint to see who it is.

  She steps forward and her face emerges and it’s her, it’s her, she’s still here — what is she still doing here?

  I almost turn to run back into the house, but it’s just as bad in there as it is out here, then I consider if I can run past her, but I can’t, she’s tall, athletic, crazy, she’ll get me, she’ll stop me oh God oh God she’ll stop me.

  “Harper,” she says, shouting to be heard above the elements.

  That’s all she says.

  She’s calling out to me, like she wants to talk.

  I don’t move.

  “Harper, I need to tell you the truth.”

  I glance over my shoulder.

  The front door is still open.

  What if Felix has killed Dad? What if he comes running after me?

  I’m not sure Dad even knows how to handle himself. Felix is a big guy. Dad’s a scrawny, tired man who lets his alcoholic wife walk all over him.

  “I want to tell you the truth about your Dad,” she says.

  “Go away!”

  I hate myself for the tremble in my voice.

  “But I have to tell you the truth.”

  “Just leave me alone!”

  I don’t care what she says; all I care about is getting past her, getting across the drive, away from the house, and to a neighbour.

  But as she steps toward me, I step back, and a puddle makes me slip, and I try to get up but my legs are heavy and I can’t.

  She stands over me. Her face becomes clearer. She looks like any other insecure teenage girl, but I find it hard to see anything but a monster.

  “Don’t believe his lies, Harper.”

  “Please, just let me go.”

  She crouches over me. Rain hits her face as furiously as it hits mine, but while water drips from my hair into my eyes and I have to wipe it away to be able to see, she doesn’t seem at all bothered.

  “Is there really no way I can convince you?” she asks.

  “No. There isn’t.”

  “Oh, Harper. Then I have no reason to keep you.”

  I push myself to my feet and go to run but her hand is around my ankle and I fall on my face, hard, hard against the ground, and my elbows scrape and my knees scrape and I see blood.

  Her foot presses into my back. She’s wearing heels.

  Her hand grabs my hair, lifts my head, exposes my neck, and I wait for a knife to meet my skin but it doesn’t. I don’t even know if she has a weapon. I just expect it.

  “I loved your dad, Harper,” she says, leaning down, putting her lips as close to my ear as I can.

  The feel of her breath makes me shiver.

  “But he hurt me. And now I have to hurt him.”

  “Please…”

  Something metal clamps around my wrist, then the other. My hands are bound behind my back. I try to push myself up with my legs but I can’t balance.

  She’s laughing.

  I can hear her laughing.

  Yet, as I look at her, watching the rain wash away her makeup, ruining her outfit, causing the hair dye to run down her neck, I realise she is nothing but evil without its disguise.

  And I see you, Destiny.

  I see what you are.

  “You’re pathetic,” I tell her.

  She giggles. Like a little girl.

  “You really are.”

  “Me? Look at you!”

  “You are—”

  “You have no friends. No family. You are so fucking lonely you let a stranger on the internet turn you into a liar. You are pathetic, Harper. You are.”r />
  “I know.”

  She laughs.

  “I know I’m pathetic,” I continue. “But at least I’m aware. You walk around clueless, believing you’re perfect, with no idea just how much everyone hates you. At least I know everyone detests me — do you?”

  Her smiles and her laughs subside, replaced by a sneer, a vile flicker of anger.

  She leans down, close to me, our lips almost touching, my eyes losing focus, and I can smell the mint chewing gum and the cheap perfume mixed with rainwater.

  “Talk to me like that again,” she says, “and I will kill you before Daddy gets the chance.”

  I almost think she’s going to kiss me. She’s unstable enough. Instead, she stands, grabs me by the hair, lifts me to my feet, and she drags me across the drive and into the house and through to the dining room where she shoves me onto a chair.

  Next to Dad.

  Who is also handcuffed.

  And Destiny stands next to her father — her daddy — and they look at their catch, admiring their work, and I wonder if we’re about to die.

  52

  Will

  I was holding onto the only hope I had — that Harper made it out alive. The only way to endure this sick bastard’s tirade is knowing that my daughter made it out alive, and that she is safe.

  But the door opens, and here she is.

  A drenched Destiny enters, dragging Harper by the hair, and my world ends.

  I can’t even move, can’t even reach a hand out to her, as it is fastened around the back my seat. I try to reach out to her with my eyes, try to show her I love her, but she can’t look up. I don’t know if it’s shame or terror — or both — but she can’t even lift her face.

  Destiny joins her demented father and they stand before us, looking at us with such satisfaction, such smug faces, pleased that they’ve won.

  “Go get a knife, darling,” says Felix, and Destiny obliges, sauntering into the kitchen, swaying her backside from side to side, collecting a knife and practically dancing back into the room. Her jauntiness is terrifying.

  Felix steps toward me. Stands over me. Casts me in his shadow. Leers.

  “Do you regret it?” he asks, and I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  I look at Harper, trying to catch her eye. Maybe if I kick up enough of a fuss, she can make a run for it.

  Felix’s fist lands on my chin, sending pain rushing up the side of my neck and my face.

  “I’m talking to you.”

  Despite my better judgement, the coward in me prevails, and I look at up at him.

  “I said, do you regret it?”

  “Regret what?” I spit.

  Felix laughs. Looks at Destiny, who folds her arms. Shakes her head pitifully, her disdain directed at me.

  He punches me again, this time in my belly. It winds me, it’s a while before I can breathe properly again.

  “Answer the question,” he says.

  “I would if I knew what you were talking about.”

  I’d love to say that this was a witty retort, a defiance in the face of danger — but it was genuine pleading. I want to know what he’s asking me so I can answer it and prevent further pain.

  “You…” Felix’s anger becomes too much and he strikes me again, this time in the side of my neck, and for a few seconds I can’t breathe, and I panic until I’m able to take in air again.

  “Do you regret it?”

  “Regret what?”

  I hate the desperation in my voice.

  “Leading me on!” Destiny interjects, her voice shrill and unhinged. “For making me think you love me! For hurting a girl as young as me!”

  I’d laugh if this wasn’t so frightening. They are both as sick and deluded as each other.

  “I didn’t.”

  “What did you say?” Felix grips my neck.

  “I said… I didn’t.”

  “Are you accusing my daughter of lying?”

  I glance at Destiny, who looks to be taking much satisfaction from my pain.

  I try to reply, but his grip is too tight. He loosens it so I can talk.

  “I don’t think she’s lying,” I answer. “Just mistaken.”

  “Mistaken?”

  “She’s convinced I love her, and she believes it, so she’s not lying. But that still doesn’t mean it’s true.”

  Felix turns to his daughter, they exchange a look of disbelief, and he bursts into raucous laughter.

  “Well what do you know! He sounds like a fucking teacher, through and through, doesn’t he?”

  “Please…”

  I look at Harper. Her head has dropped. She’s crying silently, and I feel angry and scared and vengeful and hopeless all at the same time.

  “You being smart with me?” Felix asks.

  “No…”

  “You think you’re better than me, that you’re a good talker, that it?”

  “No, I just…”

  “Just what?” He gets close to me again. “What? What is it you want?”

  “For you to leave us alone. Please, and we will leave you alone too.”

  “Oh, it’s too late for that.” He looks over his shoulder at Destiny. “Wouldn’t you say, dearest?”

  “Oh, far, far too late,” she concurs.

  Felix steps away and walks up to his daughter, placing a hand on her face. He kisses her forehead and she smiles dotingly and I hate that, despite being a sick bastard, this guy is still a better father than me.

  “Who wouldn’t want a girl like this?” he asks me. “Do you know what I think?”

  He doesn’t wait for a reply.

  “I think any man of your age would want this beautiful young woman. You were lucky enough that she gave a little interest your way, and you took advantage.”

  “That’s not what happened—”

  “Stop lying!” he screams.

  He takes a moment, allows his heavy breathing to subside, and once he is calm enough, he takes the hand of his daughter.

  “My darling,” he says, “which would you like?”

  Destiny looks satisfied with this question, and she shifts her seductive gaze between me and Harper, back to me, back to Harper, back to me, then back to Harper.

  “Her,” she decides. “I want to kill her.”

  Harper lifts her head.

  “No,” I say. “No! You can’t! Have me instead!”

  Felix chuckles. “You don’t get it, there’s no instead — just which of you I kill, and which of you my dearest kills.”

  “No… Please… I’ll do anything…”

  “Anything? How about turn back time and avoid breaking my daughter’s heart, hey? How about not taking advantage of her!”

  I go to respond, but I can’t reason with them. I’ve tried. Death is inevitable.

  “Fine,” I say, taking a different tact. “Fine, I hurt her. I took advantage. Is that what you want? It was my fault, I take responsibility, it was me! Now will you let my daughter go?”

  “Finally!” Felix gesticulates wildly to emphasise his glee. “Bloody finally! He admits it — glory hallelujah!”

  “Now will you let her go?”

  His grin widens.

  “Darling,” he says, turning toward his daughter and handing her some rope. “Why don’t you take Harper upstairs for a little girl time?”

  “Oh, yes Daddy, yes!”

  Destiny dances over to Harper and grabs her by the hair.

  “No!” I scream, and I do everything I can to try to stand up. “No! Leave her alone! Leave her alone!”

  Harper struggles, but Destiny puts a knife by her throat and she stops.

  “Don’t hurt her! Leave her alone!”

  I manage to stand, but the chair that’s still bound to my back becomes too heavy and I fall. Nevertheless, I force myself back to my feet, struggling to balance.

  Felix gives Destiny some rope as she drags Harper out of the room and up the stairs.

  I try to chase after, but a fist in the side of my he
ad knocks me to the ground, and everything loses focus.

  53

  Harper

  Destiny drags me to my room and throws me onto my bed. I try to get up, and I try to struggle, but the handcuffs are so tight that all movement causes pain.

  She pushes me onto my back and sits on top of me. Her perfect legs are either side of my waist, and her dress rides up to the base of her underwear. Everything about her is sexual, from the way she moves, to the way she sits on top of me, to the way she reveals everything without being obviously obscene. Even the way she smiles is erotic. Her tongue presses playfully against the gap between her top and bottom teeth — and it strikes me just how different we are.

  Destiny likes to be noticed. She likes boys to look at her. She likes to sit at the centre of the lunch table and have people laugh. I prefer to sink into the background. I prefer to enter a room and leave it later without anyone ever knowing I was there.

  Maybe it won’t be too bad if I die. There won’t be a gap in anyone’s life, there wouldn’t be a tree planted for me at school, and there wouldn’t be anyone who would remember my name in a year’s time.

  But then there’s Dad.

  I’m finally getting a father.

  And that’s something I do want to live for.

  “Oh, Harper,” Destiny says in a singsong voice normally reserved for toddlers. She giggles, and it comes out like a squeak, and my entire body fills with contempt.

  “What are we going to do with you?” She pretends to think. “First, let’s get you tied up.”

  She uses her rope to tie my ankles to the corners of the bed, tying them hard. I try to resist but she places the tip of the knife against my throat and says, “Struggle, and it all ends here,” then finishes tying my ankle and takes out a key.

  She keeps the knife by my neck, tells me to sit up, uses her spare hand to release one of my wrists from the handcuffs. She lies me back down and lifts the still cuffed wrist to the railing headboard at the top of my bed.

  She goes to move my other hand, but I keep it behind my back.

  She smirks.

  “Try it,” she tells me. She presses the knife harder against my neck, and she lowers her face to mine. “Try it and they won’t even have a face for someone to identify.”