No Going Back by Casey Kelleher (black male authors TXT) 📗

He was relying on the element of surprise to really shake things up and add that extra layer of fear. He reached for the handle and brought it down slowly. The door creaked open. Staring at the silhouette on the bed through the darkness, he crept towards it. Only, as he got nearer, he realised it was a mound of clothes. There was no one here. Shit! No job meant no money, and Jay-Jay had been counting on tonight’s earn.

Switching the light on, pissed off now, he scanned the room, wondering if Shelby had been tipped off about his visit, as he noted the drawers and cupboards all left open and the pile of clothes spread out on the floor.

He saw the cup on the side and placed his hand on it. The tea inside was still warm. Which only meant one thing: Shelby Cooke had only just left.

Jay-Jay moved fast, back out of the flat, to race back down the stairwell. Because if he’d only just missed her, she might still be nearby.

6

Turning and glancing behind her again, Shelby scanned the communal gardens of the Griffin Estate, cursing herself for being so stupid as to come out so late on her own, as she cast her gaze into each far corner of the run-down courtyard. She was convinced she’d heard a movement behind her, but her mind must be playing tricks on her because there was no one there.

It had gone midnight now, and the heavy showers this evening had left the estate deserted. There was no one here but her.

Stepping down the side walkway that led out to the common, Shelby did one final sweep of the gardens before hurrying her way along the passageway. Paranoid now, she cursed Ashley’s name over and over as she walked. It was all his fault that she was out here on her own at this time of night. Getting soaked and freezing her bits off. Well, she hoped that her dad crucified him for this once she turned up at the house at this time of the morning.

She heard the noise again. Footsteps this time. Slapping loudly against the puddles behind her. You’re imagining things, she told herself. She’d worked herself up into such a rage about Ashley that now she was hearing things. Still, she turned again anyway, just to be sure. But as soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t. Because she hadn’t imagined the noise at all.

There was a man. Further back at the beginning of the walkway, gaining speed as he walked towards her. Shelby could just about make out his face, despite it being dark and his hood being pulled up tightly. She could sense the air of menace around him. Swallowing down the feeling of dread that consumed her, she turned quickly and picked up her own pace, desperate to make it to the other side of the walkway and out into the open.

As she hurried along, she told herself that it was probably nothing. A coincidence. Just another person making their way home. Hurrying like her to get out of the miserable rain.

But she couldn’t control the surge of adrenaline that rushed through her as she quickly made her way down the secluded alleyway. Nor could she ignore the feeling in the pit of her gut that told her she was in great danger.

She moved faster now, hearing the sound of feet smacking loudly against the wet pavement in the haste to keep up with her. Her pace impressive even to her. This far on in her pregnancy meant that she was naturally slower on her feet. She’d practically waddled from the lift and across the communal gardens, dragging her small suitcase behind her, subconsciously distributing the excess weight of her bowling-ball-shaped stomach that swamped her tiny frame.

But now fear had lent her speed. She scanned the length of the alleyway that still loomed ahead of her, gripped with terror that this would be the perfect place for the attacker to strike. Because they were completely alone here.

If she could just make it to the common, where it was open, vast. Someone might be around to help her.

Only the footsteps were louder now.

Whoever was following closely behind was gaining on her.

Just a few feet away. Close enough for her to hear their short, stilted pants of breath. Close enough to observe her body language and sense the fear that rippled through her, how rigid she looked now fully alert that someone was walking so closely, directly behind her.

She sensed the real danger before it happened.

Before the hand grabbed her shoulder and the rope twisted tightly around her neck in one flowing movement.

Shelby screamed out, the noise piercing and loud, echoing the length of the dimly lit alleyway. The sheer volume of the sound momentarily stunning them both.

The pause in the attack giving her a few seconds’ advantage, but instead of pulling away as her attacker had no doubt expected, she launched herself towards her assailant. Her quick movement caused the rope to slacken around her throat as she clawed at the attacker’s face with her nails.

Then she looked down and saw a knife and realised with horror the attacker’s intentions.

Reaching inside the hood, she dug her fingers into her assailant’s face, hoping that she found his eye sockets, because she needed to hurt him badly if she wanted to escape.

And she fought now with a ferocity and strength that the attacker hadn’t anticipated. Fight or flight. Live or die. For herself and her unborn child. And all the while she was still screaming. Her voice high-pitched and loud enough to have woken half the estate up.

Leaving her attacker no choice now but to punch out. To silence her. A fist connected with Shelby’s cheekbone, snapping her head backwards as she fell to the ground.

A voice shouted out from the distance.

The attack was flawed. Messed up. Not willing to get caught, the attacker ran.

7

‘Shelby! It’s the middle