An Impossible Dilemma: A Psychological Thriller Novel, page 7
He undid his top button and holding onto the front of the waistband, he pulled each side of the denim apart. The zip slid down.
The tip of his angry penis poked above the waistband of his boxer shorts. But even worse than that—I could smell the dirty, cheesy thing.
It felt surreal, as though time had stopped. My raspy breath and thudding heartbeat filled my ears.
He pushed his underwear down further and his penis sprang free and hit my chest with a wet thud.
I squealed again, tears pouring from my eyes.
He laughed. “Kiss it.”
“Please, Shane …” My hands pushed at his bony hips.
“Kiss it, bitch!” he grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head towards the glistening, purple tip.
My tightly shut lips brushed against the disgusting, sticky head of his penis.
“Again,” he said, thrusting towards my mouth.
I pushed at his hips with all my might, yet my strength had gone. My arms shook with sheer effort. I considered biting his dick, but the thought made me gag.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. My eyes squeezed tight shut, trying to block out what was happening.
“Suck it—suck it!” his voice came out in short gasps. I thought he was close to ejaculating. “Suck it!” He pulled my hair so hard I heard it snapping out at the roots. “Suck!”
My lips parted and he thrust himself into my mouth. My garbled cries seemed to excite him all the more as he bucked his pelvis towards my face. I retched at every thrust.
Suddenly he pulled himself away, grabbing me by the hair again he dragged me into a horizontal position on the sofa, tearing the flimsy straps of my slip. He ripped the rest away in one tug.
“Shane!” My voice close to hysterical.
“Delicious,” he said as he glanced at my naked body. “A bit skinny, but fucking delicious.”
He put one leg up on the seat and stared down at me. Gripping the shaft of his penis, he yanked at it several times, his testicles bouncing obscenely above my face.
I thought I might pass out. The room spun and sounds echoed reminding me of the swimming baths I went to as a kid in Manchester.
He put his leg down. His jeans were bunched around the other ankle and he kicked them off. Then he grabbed at my breast and squeezed it roughly before climbing on top of me, shoving his knee in between my legs.
I could feel him pushing his penis at the top of my thighs.
He re-positioned himself and found his target.
I cried out loud, biting my bottom lip as he thrust himself into me.
Hardly breathing, eyes shut tight. I couldn’t escape, so I would have to let him finish, which by the sound of his grunts, shouldn’t be too far off.
His thrusts became more frenzied and erratic. He ejaculated half inside me and the rest in a puddle on my stomach.
A white hot pain tore through me as Shane sunk his teeth into my breast. I couldn’t hold back any longer, the intense pain was too much to bear and a scream belted from me.
All of a sudden the snug door burst open and Frank stood in the doorway with his walking stick raised above his head. He moved faster than I’d seen him do in years. The stick connected with Shane’s head with a deafening crack.
Shane didn’t seem at all fazed by the attack.
He pushed himself off me in one fluid movement and backhanded Frank, sending him flying to the ground.
Frank didn’t move. He lay on his back with half of his broken walking stick still in his hand.
I looked for the other half and found it on the floor at my feet.
Shane jumped on top of Frank blocking my view. All I could see was Shane’s bony, bare arse in the air, thin legs ending with grimy white socks and grubby trainers. But the sound was unmistakable as Shane’s fists made sickening contact with Frank’s face.
Without thinking, I snatched up the jagged, wooden stick and launched myself towards them, thrusting the tip into the middle of Shane’s back with all my might.
Shane let out a blood-curdling scream.
He tried to reach behind his back as he writhed around on the floor, but to no avail. His dark grey t-shirt had an even darker stain surrounding the protruding stick.
I grabbed hold of his hair and pulled him backwards. The stick thrust even deeper into him as he hit the polished wooden floor.
On automatic pilot now, I ran to the kitchen and got a packet of cable ties from under the sink, a towel and a dining chair.
When I returned, both Frank and Shane were as I’d left them.
Tapping into an energy source I didn’t know I possessed, I had Shane tied like a trussed chicken and fastened to the chair within minutes. The wet gurgling sounds coming from him were terrible—it was obvious to me the stick had punctured his lung. Blood dripped noisily, landing in a puddle on the floorboards.
I stuffed the towel around the wound as much as I could, but he was losing a lot of blood.
I rolled the hand-knotted wool rug to the side of the room before the blood could reach it.
Satisfied I’d tied Shane properly, I ran to Frank’s side.
“Frank?”
His eyes flickered but stayed shut.
“Frank, can you hear me? I’m going to call an ambulance.”
“No, lass, no ambulance,” he said in a whisper. His eyes flickering open. A small trickle of blood ran from his mouth.
“Are you all right? Where are you hurt?” I said, my teeth chattering.
He shook his head and tried to lift himself up onto his good elbow.
“Help me up, lass,” he said, seeming a little more with it.
“Here you go, after three. “One—two—three.” I’d forgotten how solid he was. We managed to get him up and sitting on the sofa.
“Get dressed, lass,” Frank said softly.
I looked down and crossed my arms about my nakedness before I sped from the room to the laundry where I threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of jogging bottoms. I winced as the fabric touched the bite mark on my chest.
When I got back Shane’s mouth was moving, as if having a full on conversation without sound. I couldn’t understand a word of it.
“I’d better call an ambulance, Frank. Not that I want to. The bastard doesn’t deserve anyone saving him.” I couldn’t stand still my legs shook so much and my voice warbled. “If you hadn’t come in, God knows what he’d have gone on to do.” I turned to leave. “I’ll call the police too.”
“Wait,” Frank said. He was lying back on the sofa, trying to catch his breath. “How old is he?”
“I dunno, nineteen, twenty, but he won’t see twenty-one if I don’t do something quick.”
“Can you fix him?”
I paused in the doorway. “Eh?”
“Can you fix his wound, temporarily?”
“Yes, but he still needs a doctor.”
“No, you don’t get me. If you can fix him for now, he’s the right age … You know … to be a donor.”
His intention hit home. I considered what he was saying for a split second. “We can’t do that, Frank. It’ll kill him. We’ll be locked up for life.”
“Who would know? We could feed him to the pigs, or even make use of Jon’s offal pit.”
“Although I’m tempted at the prospect of turning this sack of shit into pig chow, I’m not a murderer, and neither are you,” I said, my voice sharp and to the point.
“What’s our alternative?”
“Call the ambulance and the police. Like I was going to.” I shrugged.
“Think about it for a second, lass. What will happen if you call the police?”
I shook my head.
“I’ll tell you, shall I? They’ll get him fixed up and he’ll claim damages, probably bankrupt you if this country’s law system is anything to go by. You‘ll be charged with attempted murder and he’ll get off scot free with a pocket full of your cash. And Emily will still die.”
His last sentence hit me like a smack in the face. I plonked down beside him on the sofa, my eyes glued to Shane. Gurgling noises came from his chest, and although he looked unconscious with his head lolling backwards, his mouth still moved.
“Can you do the transplant? Frank grasped my wrist with both of his hands, his eyes large and hopeful.
“If we got him to the clinic, perhaps, but I’d struggle alone,” I said quietly.
“You’re not alone, I can help. What about putting it into Emily safely?”
I nodded, “That’s the easy part. It’s just an injection.”
I couldn’t believe we were really discussing this.
Shane’s breathing was becoming even shallower.
“He needs help now or he’ll be dead.”
I tipped Shane’s chair back onto two legs and dragged him down the hallway to the front door, leaving a trail of blood behind me. I searched for my car keys, remembering Stephanie had taken them.
“Fuck!” I snatched the keys to Jon’s truck from the key-hook beside the front door but realised the truck was jammed in behind my car. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuckity, fucking fuck!”
Frank came down the hallway towards me. He seemed more unsteady on his feet than normal. “Calm down, lass. What’s wrong?”
“I need to get him to the clinic but Steph took my car keys.”
“Get the wheelbarrow. That’ll have to do.”
Chapter 10
It took sheer grunt and determination to get Shane and the wheelbarrow across the path and down the driveway to the clinic.
I unlocked the door and switched on the light.
Shane was unconscious. Blood trickled from his nose, and his face had a blue tinge.
I needed to work quickly. It didn’t take a genius to work out he was in a bad way. I had to remove the stick and insert a chest tube to drain off the blood from his injured lung.
Frank shuffled into the clinic.
I screamed and dropped a stainless steel dish to the floor making a loud crash. “Oh, Frank, you made me jump.”
“You said you needed help. I may not be the best, but I’m better than no one.”
“I need to get him up onto the table to remove the stick. It’s in quite far, so that may be easier said than done.”
“Undo him from the chair first,” Frank said.
I found a pair of snips in the tool box Jon had left under the counter, and cut the ties.
Shane’s arms flopped to the floor, and he almost fell off the wheelbarrow. The gurgling sound coming from his chest sounded like someone blowing bubbles down a straw.
My whole body was shaking. Frank took hold of my upper arms and shook me roughly.
“Calm down, lass. Think of Emily.”
“Okay.” I nodded. The mention of Emily had the desired effect, and I took several deep breaths.
“Frank, we need to get him up but he’s heavy. Any ideas?” I held my breath, trying to prepare myself for what we were about to do. The adrenalin had kicked in and the professional in me was finally in control.
“If you help me lift his top half as far as we can, I can hold him in place while you grab his legs,” Frank suggested.
“Okay, let’s do it then. We’re running out of time.”
We managed to get Shane up onto the table. Frank’s good arm was strong. I doubt I’d have got him up on my own.
“Right, I need to get a few things and then can you hold him while I try to pull the stick out?” I said.
He nodded.
I gathered all the equipment I needed, plus a stack of towels. “Okay, are you ready?” I glanced at him, taking a deep breath.
Another nod.
“When it comes out there’ll be a lot of blood so be ready, and shove these towels onto the wound right away.” I placed the towels on the table beside Shane.
The broken stick splintered as I tried to grip it.
Frank found some adjustable pliers in the tool box and handed them to me. “Try these.”
The stick came away with a sickening squelch and Frank rammed a towel into the hole.
“Press down hard while I organize myself,” I said.
Shane began to groan.
“Oh shit, Frank. If he wakes up, we’re screwed.”
“Can’t you drug him?” Frank asked.
“We’re already up to our eyeballs in trouble, Frank.”
“Exactly, so what difference will a bit more make? Better to be hung for a sheep than a lamb,” he said, in a matter–of-fact tone.
I stopped and glanced around at him. His eyes were more alive than they had been in ages, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think he was actually enjoying this.
However, Frank was right. If Shane woke up, things could get a whole lot worse. A little bit of anaesthetic would have to do. “What would you say he weighs?”
“He’s a big lad, but more wiry than heavy. I’d say around ten stone, maybe eleven.”
I quickly worked out the quantities and prepared the medication.
“Okay, let’s hope this is right. If not, it could kill him anyway.”
“It’ll work. This is the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. I think Jon sent him our way.”
Immediate memories of Shane shoving his dirty penis into my mouth flashed through my mind, followed by the feelings of disgust I’d had when he violated my body. I shuddered. Wanted nothing more than to sink into a steaming hot bath and scrub away every last trace of Shane.
I didn’t think Jon would send him to me, not like this.
But if it worked, if it helped get Emily well again, every disgusting second would have been worth it.
After I applied the chest drain, Shane’s breathing steadied. My next step was to remove the Proteum. I’d already studied the location of the Proteus.
Shane lay face down on the operating table. I shaved a small area at the base of his skull and cut out a square of skin with a scalpel. Then with a tiny, high-powered hand drill I made a circle of holes and cut through the remaining bone with a fine wire saw, making a bone flap.
The proteus gland was easy to find. I inserted a needle and drew off the yellowish blood-tinged fluid, ten mil in total. I found it hard to believe this little bit of gunk could be the difference between life and death for my gorgeous girl. And for Shane, too.
I had to decide what to do with him next. We had two choices. To monitor him until he died naturally—which could take up to twenty-four hours—or administer a euthanasia solution.
My priority was to get this liquid gold into my baby, as I didn’t know how long it would be viable. “Frank, I’m going over to the house. I might need you. Can you follow me?”
“What about him?” Frank nodded at Shane, who already looked dead to me.
“He shouldn’t be a problem for a little while. We’ll be back in no time.”
I raced from the clinic, praying Shane hadn’t got any other terrible disease such as HIV. But it was too late to concern myself with all that now. This whole thing was a huge gamble, but less of a gamble than doing nothing.
Emily didn’t stir as I entered the bedroom.
I stroked her hair. “Mummy has to give you some medicine, my baby. You’ll be okay,” I whispered as I took out the syringe and attached a clean needle. Using a surgical wipe, I cleaned inside of Emily’s arm before inserting the needle into her vein.
She made a tiny sound and my heart contracted, but she went straight back off to sleep. I said a quick prayer before injecting the fluid.
I was still sitting in the same position on the floor next to the bed when Frank entered. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
I shook my head, putting my fingers to my lips as I got up, my legs threatening to buckle under me.
“She didn’t even wake up.” I sobbed as I fell into Frank’s arms.
His breath caught in his throat. “I thought you were about to tell me you’d changed your mind,” he whispered.
I tipped my head towards the hallway and walked out of the room, taking one last look at Emily before closing the door. “I hope we’ve done the right thing. What if it doesn’t work? Makes her ill even? I may be a vet, but there’s a world of difference between treating animals and treating humans.” I had palpitations in my chest as the enormity of what we’d just done suddenly hit me. Bile rose into my mouth, and I raced to the bathroom, falling to the side of the toilet as my stomach contents splattered into the bowl.
Frank stepped into the room behind me and rubbed my back. “Are you okay?”
I nodded, wiping my mouth on my sleeve.
“It can’t hurt her, lass, and besides, this is her only hope.”
“But now we have to deal with Shane. In fact I’d better get back to the clinic,” I said, pulling myself to my feet and linking my arm through Frank’s, drawing strength from him.
“What do you think we should do?” he asked.
“Maybe a lethal injection is the kindest way,” I said. “I know he’s a nasty piece of work, but I hate the thought of causing any unnecessary suffering.”
Even this would still haunt me. I had a rule to never euthanize pets in the clinic if they were fit and well. It amazed me how many people refused to rehome unwanted pets. They’d prefer to put them to sleep rather than suffer the distress of losing their owner and their home. I would try to convince them that lots of pets are rehomed successfully, but if I still couldn’t sway their decision, I’d send them to the opposition to do the dastardly deed.
I found it hard enough to put a sick and distressed pet to sleep. It always tore my heart out to have to administer that fatal shot. However, in Shane’s case, one fatal shot was better than leaving him to die naturally. There was no telling how painful or drawn-out that would be.
Frank nodded. “You go on ahead and I’ll follow.”
“No, get your wheelchair, and we’ll go together. You must be worn out.” I linked my arm through his.
Frank started laughing halfway down the stairs, and I thought maybe he’d gone mad. He braced himself against the wall to prevent him toppling down the stairs.
“What are you laughing at?” I asked, shaking my head, concerned I would have to cope alone if he’d lost his marbles.
“I didn’t think to use the wheelchair earlier. Instead, I suggested the wheelbarrow and the next thing you had him strapped to the wheelbarrow and pegging it down the path,” he howled.
