Faces...part 1.........Vic Davey

 FACES

It was always at night when they came. I don´t mean the Dreams, they stopped a while ago, in any case, to dream you have to sleep and I do precious little of that. No, it´s the Faces. You know that Twilight state between sleep and awake, the witching hour, that time before Dawn chases the night away, that´s when they appear, materialising out of the shadows one by one as though on a ghostly conveyor.

I remember them all, well, except for the first one I killed as I didn´t get to see his face, or what was left of it. Young guy in a hoody on one of those scooter things you see in the movies buzzing around the streets of Rome. Came straight out of a side-street, no chance to stop, broadsided him. Scooter goes skittering across the road, he flies up in the air and lands in a crumpled heap about 20 yards away, no helmet either.

Everything I remember after that comes in flashbacks. I got out of my car, my legs like they belonged to a jelly baby. I glanced at the smashed front end and wobbled my way towards the body. By then a small crowd had gathered, two on mobiles calling the Emergency Services and another couple of weirdo´s, filming it all. My legs gave way and I collapsed onto the pavement.

I remember the sound of sirens, the flashing red and blue lights, the Paramedic who helped me up and into an Ambulance and giving me something for the shock. I recall being driven to the Police Station, giving a statement and overhearing a couple of Officers talking.

 Apparently the guy had just mugged an old lady for her Pension money and made a run for it on his get-away scooter, until I stopped him. It seems he was a bad lot, string of convictions for violent crimes, GBH, drug dealing. I had the impression the Cops were only too happy to have one less villain on the streets to deal with. I was cleared of any driving offences or blame for the accident. 

Anyway, I took a week or so off work, had the car repaired and tried to get back to normal. That was, until my sister and niece turned up late one night. 

My sister Rosie was 5 years younger than me and, growing up, we were pretty close. She quite liked the idea of a big brother looking out for her and, truth be told, so did I. We were fine through our teens and then she met Steve and ended up marrying him. I didn´t like him from the start, too loud and opinionated for me and he seemed to constantly talk down to Rosie. But he was her choice and she loved him.  

We lost touch a little as time passed, which was natural under the circumstances and a few years into their marriage she gave birth to a daughter, Leah. It was at her first birthday family get together when I began to suspect that Rosie was in an abusive marriage. She seemed withdrawn, made little conversation and was certainly nervous especially when Steve was close by. It was so unlike her so I asked her if everything was ok, she said she was fine but I got the impression she really wanted to talk. Steve spotted us chatting and came and interrupted us so we never had  another chance. 

The party broke up and I left, giving Leah a kiss and Rosie a big hug, promising to get in touch soon. That´s when I spotted the bruises, one on each wrist, peeping out from the sleeve of her cardigan. She knew I had seen something and shook her head when I went to mention it and then Steve intervened again, stood beside her and put his arm around her.

Over the course of the next few days, I tried calling her on her mobile, but it either went to voicemail or Steve answered it, giving some excuse as to why Rosie could not talk. My suspicions grew as did my concerns about Rosie´s welfare.

One evening I was just getting ready for bed when there was a frantic hammering on my front door. It was Rosie, with Leah wrapped up in her arms. She was distraught and had driven the few miles to my house for refuge. Then the whole story came out.

 Steve had been mentally and physically abusing her for most of their married life but she had put up with it for the sake of Leah and although she had threatened to leave many times, Steve had always persuaded her to stay, he'd quit drinking, get counselling, that things would be different. But of course, things weren´t. Then he began to abuse Leah, shouting at her when she cried and picking her up to shake her…….

That was when Rosie had had enough, she picked up Leah, pushed her way past Steve who was drunk anyway, grabbed her handbag which contained her car keys and drove straight to me. I was seething with rage. I'm not a violent man by nature but all I wanted was to get round there and sort him out. Rosie managed to calm me down a little as I settled them in. She had been able to get out to her car but in her haste, had left everything else behind. All the shops were long closed so no chance of getting anything for Leah or clothes for herself.

This gave me my chance to go to the house and also pick up what she needed. I jumped in the car and headed out to where they lived in an old farmhouse on the edge of town, quite isolated as it happened, which was the way Steve had wanted it, of course. I sped through the back streets, avoided the main highways. I didn´t want to be held up by traffic lights etc. or, more importantly, caught by speed cameras or CCTV. I didn´t want to be spotted, not for what I had in mind anyway…….    

The tyres scrunched on the gravel as I turned on to the driveway, pulling up behind Steve's Range Rover. There was a bedroom light on upstairs and a floodlight startled me as I approached the house, it's cold light piercing the dark and illuminating most of the drive and the flowered borders. 

I let myself in with Rosie's front door key and called out to let Steve know it was me. No response, so I stepped into the hallway and closed the old, oak door behind me. I heard a TV quietly playing in the lounge at the end of the passage and, feeling like an intruder, but still  with anger, my adrenaline pulsing, I moved towards it. I poked my head around the door, unsure as to what reception I might get but, never the less was prepared for a physical confrontation if it came to it. Truth be told, I was kind of looking forward to it. 

Steve was not in there. I turned and walked across the hall to the kitchen, the door of which was ajar. Although the farmhouse was around 150 years old, I remembered the kitchen was definitely 22nd Century, all gleaming chrome and stainless steel with just about every labour saving device scattered across the worktops. 

I stepped in. Still no sign of Steve. I was about to turn and go out when I heard a faint noise coming from the other side of the central island near to the double sink.  I moved around it and there he was, lying on his back, blood pooling around the back of his head, spreading a dark stain across the slate tiles. Trickles of blood oozed from his ear and nose and his right arm was twisted grotesquely underneath him, broken, with white bone protruding through the skin. 

A smashed whisky bottle lay to one side, but little of it's contents were spilt, so I guessed it would have been pretty much empty when he fell. A sudden sound escaped from him, a kind of wet gurgle, a half cough and a gout of blood spouted from his mouth. I knelt beside him, avoiding the broken glass and spoke to him. Ridiculous now when I think about it afterwards. "Steve, can you hear me?" Of course he couldn't. I was partly in shock and yet still thinking clearly, I took out my mobile, my instinct was to phone the Emergency Services, but then stopped. They could be here in ten minutes or so, perhaps in enough time to save him….?

I stood up and looked down at him as his life ebbed away. Ok, so they saved him….would he still be the same guy? Would Rosie stand by him out of a sense of loyalty? I sensed she would. Maybe he'd be brain damaged, a vegetable for the rest of his life and for the rest of Rosie and Leah's. Would he want that either? 

There were no further sounds from him. I stood there, calmly looking down at him, thinking what a waste of a life, what drives someone to be like him, behave like  him. I almost felt sorry for him. I waited as minutes ticked by. There was no more sound from him. I then knelt again to feel for a pulse. There was none. He'd gone ….and then I called the Emergency Services…….

I came out of the kitchen into the hallway, past the lounge where, ironically, an episode of CSI was just starting on the TV. I opened the front door and stood on the step to wait for the Ambulance and Police. I needed to call Rosie, tell her what had happened and  prepare her for whatever came next. 

She answered on the second ring. "Where are you? Are you ok..", she said, anxiety in her voice.

"I'm fine, still at the house", I replied, uncertain how to continue. "Rosie, there's been an accident…."

"What do you mean, an accident? Where's Steve!"

There was no easy way to tell her. "Rosie, Steve's dead. He was drunk and fell." 

"Oh my God!" she cried, " Tell me you didn't…." 

" Of course not, he was already dead when I got here. I found him on the kitchen floor…. he'd fallen, hit his head" The lie tripped all to easily off my tongue. 

There was a gasp from Rosie. 

"Look, the Emergency Services are on their way," I could hear the sirens in the distance, approaching. "I'll be back as soon as I can. The Police will want interviews, statements etc. I'm going to tell the truth, Rosie, that you had an argument, came to me to stay for a bit and I came over to collect some stuff for you and found his body." It was mostly true…

She was obviously in shock. I made her promise to stay put until I got there. She wouldn't leave Leah anyway. 

Everything started happening after I hung up. The driveway was filled with Police cars, and an Ambulance  their lights flashing and strobing on the front of the house. Two Paramedics rushed in and I directed them to the Kitchen. A Detective Sergeant and an Inspector approached me. I explained who I was and what I was doing there. 

They led me to a Police car and asked me to sit in the back while they examined the scene. Another car arrived, two CSI guys who proceeded to don white overalls, gloves and overshoes. They disappeared inside each carrying a bag of equipment. 

Then the Medical Examiner turned up and I was left alone, the car locked to prevent me running off. I guessed, at that stage, I was a suspect in a suspicious death, at least until the cause was established. One of the CSI guys came out after awhile and requested a DNA swab, which I gave. Then the DI got in and questioned me……the first interview of many over the coming weeks, right up until the Inquest took place. 

I stuck to my story, that I had found his body and then called the Emergency Services. It was almost the truth…

The Inquest found that death was caused by a fall, Steve hitting the back of his head on the steel work surface while intoxicated. In itself, it would not have been the cause of death but, effectively, he'd drowned in his own blood. 

Over the course of the following weeks and months, Rosie was able to put it behind her and began to become again the sister I knew and loved. I always thought how amazingly resilient we humans can be. She sold the Farmhouse but made very little profit since, unbeknown to her, Steve had run up a string of debts which she had to settle. She and Leah moved in with me for awhile and since I worked mainly from home, saw them both everyday. I was able to help out with school runs etc. It was while seeing Leah into school one day, which led to my Face number three……