Close Your Eyes: A gripping psychological thriller with a killer twist!. Darren O’Sullivan
large one dragged me off the bed by my ankle and dropped me like a ragdoll. My instincts taking over to protect my stomach as I landed meant I hit my head on the carpeted floor. I saw Sean, dazed from waking to the horror trying to fight the other one. He was hit hard and toppled over the side of the bed, the small one falling on him as the fight continued. I also tried to fight, not to escape but to get into Tom’s room and protect my baby. But the man was too strong. He pinned me down and pressed his knee into my back, his weight crushing my ribs. He was forcing my hands behind and upwards with such violence I thought my shoulders were going to come out of their sockets. I could feel tendons pull and I felt a muscle, one in my rotator cuff, tear. I wanted to cry out, instead I bit my lip to muffle my scream. I didn’t know what was happening, or why it was happening to us and I hoped Tom hadn’t woken. I pleaded he wouldn’t hear the noise of our struggle and come into the room. I prayed they didn’t know he was there. I held my breath until the pain died down before mustering the energy to escape and get to Tom, but I couldn’t move, my captor was too heavy.
Then I saw him, my child in the arms of the smaller man. There was no sign of Sean. With my face pressed into the floor I strained my eyes to look at my baby. His arms were swinging by his side, his legs limp, he looked asleep but there was no way he would sleep through what was happening. For a moment I thought he was dead but then I saw his chest rise and fall. I tried to shout for help, but a wide hand came from behind and pinned my voice in.
‘If you make a noise, it won’t end well,’ he said, his voice deep and commanding.
I nodded helplessly and, as he hauled me towards the stairs, I looked for Sean, but I couldn’t find him. The man dragged me downstairs, the tops of my feet banging on each step as he did. I tried to beg for them not to hurt Tom. Arms bound behind me, I was thrown into the back of a van. Tom was already laid down inside and I scrambled to him. I tried to wake him by rocking his body with my head, but he was unresponsive.
‘What have you done to him?’
‘He’s been sedated, he’ll wake up soon.’
The van then drove off calmly, like nothing happened. I struggled to see anything; the darkness around me complete. The only thing I could hear was the hum of the engine and the sound of my short and sharp breathing which I was fighting to control.
My hands and lips tingled, and I knew that if I didn’t calm down I would soon pass out. I shook my head, shook away my fear, taking control of my jagged breathing, trying to focus on details. First there was a sharp left out of my road, then after about 30 seconds a sharp right, then uphill. I could picture Waitrose on my right. Panic began to creep in as I knew we were driving out of Stamford.
The van drove for about two more minutes in a straight line. Then it turned right and slowly bent back round to the left before the road became louder as we merged with the A1 southbound. From there we could go anywhere. We were on the A1 for what felt like forever in the dark, before coming off again, first left, then right then over a roundabout.
After some time – I wasn’t sure how much – we stopped and I heard them talking, three voices, arguing in hushed tones. A door opened and slammed shut. Then, the back door swung open and a man who wasn’t either of the two I had seen before stepped in. He took a photo of me, the flash blinding me as he did. He caught my eye, I couldn’t see his face, but I knew he was smiling under his balaclava as he closed the door. The slam woke Tom suddenly. He looked at me and I knew, from years of being a nurse, that the drugs still had hold.
‘Mummy?’
‘It’s okay, darling, everything is okay.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘We are on a little trip, that’s all.’
‘I don’t feel very well.’
‘You’ve had a really deep sleep, you’ll feel better soon. Come here, baby, come lay on Mummy.’
Thomas lay on my lap, closing his eyes again. I wanted to stroke his hair, but couldn’t free my hands to do so and it broke my heart, forcing me to hold my breath because I knew I would cry if I did anything else. And I couldn’t cry.
As the van drove, streetlights lit the inside through a tinted vent in the roof. A beam of light would quickly flood through like a Mexican wave. I looked towards Tom and when I could see, I noticed his breathing became deeper, his head heavier as he drifted back into a sedative-filled dream. I didn’t know why we had been taken, but I knew that I couldn’t let this impact who he became in the future.
Eventually, through the combination of the light sweeping in and the adrenaline wearing off, I fell asleep too, my head resting on Tom’s shoulder. I don’t know how long I was asleep for, but I was woken by wide hands grabbing me, ripping the tape from my wrist, making me yelp. I was told to get up and walk. My right leg was entirely numb, making the simple task almost impossible to do. I picked Tom up, my hands hurting as the blood rushed back into them, and moved as fast as I could, dragging my dead limb behind me. Tom woke for a moment, and I saw one of the men start to twitch. What if he shouted out, called for help. Tom didn’t know the rules. I calmly told him everything was okay and that I was carrying him to bed. As I spoke, I kept my eye firmly on the biggest of the three men who were escorting us wherever we were going. I told him without speaking that I would keep Tom quiet so he didn’t need to.
‘Nearly in bed, darling,’ I repeated, to ensure he was content and asleep again. I wondered how long I could lie to him about everything being okay before he realized it wasn’t. The man pushed us along the side of an abandoned building towards a half-open metal shutter. A small light was coming from within.
‘In here,’ he said shoving me towards the opening. The shutter was like the mouth of a monster that was about to swallow us whole.
Daniel
Stamford
2nd January 2018, 12.12 a.m.
I grabbed my car keys, and, still in my pyjamas, I climbed into my car. I rang Rachael’s mobile, my heart pounding so hard I was sure at any moment something would rupture and kill me on the spot. It didn’t even ring, instead going straight to her voicemail.
‘Hey, this is Rachael.’
‘And Tom.’
‘We can’t get to the phone right now so leave a message after the beep.’
I hung up the phone and tried to call Sean’s mobile. It too was switched off. Hearing his voicemail kick in I swore loudly and pressed hard on the accelerator, my body and mind on autopilot. I nearly lost control a few times, I couldn’t feel my hands properly. My fight or flight had kicked in and all I could think of was not letting the severity of the situation take over. If I fell apart, like I thought I was going to at any moment, I couldn’t help Rachael. I couldn’t save my son. Not being able to go to the police, I knew I needed to get to their house. The man on the phone’s last words echoed in my mind as I made my way. I desperately tried to quieten the voice, but I was failing.
‘If you call the police, the next time you’ll see your family is on the news when they’re dragging their bodies out of a river.’
It was like a broken record, over and over, and hearing it meant I could see nothing but an image of Rachael face down drifting in a current, Thomas close to her, their hands almost touching as they were carried away into the darkness. I needed to remove it from my mind. Slamming on the brakes, the car skidded before coming to a stop. I got out, staggered around the car and heaved beside the passenger door, and still the image held strong.
I crumpled, clutched my head in my hands, then hit the side of my head with a clenched fist and screamed at the floor, my lips touching the frozen ground until the image, and his words, were gone. The outburst momentarily lifted my adrenaline-fuelled thoughts enough to know that I needed to find something hiding in the grey parts of my mind. I need to find something that could give me a clue as to where to start. I had something of