Keri Beevis [Beevis - Dying to Tell

Lust. Control. Fear. Silence.

T he Bishop stared at the body on the floor, emotions bubbling inside him. He hadnt meant to kill her. It had been an accident.

They had been kissing, things were getting heated, and he had been caught up in the moment. One second she was in his arms, her hands eagerly slipping into his jeans; the next she was motionless on the ground, wide eyes staring up at him, but no longer seeing.

He nudged her shoulder with the toe of his trainer, hoping she would move, knowing she wouldnt, and dread coiled in his belly.

It had been an accident, but he knew they wouldnt believe him.

He shouldnt have brought her there. The move had been reckless and rationality replaced with need. She had offered herself to him and he had known better, but still he had taken. He hadnt meant for things to end this way.

Silence. Frustration. Panic. Anger.

She had brought this upon herself. He wasnt to blame.

They would say it was his fault though. He could already feel the accusation in the weight of their stares; knew they would judge him and find him guilty without taking time to understand what had really happened. Like before.

He had too much to lose.

It had been an unfortunate accident, a mistake, and he had to take care of it.

No-one could know what had happened. She would have to disappear.

A door opened behind him.

He had been so caught up in the moment he had forgotten that they werent alone.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs and he heard a sharp intake of breath.

Oh my God. What have you done?

He stepped back numbly as the girl rushed into the room, watching her futile efforts to resuscitate the one already dead.

They couldnt find out. No-one could ever know.

They would never believe him. He had to make this problem go away.

Moving quietly up the stairs, he locked the door and pocketed the key.

The girl glanced up having heard the key twist in the lock, her anger turning to fear. Her eyes were wide, her pretty mouth trembling, stirring something deep inside him.

Anger. Regret. Acceptance. Lust.

It all came full circle.

Im sorry, he whispered. But I cant let you go.

F or Lila Amberson, the past week had been defined by two moments. In the first she had been a passenger in Mark Sutherlands car, out on her first date in over four years, the next she had awoken in hospital with tubes poking out of her body, her left leg elevated in a sling, and her brother Elliot sitting beside her, his nose buried in a comic book.

Lila had tried to speak, but her throat was so dry she barely managed a feeble croak. Elliots head had shot up, eyes widening, and the comic book had fallen to the floor. She wanted water, tried to tell him again, but he had already rushed from the room.

He returned moments later with a doctor and two nurses, who had poked and prodded at her, flashed lights in her eyes. Lila had tried to tell them to stop, frustration and fear knotting as she attempted to comprehend where she was and what was happening to her. Eventually the doctor addressed her directly.

Can you hear me, Lila? If you can, please nod or blink twice for me.

Ignoring the second part, Lila tried to answer him. Damn it, why wasnt her voice working?

Dont try to talk yet. Just a simple nod or a double blink.

She focussed on his eyes; grey irises that were strikingly pale against his skin, managed to move her head slightly in a nod. What was happening? She looked for Elliot, saw him standing towards the back of the room.

Lila, youre in hospital.

But why, she wanted to scream.

The doctor was addressing her again, his voice reminded her of Hugh Grant. He waited until he had her attention before continuing. You were in a car accident and youve been unconscious.

Car accident?

She remembered being on the road in Marks car. Their date was over and it hadnt gone well. He was taking her home, but she didnt remember getting there.

Was Mark in hospital too? When had the accident happened? How come she couldnt remember?

There were too many questions she needed answers to, but her voice wouldnt work and so she had no choice but to lie in the bed, hooked up to tubes, listening to the plummy voice of the doctor as he told her to be patient, that she was in good hands and he was optimistic for her recovery.

The rest of that first day was a blur. Elliot stayed with her, but told her nothing. She wondered briefly if her mother was there, but then chided herself for being stupid. Tina Davenport wouldnt interrupt her honeymoon with her fourth husband for something as trivial as a car accident.

Lila slept, her dreams filled with floating in water, and in the darkest moments suffocating, hands around her neck, the world about to go black. When she wasnt sleeping, she was replaying the date with Mark in her head.

She hadnt wanted to go, but Beth had talked her into it. Mark was a friend of Beths boyfriend, not long out of a relationship and looking to date again. Eventually Lila had agreed to go out with him just to shut her best friend up, but as the night drew nearer, Lila was nervous. She had been shown a photo of Mark and he looked pleasant enough, but she was woefully out of practice.

Ready early, she had paced the length of her tiny flat anxiously, wishing she had an excuse to call things off. It was just drinks she had told herself when she agreed to meet up, nothing serious and she could leave at any time, but then Beths boyfriend had arranged for Mark to pick her up from home and things became that little bit more scary.

Lila couldnt recall much about the evening of the date. She could picture Marks face, remembered that he had been wearing a slick grey suit with tight trousers and shoes with pointy tips, that she had felt a little self-conscious and underdressed when hed picked her up. He had a strong Norwich accent and he kept pronouncing her name wrong, calling her Lee-la, not Ly-la, despite her correcting him, which had pissed her off. They had driven out to the coast and she had been edgy about that, thinking it too far for a first date, and they had argued, she remembered that too, though couldnt recall what the fight had been about. And then there was the journey home, Mark driving too fast, Lila asking him to slow down. She knew she had wanted to get home, that she never wanted to see him again.

It was not until the following day that she learned she wouldnt ever see him again. Mark had been killed in the accident.