Friend From the Internet
Amy Cross
Copyright 2018 Amy Cross
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, events, entities and places are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, businesses, entities or events is entirely coincidental.
Kindle edition
First published: February 2018
All alone at home one night, May suddenly hears a noise downstairs. She tells herself that she's imagining the whole thing, that nobody's trying to break into the house. And then, moments later, she meets the girl who'll change her life forever.
There's a killer on the loose in the small coastal town of Croftby. One girl has already been found murdered and everyone is on edge. So when May meets Paula, it seems natural for them to stick together. Soon, however, May starts to realize that Paula is hiding some dark secrets. And by the time the truth comes out, it might be too late for May to escape someone who knows her inside and out.
Friend From the Internet is a psychological horror thriller about two girls trying to hide from a killer, and about the dangerous obsessions that can break even the strongest of minds.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The End
Friend From the Internet
Prologue
Wincing as I get to the top of the ladder, I try to haul myself onto the supermarket's roof, only for my broken ribs to pinch tight on the right side of my chest. I can't help myself: I scream, almost losing my grip. At the last moment I manage to cling to the metal rungs, and then I make the mistake of looking down.
I'm at least fifty feet above the car park.
If I fall now, I'll have no chance.
Despite the pain in my chest, I adjust my grip and then I start once again hauling myself over the top of the ladder and onto the roof. I grit my teeth and try not to cry out as I push my way through the anti-seagull netting, and then I manage to stumble a few feet before dropping to my knees. I clutch my chest on the right side, waiting for the worst of the pain to subside, and then I look around at the bare, flat expanse up here.
And I see her.
She's over on the other side of the roof, limping badly and clutching her belly.
Getting to my feet, I briefly look down at the slate roof and I spot dark spots of liquid. In the cold gray sunlight, it's difficult to be certain, but I'm pretty sure that's blood.
“Paula!” I gasp, struggling forward despite the pain in my chest. “Wait!”
I manage a few more steps before stopping as I feel dizzy. The sensation builds for a moment, and I feel as if I'm about to topple backward. Finally I manage to steady myself, and I once again spot Paula ahead, except this time she's all the way on the far side of the roof and she's limping straight toward the edge, almost as if...
No.
“No!” I shout, stumbling after her, almost screaming. “Paula, wait! Don't do it! Stop!”
I trip and fall, landing hard on my knees, but I immediately get back up. Hurrying forward even though I feel I might collapse at any moment, I reach toward Paula, but I'm still too far away. I trip again, and this time I feel a jolt of pain in my knees as I drop down.
“Paula, stop!” I shout, as she stands at the very edge of the roof, silhouetted against the gray sky.
I can hear police sirens getting closer and closer.
“Don't do it,” I stammer, unable to find the strength to get to my feet. “I'm here. Please, Paula, don't do this.”
I wait, but for a moment she simply stands there with her back to me. Finally, however, she turns just as I'm about to cry out again, and now I see the absolute terror in her eyes. She's clutching her belly, and there's blood not only soaking through the front of her shirt but dribbling between her fingers and trickling down onto the roof. There's more blood on her face, running from one corner of her mouth and onto her chin, and she looks deathly pale.
“I know,” I tell her, hoping to stop her from jumping. “I figured it out.”
I wait, but she's still just staring at me as if she's terrified.
“I know,” I say again, trying to find the strength to get to my feet. “It's okay. I figured it all out, Paula. I finally know why you came. I know what you want. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry it took me this long.”
I pause, hoping against hope that she'll say something.
“I know who you are,” I add desperately as tears start streaming down my face. “Paula, I know who you are.”
I wait, convinced that she'll tell me everything will be alright. She's staring at me with an expression of pure fear, and the sirens are so close now they must be in the car park far below. Paula doesn't seem to care about any of that, however, and after a moment she straightens herself up a little while still clutching her belly. Then, slowly, she moves her hands away from the blood-stained patch of fabric and holds them out, and I watch with a growing sense of relief as I see a faint smile reaching her lips. It's almost as if she's about to come to me, as if she's about to walk over and embrace me and tell me everything she knows.
And then, to my horror, she falls back and plummets from the edge of the roof.
I scream.
Chapter One
Today
Standing at the bedroom window, looking out at the pitch-black street, I hold my breath as I wait for the sound to return.
There it is.
The same faint rattling sound that I first heard a couple of minutes ago. At first I told myself I was imagining things, that I was hearing things in the night that weren't really there, but the sound just keeps coming back for a few seconds at a time, and the worst part is: I think I know what it is.
I guess I'm just too scared to go and look.
The sound stops, and I stay completely still at the window. I can't see anyone out there on the street, but then again that's hardly a surprise. After all, the streetlights always get turned off at midnight, and it's not like there are lights in any of the other houses along here. At least half the other houses are rental properties, cute little fisherman cottages owned by Londoners who come down here for about two weeks every year. The rest of the time they're left empty, except for a few days here and there when tourists pay through the nose to rent them out. Honestly, this part of Croftby is like a ghost town, there's not even any -
There it is again.
The rattling sound is back, and I might be wrong but I think it sounds a little more frantic than earlier.
I wait for it to stop, the way it stopped every time before. Suddenly, however, I hear another sound added to the first. As well as the rattling, there's now a set of faint, muffled bumps. I guess I can't deny what's happening, not any more, and after a moment I turn and look past my unmade bed and over toward the door. I can see the top of the stairs from here, although there aren't any lights on
in the house. I never keep the lights on, I'm just not the kind of person who -
It's stopped.
Silence again. That's good. I know I should probably call someone for help, but I really, really don't want to cause a fuss. I mean, sure, the sound is pretty freaky, but it's still entirely possible that I'm overreacting. Or maybe there's some big-ass seagull in the street again, or a fox or a rat, or just something – anything – that's making that noise. I guess I can be pretty jumpy at the best of times, and hopefully this is just me getting all paranoid again.
There's nothing out there.
Typical May, always worrying about nothing.
I should go back to bed and try to get some more sleep, but instead I stay at the window for a few more minutes, just watching in case I spot a shadow moving in the darkness. I'm not even sure how that would work, but I can't help myself, until finally I step back and turn toward the bed, only to stop again and look over at the door. I really should go to bed, but deep down I know I'll never be able to sleep until I've double-checked that everything's okay downstairs, so I make my way over to the doorway and then I step out onto the landing, where I stop at the top of the stairs.
Everything is quiet.
Everything is still.
Everything is dark.
Okay, so far so good. No murderous rapists seem to be breaking into the house, so at least my worst fears don't seem to be coming true. Still, I want a little more reassurance, so I start making my way down the creaking staircase until I reach the bottom and step out into the living room. All the lights are off, of course, and everything seems completely normal. I head over to the front door and double-check that it's firmly closed, and then I get down onto my knees and open the letterbox. Peering out, I can just about see the house opposite, and there's no sign of anyone around. That's good, that's better, but I'm still a little nervous. After all, I definitely heard a sound and...
No.
No, I'm not doing this.
Getting to my feet, I head back toward the stairs. I am not going to spend the entire night chasing after tiny little noises that don't mean anything at all. If that noise was real earlier, it was probably caused by the house settling or the furniture creaking or something equally mundane. I'm sure I'll be able to sleep if I just focus my mind on calm, soothing thoughts and -
Suddenly I hear a clicking sound, and I turn just in time to see the back door handle turning. I freeze, and to my horror I realize I can see a figure out there, on the other side of the forest glass. I look at the keyhole and see that I left the key in after I locked up earlier, but then I spot something sliding through the gap between the door and the frame. Before I even know what to do next, there's another click and the handle turns, and the door starts to open.
Terrified, I step out of the way, so I can't be seen. Stopping next to the door that leads into the downstairs bathroom, I listen to the sound of somebody stepping into the darkened kitchen, and I think I can hear some faint muttering too. A moment later the door bumps against the wall, and then I hear it click gently shut.
I step back, and in that moment I scuff the carpet slightly, creating a faint sound.
I wait.
Silence.
Did the intruder hear me?
There's someone in the house. I've dreaded something like this for my entire life, and now all my worst fears are coming true. I actually think my life is about to flash before my eyes, and I instinctively take another step back as I force myself to focus on important things like finding my phone. Where did I leave that? Or failing my phone, I need to find my laptop so I can call someone. I take another step back, scuffing the carpet again, before stopping as I realize that I'm in danger of simply making things worse. The intruder must have heard me by now, he or she must know that I'm here, and I'm certain they'll be armed.
I should run.
I should just run to the front door and get out of here.
Sure, I'll probably be chased, but I'm not the worst runner in the world. Of course, shouting for help won't be much use since I actually think all the other houses on this street are empty holiday cottages, but it's dark out there and I could probably get away without being caught. I'm too much of a chicken, though, so instead I stay completely still and hope against hope that this person is maybe just a confused neighbor who opened the door by accident. Maybe this person is going to go away at any moment and -
Suddenly I hear the sound of a bag being dropped onto the sofa, followed by a couple of footsteps against the shag-pile carpet.
And muttering.
Somebody's muttering under their breath.
The lights are still off, but somebody is definitely walking around in the living room. And then, just as I start wondering again whether I could escape through the back door, I realize the house has fallen completely silent again. I want to believe that this means I was wrong, that somehow I imagined those noises, but I can't quite bring myself to that level of hope. Not yet. So I wait, in darkness and silence, for several minutes until finally I realize that there doesn't seem to be anyone here.
Who would break into a house and then not do anything? And it's not as if I could have been spotted, since I slipped out of the way in time.
I hesitate, before daring to lean a little closer to the door.
Suddenly a hand grabs me from behind, clamping tight over my mouth as a second hand takes hold of my arm.
“Well,” a female voice whispers into my ear, “what have we got here?”
Extract from chat log
Thursday September 6th 2012
Mayfly90330:
Everything sucks. Schools sucks. My family sucks. I just want to get away from them all forever.
AardvarkQueen310293:
Patience, Padawan. Nothing lasts forever.
Mayfly90330:
What's Parawan?
*Padawan
Oh. Cool. I see.
LOL
AardvarkQueen310293:
So what SPECIFICALLY sucked today? Or was it general all-round suckiness?
Mayfly90330:
I don't wanna bore you with my dramas.
AardvarkQueen310293:
No. Go on. Tell me.
Everything.
I mean it.
Everything.
Everything.
Chapter Two
Today
“If I let go of you, you have to promise not to scream. Do you understand? You have to promise not to scream. Can you do that?”
I wait, paralyzed by fear as the hand remains over my mouth.
“Nod your head if you understand,” the voice continues.
It's a girl.
Definitely a girl.
“Does that mean you don't understand?” she asks. “Seriously? Are you gonna make this way more difficult than it needs to be?”
I shake my head, frantically trying not to upset someone who's clearly some kind of house-breaking psychopath.
“So you understand?”
I nod.
I wait a moment, and then I feel her move her hand away from my mouth. I don't dare turn and look at her, so instead I remain completely still and quiet, and the only thing I can hear right now is her soft breath just behind my left shoulder. No matter how hard I try to stay calm, I can't help wondering whether she's got a knife or a gun, and whether she's deciding whether or not to kill me right now.
Instead, however, I hear a couple of faint footsteps, almost as if she's slowly walking away.
“Nice place,” she says finally, her voice so low and quiet that I almost can't hear her. She already sounds quite far off. “One of the nicer places round here, actually. Good use of the cramped space. I'm guessing it was recently done up?”
I start to turn and look at her, but then I don't quite dare.
Maybe she'll kill me if I see her face.
Suddenly I hear a brief knocking sound.
“Solid,” she continues, and I realize she was tapping the tiles around the fireplace. Why
she'd do that, I have no idea. “Yeah, I've definitely seen a lot, lot worse. There's a place down the road that seems like it was done up by some kind of blind lunatic. I mean, seriously, you've got to give consideration to the space and adapt your plans, right? Man, if I ever get a house like this, I'm so going to know how to make it look good. I guess maybe all this stuff I'm doing now can double as research, huh?”
I glance at the front door and try to work out whether I could get over there and escape before I'm caught. Then again, there's always the back door. Turning, I see that it's shut, but I'd only have to get out into the garden and then I could -
“Hey,” she says suddenly, right into my ear.
Startled, I turn and back away until I bump against the wall, and I see the girl silhouetted against the living room window. She's about my height, maybe an inch shorter, and her silhouette suggests shoulder-length hair. She seems to be staring straight at me, but I can't quite make out her face until suddenly she takes a step toward me and I finally see her features. She's pretty, in a kind of bookish way, and she's wearing glasses with a chip on the edge of one lens. She also has a backpack over her shoulder, and she's wearing what looks like a thick red coat with black cross-hatching all over. This definitely isn't how I imagined house-breaking murderous psychos to look, but I guess there's not exactly a uniform.
“What's your name?” she asks.
“What are you doing here?” I reply.
“Tell me your name and then I'll tell you what I'm doing here.”
I hesitate, wondering whether to tell her my real name or not, before figuring that maybe she's been staking the place out and she knows my name and she'd kill me for lying.
“May,” I stammer. “My name's May.”
“Huh.”
I wait, but she doesn't elaborate on that.
“Take anything you want,” I continue, trying very hard not to burst into tears as I hold my hands up. “Please, just take it. This is my parents' house, they're away but you can literally take anything, okay? Just don't hurt me. Please, I'm begging you, don't do anything to me.”
