A Room Full of Killers - Michael Wood (motivational books to read txt) 📗

drooling. Darryl asked me to take photos, and that pervert Steven asked me to set up a webcam. I did like the idea of filming it to re-watch, but I doubted Natalie would be up for that. Not yet, anyway.

That Saturday, we went to the cinema and watched Pompeii. It was a shit film, but the effects were good. After, we went back to mine. I ordered us a pizza and we got comfortable on the sofa.

We kissed and it started to get heavy. I unbuttoned her top and lifted up her skirt. She had an amazing arse: small, firm, I wanted to bite it. She jumped up when I tried to put my finger inside her. She didn’t like that. I’d seen it in a porno and it looked hot, but, each to their own. After a while, I took her hand and led her upstairs.

I’d spent all morning cleaning my room – something I hadn’t done for years. I took down the footy posters and hid all my magazines in Mum’s room. It looked nice. It looked grown-up.

We were on my bed. Natalie’s top was undone, her skirt was off, and I was just in my boxers when she jumped up and said she couldn’t do this. She said she thought she was ready but she obviously wasn’t. She started getting dressed. She started talking about wanting her first time to be special again. I told her it was; we were in a bed for fuck’s sake. I begged her not to leave and told her that I really fancied her. She had to stay. Then I accidently let slip that I’d told the lads we were doing it that night. She was well pissed about that.

Natalie Barker was hot. Everyone knew that. I wasn’t keeping it to myself that we were going all the way. She went downstairs saying all kinds of things under her breath. She was fuming. She was at the bottom putting on her coat, while I was still struggling into my jeans.

She ran out of the house, and I eventually caught up with her at the bottom of the road at the bus stop. It was gone eleven so the buses had stopped running. I invited her to come back with me. I’d let her sleep in my mum’s room and I’d stay in mine. We didn’t have to do anything if she didn’t want to.

She started calling me all sorts then, a pervert, a deviant – other words I’d never even heard before. She said I was only after one thing. I knew the score. She was a posh tart from London and I was her bit of rough. I bet her and her snobby friends were laughing at me behind my back. When we got to bed she realized she’d gone too far and tried to back out. Well, you know something, you can’t treat people like that.

She stormed off and headed for the park to go home. I followed her. I kept calling her name, telling her to come back, to not turn away from me while I was talking, but she ignored me. I caught up with her, grabbed her arm and dragged her into the woods. What did she expect from me? I was a bit of rough; after all, I was just acting how she expected.

She kicked me on the shin. I pulled her again, and she tried to kick me in the balls but I jumped back. I slapped her with the back of my hand. She looked shocked. She tried to run but I grabbed her again and slammed her hard against a tree. She banged her head and was a bit dazed. I threw her down onto the ground and climbed on top of her. She struggled but I was stronger. I pulled her skirt up and tore her pants off. She started yelling but it was obvious she wanted it. I know she did.

I pulled my jeans down and realized my mobile was in my pocket. She couldn’t tease me like this and expect me to just let her go. The whole school were going to know she liked it rough in the woods. She screamed so I put my hand over her mouth to shut up her. It was actually quite difficult concentrating on filming her and shagging her at the same time. It didn’t take long, and she soon relaxed into it as she stopped moving. It was only when I’d come inside her that I noticed how hard I’d had my hand over her mouth and nose. She’d stopped breathing. Shit! She lay there; her angelic face was cut and bruised. Shit! Shit! FUCK!

I was hoping the scabs on my hands would have gone by the time the police came round, but they hadn’t. If that old bloke hadn’t been walking his Alsatian through the woods she wouldn’t have been found straightaway. I had to confess. I had no choice. My DNA would be all over her. I genuinely loved Natalie but she really shouldn’t have teased me like that. No girl should ever tease like that.

TWENTY-FOUR

‘Mr Percival?’

‘Call me Fred.’

Sian Mills and Rory Fleming sat down opposite the six foot three tutor in the staffroom of Starling House. He had a permanent smile on his face that was halfway between a grin and a smirk. Sian took an instant dislike to him, which was unusual for her.

Fred Percival was in his mid-fifties. He was rapidly balding and his thinning dark hair was greased to his scalp. His face was as shiny as his polyester suit.

‘What’s your role here at Starling House?’

‘I’m the tutor. I’m no professor, obviously, but I teach basic literacy and numeracy skills.’

‘Do you live on the premises?’

‘Monday to Thursday. I go home on Friday afternoon and come back again on Monday morning.’

‘Where is home for you?’ Rory asked, looking up from his notepad.

‘Birmingham,’ he said, purposely thickening his Brummie accent.

‘It’s a long way to come for