Mirror Man by Jacques Kat (ereader for textbooks txt) 📗

The Suit as he rubbed his smooth face and glanced frantically around the room. There wasn’t one hint of stubble on his face, and his hair was perfect, not a strand out of place. Now I was beginning to think I’d given him the entirely wrong nickname. I wanted to escape from here into my head and play my records, but I had to focus. Now wasn’t the time for my childhood escape methods.

I peered down at my feet and spotted Mr Phillips’s pocket watch peeking out from under the chair. I could only look at my feet, otherwise, I would see Mr Phillips, and I didn’t want to see him in the state I knew he was in.

‘Can I tie my trainers?’ I asked The Suit.

‘What?’ He turned to look at me but never bothered to examine my feet. ‘What a flipping question. Do you understand the gravity of the situation you’re in?’ he asked.

‘Not really,’ I said. It was true I didn’t have a clue. I was sure whatever I did or said would be wrong for the situation I’d found myself in.

‘Well, blow me,’ he said. ‘Go on, tie your bloody shoes, you retard.’

I bent down and pretended to tie my laces, though they were, of course, already fastened. Instead, I scooped up the watch and deposited it in my pocket before he could see.

The Suit bent down to Mr Phillips again. ‘Where are the eggs, Claude?’ he asked.

Mr Phillips groaned louder, then spluttered.

‘You’ll tell me, Claude, or I’m going to hurt this retard assistant over here.’ He looked back at me with his creepy smile, and suddenly tears were stinging my eyes. I hated being called that. The kids at school used to call me it before I stopped going. I wasn’t a retard. I’d looked it up in the dictionary. There was no way a retard would be able to fix clocks like I can.

The Suit started checking Mr Phillips’s pockets; I knew he wouldn’t find anything, as he had been doing that when I first came in.

I had to get away from here. The nearest exit was the backdoor. I knew I could make it there before the front, but could I leave Mr Phillips here with this man? And if I left, what if he caught up with me? What would he do?

What about Tina, Pete, and the baby?

Grandad, Fred, and Mum?

It was all too much to handle.

My head pounded as though it would explode.

My breaths came thick and fast.

I saw my dad’s and Daniel’s glassy eyes.

Then—

Chapter Fourteen

When I came to, I was slumped on the floor, my knuckles were bloody and sore, and The Suit had vanished.

I scrambled over to Mr Phillips. The colour had drained from his face, his chest had stopped rising, and I’d seen that same glassy stare before. The shop had been ransacked, probably in The Suit’s search for the safe keys and the guns.

I checked the safes. They were still locked.

I stood and turned in a slow circle, taking everything in.

Then I ran.

I ran out through the back door, and I ran through the alleys and back streets. I could hear heavy keys jostling in my jacket pocket. I pulled them out. They belonged to Mr Phillips. I shoved them back in my pocket as I carried on running, wondering how they had ended up in my possession.

I didn’t stop running until I came to the community centre. I went and hid behind the bins at the back and sat on a dry patch in the corner.

I couldn’t go home.

I couldn’t go back to work.

Mr Phillips was dead, murdered by The Suit; the man who had announced in my dreams that he was the Mirror Man, not me.

What if they blamed it on me?

Why did my hands hurt? It felt as though I’d punched a wall over and over.

I brought my knees up to my chest and slowly rocked back and forth.

I had nowhere to go.

What if The Suit came back? For the guns, or for me?

Would he seek me out and kill me too?

When I thought about it, it wasn’t really a question of would he, but when would he?

I shouldn’t have left.

I should never have run.

I’d been wrong about myself. I wasn’t a man at all. A man would never have run away. I was still a kid in a man-sized body.

And I was in big trouble now.

Chapter Fifteen

I hid in that position until dark; rocking back and forth, jumping at every noise, and trying to make myself disappear from existence.

When I was younger, Mum said I sometimes had disruptive outbursts where I would sweep the ornaments off the mantlepiece or paint the neighbour’s dog with green wall paint. I never remembered doing any of these things—especially to the dog. What had I been thinking? It was as though I blacked out from the world for a short period of time, and when I came back, Mum would be cleaning up the mess. I would get a clip round the ear after every incident, even though I couldn’t recall what had happened. Luckily, I hadn’t had one of those blackouts for an exceptionally long time—until today, that is.

I looked at my knuckles.

But what had I done?

I checked my watch; it showed ten to ten.

I’d missed my tea, and I was cold, tired, and dirty.

Would Grandad and Mum be looking for me? Would they even care I hadn’t come home yet? Did they know about poor Mr Phillips? Would Mum think I’d killed him?

My mind threw dozens of questions at me, making me feel faint and dizzy like I had in the shop. I shook it away. I had to get up off the floor; my backside was numb, and I had to get inside. I wouldn’t be safe here if The Suit came back.

The only place I could go was Fred’s. I wouldn’t tell him anything, not yet. Not until I knew how much trouble I was in.

I made my way