Chapter Thirteen

Malory,
surprised at her own strength, pinned Ms. Dahmer against the wall. She made
sure that the unfortunate teacher was in the right cross-position before
nailing her to the wall. There were no screams, just low moans of agony, which
thrilled Malory even more than screams.

It
was a long, painful death. Malory left a rusted bucket she’d found next to the
body to collect the blood.

Then
she placed her schoolbag of spare clothes on the ground and set about her next
job.

There
was plenty left in the box of nails, and there was a huge amount of timber
stacked at one end of the barn near the hay bales.

She
began nailing pieces of timber together to form an uneven ladder up to one of
the roof beams. When it was long enough, she leant it against the roof beam and
cautiously climbed up. She climbed onto the thick roof-beam, hammer under her
arm and nails clamped between her teeth, and nailed the ladder securely onto
it.

She
then filled a bucket of water from the rusty tap on the wall.

The
water might have been rust flecked and freezing cold but at least she could
wash the blood from her hands and sponge it off of her clothes, as she’d just
remembered that she couldn’t go home in different clothes from the ones she
went out in. her mother was unlikely to notice but you could never take those
sort of risks. Malory decided to keep the spare clothes in the barn.

She
would have to go home, as even her mother would be wondering where she was.
Malory had purposely left her mobile phone at home, because of something she’d
heard on the news once about mobile-phone tracking.

When
she arrived home, she told her mum a cheery, fictitious tale about meeting up
with a few friends in the park after she’d gone to the library, and they’d lost
track of time. Her mum believed the simple but effective lie.

“It’s
good to see that you’ve started seeing your friends again. You’ve counselling
with Amaryllis so go put on something other than those t-shirts, or at least
one that isn’t damp. What on earth were you doing?”

The
question was rhetorical, so Malory just walked upstairs to her room and found a
pair of black leggings, her black leather boots and a different t-shirt. She
knew her mum hated her style but she liked it and in her opinion pleasing
yourself mattered more than pleasing others.

The End

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