Silent Scream

Fifty

Tracy was the first to 'run away', and there were times when I wish she hadn't. The pang of regret I felt afterwards was so surprising and unknown that I struggled to name it.

Retrospective thinking does not come naturally to a psychopath unless a plan goes wrong – and then it is only analytical, not emotional.

The world tipped slightly on its axis as I wrestled this intruder to the ground. Upon submission I understood that the regret came not from what I'd done but that I would not see her again; that I would not watch the swing of her hips as she moved around the room.

That the regret was only in correlation to what was lost to me.

The world righted itself.

Despite this, I knew Tracy was different. There are females that even as young girls stand out. They enter a room and heads turn; eyes rove. It is not to do with beauty but an inner core; a spirit that will not be broken. A resolve that ensures that the owner will achieve whatever they set their mind to.

It is attractive and arousing.

I knew that Tracy's nine-year-old body was sold for thirty-five pounds by her mother, Dina. A week later it was sold for considerably more when Dina understood the market value. Two months later, Dina retired from the business completely.

Tracy was removed by social services two days after her fourteenth birthday. She was brought to Crestwood and placed amongst other abused girls who had been beaten, raped, neglected.

She was not thankful.

She was not a victim and she had wanted to stay exactly where she was.

Having learned the hard way that she could trust no one, Tracy had been hiding earnings from Dina for two years. Tracy didn't complain about life's challenges. She simply turned them to her own advantage.

She told me all about her early life. It reminded me of a factual narration being read from a book. Maybe once or twice her voice faltered but she quickly recovered and moved on.

I listened and I nodded and I offered my support.

And then we had sex. Correction ... I had sex and she struggled. Rape is an ugly word and does not define what took place between us.

Afterwards she stood and looked me in the eye. Her gaze was cold, calculating and at odds with such a young face.

‘That is gonna cost you big,’ she said.

I had no fear about Tracy telling anyone what had occurred between us. She trusted no one, only herself. She would figure a way to use it against me that would have some benefit to herself.

I admired her youthful optimism and was not surprised when she cornered me a few months later.

‘I'm pregnant and it's yours,’ she said, triumphantly.

I was amused even as I doubted both parts of her statement. One of the things I liked most about Tracy was her ability to manipulate any situation to her own benefit.

‘So?’ I asked. We both knew that negotiations had been opened.

‘I want money,’ she said.

I smiled. Of course she did. The real question was, how much. Past transactions posted a figure in my head. It would be the price of an abortion and a little extra. The normal cost of doing business.

I remained silent, using the most powerful negotiation tool available.

She tipped her head and waited. She knew it too.

‘How much?’ I asked, indulgently. There was something about this girl.

‘Enough.’

I nodded. Of course I would give her enough.

‘Is five hundred …’

‘Not even close,’ she said, narrowing her eyes.

It had been worth a low opening bid. One never knew. It had worked twice before ...

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘Five grand or I'm opening my mouth.’

I laughed out loud. That was more than a little extra. ‘Abortions don't …’

‘I ain’t having a fucking abortion. No way. I want money to get away.’ She patted her stomach. ‘To start again.’

No way in hell was that going to happen. I am a reasonable person. I knew that if she were to make accusations right now she would not be believed; with a walking DNA match I would never be free. The date stamp of its birth would be a constant threat.

That baby could never be born.

I nodded my understanding. I needed time to think; time to prepare.

Later that night I was ready.

‘We really should part with a drink,’ I said, pouring a generous measure of vodka into a dribble of Coke.

‘You got my money?’ she asked, raising the glass.

I nodded and patted my top pocket. ‘What are you planning to do?’

‘I'm gonna go to London, ger a flat and a job and then goo back to school and get some qualifications.’

She continued to talk and I continued to top up her glass. Twenty minutes later her eyes were hooded and her words were slurred.

‘Come with me, I want to show you something.’ I offered my hand. She ignored it, stood and fell back down. It took a few moments for her to attempt it again. This time she weaved towards the door like a dog on an agility course. I stepped ahead and opened the back door. The sudden gust of fresh air sent her falling into me. I steadied her but her legs buckled forward and she fell to the ground.

She laughed as she tried to push herself up from the floor. I laughed with her as I grabbed her by the upper arms and marched her across the grass.

Twenty-five paces north west and I dropped her. She fell into the hole on her back. She chuckled again. So did I.

I knelt in the pit beside her, my hands at her throat. The feel of her skin against my palms was arousing, even as she tried to swat my hands away. Her eyes were closed and she writhed beneath me in a semi-conscious state. The move of her hips and the swell of her breasts was hypnotic. And could not be ignored. The flimsy shorts were ripped away with one swift movement and immediately I was inside her.

Her body was pliable in my hands as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She moved as though in a dreamlike state. There was no struggle like the first time.

When I stood her eyes had rolled backwards. I crouched beside her in the limited space and reached for the ripped shorts. They were mine to keep forever. They would help me remember.

My hands once more found her throat. My thumbs hovered above her larynx but they just wouldn't press. Her pretty face still smiled from the stupor.

Frustrated, I jumped out of the hole. The first shovel of dirt landed on her torso. She still didn't open her eyes.

I worked frantically, filling the hole within minutes. This method of disposal was new to me.

I stamped the ground down and re-laid the grass.

For half an hour I stayed with her. I didn't want her to be alone.

I sat beside the grave and cursed her for what she had made me do. If only she hadn't been so greedy. If she'd just accepted the money for the abortion everything would have been okay.

But that baby could never have been born.