Amy

We had been arguing again, the same argument which had plagued us since Amy got her job at the local opticians.

‘Amy, why don’t you just look for a different job? Y’know you deserve better.’

‘It’s just my boss, Ruby. I can handle it.’

‘I know, but look, I did some research and saw this job advertised...‘

My voice trailed off as she straightened her back and looked me square in the eyes. ‘I told you, I don’t need another job. I get paid well.’

‘Please, Amy. He abuses you.’ I saw her flinch at the word. ‘You can’t let him treat you like this. Just think about it, please? I hate to see you come home upset every night because of what that man has said.’

She shrugged and dropped her gaze. ‘I don’t know. I can’t think right now. Maybe... maybe we should take a break for a while. If he thinks we’re not together anymore, he might stop the homophobic remarks.’

I looked at her standing before me. Green eyes stared back, tears threatening to spill again. Her eyeliner was smudged, and there were traces of it down her pale cheeks. I couldn’t give up what we had; she was beautiful.

‘Look. We will get through this. Okay? I’ll get help, there has to be a law against this, it’ll be alright. Yeah?’ I knew I was babbling but I couldn’t seem to stop.

She hung her head. I felt as though I was being held at the bottom of the sea, the water filling my lungs and crushing my chest.

‘Hey-‘

My voice broke. I wanted to remind her of the good times we had shared- the dog we rescued from the side of the road, the countless nights-in we had with a marvel film and chocolate, the trips to the theme park which always ended up with one of us throwing up- but my voice wouldn’t obey me.

‘I’m sorry.’

I took one last look at my ex-girlfriend, trying to hold myself together as she slid the promise ring I had given her for our second anniversary off her finger and held it out to me. It was over.

I showed myself out, stumbling blindly to my car. I heard her call my name but I didn’t look back; I couldn’t listen to any more excuses. I knew there was a liquor shop between here and home and that was where I was headed.

I parked crookedly on the double yellow lines outside and dazedly made my way inside. Picking up the nearest two bottles of wine I saw, I made a bee-line for the queue in front of the till. My mind was going over the argument, alternatively loving and hating Amy for the heartbreak she was putting me through. Although we went through this charade almost fortnightly, this time it felt different, more final somehow. I needed alcohol to help numb the pain, to stop me from thinking about her and what I had lost.

‘Can I help you?’ The shopkeeper smiled at me politely. ‘I’ll need some ID please.’

Unable to return the smile, I managed to croak out a reply. ‘Yeah. One sec-‘

The thick, Yorkshire accent of Amy’s boss from across the room stopped me in my tracks, making me feel as though I had been dunked into icy water. The shock turned my self-pitying into pure, unwavering anger. I heard a bottle shatter on the ground and saw myself as though from afar, stood in a pool of dark red liquid. Suddenly everything became clear- he was to blame for the fact that I lost Amy. If he hadn’t been so homophobic towards her and manipulated her into staying in her job, she wouldn’t have considered breaking up with me. We would still be together; she wouldn’t have been forced to choose between her job and our relationship.

There was another smash as the second bottle fell to the floor and I became aware of someone speaking to me.

‘Excuse me? Hey lady, are you okay?’

Slowly everything came back into focus. I blinked and looked at the overweight man who was peering up at me worriedly from over the counter. His smile had been replaced with a slight look of annoyance.

‘You’ll have to pay for those, you know. Forty pounds it is, not to mention cleaning it up! Come with me, we’ll get it sorted...’

His voice faded as I turned away from him and headed back out of the door. It didn’t occur to me at that moment that I owed the shop money; it didn’t matter if I did. Nothing mattered except getting away from the man who had hurt me and ruined my life, before I did something I would regret.

As I stepped out through the doorway, my gaze fell upon my old car and as I felt my morals begin to slip away, an idea began to form. I had read Christine; I knew cars could be used as lethal weapons. What right did Alan Henchford, Amy’s boss, have to walk around without a care in the world when he was the reason I felt this bad?

Opening my door, I sat behind the wheel of my car, waiting with patience I didn’t feel. I felt like I was possessed by an angry demon, and I was revelling in the thrill of what I was about to do. The man who had followed me out was knocking on my window with a closed fist, but I tuned out the irregular tapping and muffled shouting and focused on the shop door. Any minute now...

The door opened. My engine started. A balding, middle aged man stepped out of the shop, perspiring in the summer heat and laughing jovially with another man as they parted ways. Henchford- I would recognise him anywhere. He stopped a few metres in front of my car, looking in the other direction as he waited for a gap in the traffic. My breath hitched; my foot slammed against the accelerator.

The car shot forwards, knocking the man off his feet and onto my windscreen. The glass fractured under his weight but I kept moving, hurtling into the oncoming traffic which scattered to avoid me. In that moment I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rearview mirror, my eyes wide and almost completely black, my short hair standing on end. I braked hard and quickly, propelling the body onto the hard floor and under my wheels. I felt the car rise and imagined I heard bones snap and organs pop. I burst into laughter.

‘For Amy!’ I cried hysterically, coming to a gentle stop in the middle of the road. ‘Justice for Amy!’

For a few moments I felt nothing but sheer elation that the one obstacle between our relationship was gone. Nothing was stopping us now. I didn’t think about the fact that I had just jeopardised Amy’s job, nor that I had sullied my otherwise clean record with the police. I thought about nothing but that I had succeeded in my solo mission in eradicating Alan Henchford.

I remained in my seat, my laughs tapering off as the enormity of what I had just done hit me. I began to feel more human again, and with that came a sudden rush of emotions. Was he dead? Had I killed him? Was I a murderer? I didn’t dare to look behind me to see if he was moving but my eyes found their way to the left wing mirror. There was a crowd of people in the road, presumably surrounding the body, and I could hear sirens in the distance. I had maybe a few minutes of freedom left. I could think of only one thing to do; I picked up my mobile and dialled the familiar number.

‘Amy?’

There was silence at the end of the line. I realised I must have reached her voicemail.

‘Okay I know you’re listening, and I don’t have much time. I’ve done bad. I’m sorry. So sorry. You might get police around but-‘ I could see the first of the police cars rounding the corner. I had mere seconds left. ‘I’m sorry and I love you and please don’t-‘

My door opened and my phone was thrown to the floor as two thick arms pulled me out into the open. Handcuffs were slapped on my wrists and I was thrown against a vehicle. A burly officer rifled through my handbag, presumably looking for some ID so he could identify me. I was too drained to protest; I knew they would find out who I was, regardless of whether I played along or not.

‘Ruby Holden?’

I swallowed and forced my head to nod in reply, my neck feeling like it was set in plaster. He had found my driving license in my purse and was peering at it closely.

‘You’re under arrest. You are advised to come to the station quietly.’ The officer looked at me warily, his hard expression softening as he realised I was no longer a threat. ‘You’re in all kinds of trouble, sweetheart.’

I adjusted my position against the side of the police van, crossing and uncrossing my legs and hearing the handcuffs chink. The policeman shook his head and nodded to his colleagues, who bundled me into the back of the van and slammed the door, leaving me in total darkness. My thoughts drifted back to Amy.

Just thinking about her caused a twinge in my gut and I could almost feel the dopamine flooding my brain, forcing out all other emotions. I could picture her as she was last summer on our holiday in Croatia, when we hired a boat for a day. Snorkelling and watching the fish took up most of our time, and afterwards we flopped on the boat and relaxed with a bottle of wine. She had been smiling and joking around with me and looking back, I realised that was the last time I had seen her truly happy.

The noise of the van doors opening brought me back to the present. I blinked rapidly in the sudden sunlight, barely having time to take in my surroundings before I was jerked out and led across a stony yard.

I was taken into a small, dimly-lit room and seated opposite a stern-faced officer. My shaking hands made the handcuffs jingle merrily, sounding out of place in the drab room.

‘Ruby Holden, am I correct?’

I said nothing, suddenly fascinated by a groove in the table. I had already been identified and didn’t see the point in answering again. My mind was wandering and I wasn’t paying much attention to the speaker.

‘...murder of a Mr Alan Henchford...’

At those words, my insides turned to sleet and I heard nothing more that was said to me. A few minutes later, I was led to a holding cell like a dog going to the vets. I had blown it.