The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists by Daniel Hurst (big ebook reader txt) 📗

Thinking of driving tests reminds me that I still haven’t replied to Zara’s messages since we got separated after the house party. She was expecting me to follow her and the rest of our college mates down to the big park where the party would continue, but obviously, I decided to try my luck with Rupert instead and here we are now at a different park. I felt bad for not letting my best friend know where I had gone, but I didn’t want to jinx anything with Rupert, which is almost comical now considering what has happened.

Looking down at the young man in front of me, I feel terrible for him, his family and everybody at our college who is going to be stunned by his death. I expect they will hear about it soon. It’s only a matter of time until the police are called. I expect it will be Mum who makes the call herself when she gets here. She probably just wants to make sure that she is here when the police do turn up and start to question me, so she can look after me and not allow them to trick me into saying something that might implicate me in this whole awful ordeal. As a policewoman herself, she must know all about that.

But that shouldn’t be a problem. Rupert tripped and banged his head. It was an accident. Anybody can see that.

Ignoring Mum’s advice not to touch anything, I kneel and run my hand over Rupert’s face. He could have been my first boyfriend. I almost loved him already, even though it had taken me until tonight to act on it, and from the way he had been behaving just before he fell, I was certain that he liked me too. It was only a matter of time until we kissed. I wonder what it would have felt like. I’ve fantasised about it ever since I saw him that first time in the college common room, but I bet it would have been even better in real life.

Unless...

The thought of kissing Rupert’s cold, dead lips only flashes through my mind for the briefest of moments before I shake my head and return to my feet, feeling as if I might be sick. I wish I wasn’t so wasted because at least then I would have half a chance of being able to think straight. As it is, I feel like the park is starting to spin all around me, and I’m quickly losing my grasp on reality.

Has this really happened? Am I standing over a dead body?

Am I actually alone in a park right now, waiting for my mum to turn up and call the police?

Then I feel it. My throat contracts, and a horrible taste rushes up into my mouth before I bend over and grimace as the vomit bursts out from my insides. It’s violent, and tears stream in my eyes as I fight for breath in between heaves. I haven’t been sick in years. I can barely remember the last time that I was. I must have been about ten. I ate something that didn’t agree with me. I think it was chicken curry, but I could be wrong. All I do remember is that I spent most of that night bent over the toilet in the bathroom with Mum holding my hair back as I spewed up into the bowl. Fortunately, this wave of nausea is over much quicker than that time, and I put my hand over my mouth as I feel the burning sensation of the stomach acid ravaging my larynx.

But then I make the mistake of turning around and looking at Rupert’s body again, and I feel like I could be sick a second time. Either that or I could start crying, although I feel like the amount of alcohol in my system is somehow preventing me from doing that. I feel wired rather than distraught, but I know that will change just as soon as I sober up and the reality of this situation hits me like the tidal wave that it is. There’s no doubt it is going to be the hangover from hell.

I check my phone again and see that it has been five minutes. Mum is still not here. I guess she hasn’t been speeding. I wish I had some of her sanity. I feel like the park is starting to spin all over again, and this time, I have no choice but to drop down to the floor to try and control it. But that doesn’t do the trick, and now I’m lying down on the cold, damp grass, face to face with Rupert’s twisted and dead expression.

He looks awful.

I feel awful.

But all I can do is hope that Mum knows of a way to make this all better.

7

HEATHER

It’s not easy sticking to the speed limit when I know my daughter is in such peril, but it’s vital that I do. If I have learnt one thing in my life, it’s that the simplest of mistakes can lead to the greatest problems, so there is no way that I’m going to tempt fate now by making the silly mistake of driving too fast.

All it would take for this night to get even worse would be for a police officer to see my speeding car and pull me over. Not only would that delay me in getting to Chloe, but the officer would want to know where I was going and why I was in such a rush. I could hardly tell them the truth that I am responding to a desperate phone call from my daughter in which she has told me one of her college friends has just died, and she is standing beside the body. Somehow, I don’t think that answer would go down well. There’s also the fact that I have consumed a bottle of wine this evening, and while I don’t