1398: Part 14

Kristina was awoken by the sound of someone hammering on her door. Drowsily, she stumbled to her feet; it took her a moment to realise that she had fallen asleep on her couch, and that Maxine was still there snoring peacefully.

“I have a bloody doorbell,” she muttered to herself. “Why does no-one ever use it?”

This was a constant and irrational source of frustration for her. She’d spent good money on a doorbell — there wasn’t one there when she moved in — and apparently no-one ever noticed it.

She wasn’t quite sure what time it was; the TV was still on, and it was showing some sort of early morning cookery show. She couldn’t really tell what was going on as she was still half asleep, but the things they were cooking did not look at all appetising right now.

Staggering over to the front door, she peered through the peephole and saw an unfamiliar face. A delivery, perhaps? She hadn’t ordered anything recently, but perhaps it was one of her mother’s infrequent “care packages,” or perhaps a gift from a secret admirer.

She snorted derisively at the prospect. As if, she though.

She chained the door and opened it a crack.

“Hello?” she said.

“Hello,” said the unfamiliar face. He looked like a pleasant enough sort — perhaps a little older than Kristina. She put him somewhere around Martin’s age, which would put him in his mid-thirties. There was a youthfulness around his eyes, though, that made him look younger than he was. “Sorry to bother you. Are you Kristina?”

“Yes,” she said uneasily. How did this stranger know who she was?

“I’m Mark,” he said. “I’m really sorry to just drop in like this, but I was wondering if Maxine was with you?”

“Um,” said Kristina. She knew she had to think quickly.

So this was Mark. She still didn’t really know what to make of him, or indeed what had truly happened between him and Maxine. Maxine had assured her that everything was fine and that it had all been a big misunderstanding, but Kristina knew her friend well enough by now to know when she was putting on a brave face and lying to avoid talking about difficult things. And now seemed to be one of those times, so letting the source of her anxiety know she was here would probably be a bad idea.

“No,” she said finally. She knew only a fraction of a second had passed, but it felt like several minutes had gone by in the instant she’d been considering what to do. “Sorry. Are you looking for her?”

“Yeah,” he said. “We were supposed to have a date last night, but she stood me up. I just wanted to make sure she was all right, and you seemed like the right person to ask.”

“Okay,” said Kristina. Her skin was crawling, but she wasn’t sure why; speaking to him like this, he seemed like a perfectly reasonable, polite person, but at the back of her mind, she harboured thoughts that all was clearly not as it appeared. “Well, I’ll see if I can get hold of her and let her know you were after her. Looking for her,” she corrected herself.

“All right,” he said, seemingly trying to peer in through the crack in the door. “Again, sorry to bother you.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Take care now. Have a nice day.”

She closed the door on him, and she watched through the peephole as he walked away. He paused at the end of the path up to the front door, turned around and looked back at the door, looked as if he was about to come walking back up the path, then finally walked away.

Kristina quietly walked back into the living room, where Maxine was stirring.

“What was that?” said Maxine, sleepily. Kristina felt like telling the truth might not be a good idea here.

“Um, nothing,” she said. “Just a delivery.”

Maxine sat up and rubbed her eyes, then yawned.

“A delivery?” she asked. “But you’re not holding any package.”

“I…” Kristina looked down at her empty hands before realising the stupidity of her lie. “Um.”

“Kris?” said Maxine, suddenly perking up and looking worried. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah, I, um,” she stammered.

“Kris,” said Maxine. “It’s fine. You can tell me if there’s something wrong.”

“It’s just…” Should she say anything? Should she— “It was Mark. He was looking for you.”

That answers that, she thought. Her mouth had a tendency to run ahead of her brain when she was nervous.

Maxine turned pale, but didn’t say anything.

“He said that you two had a date last night,” she continued. No sense stopping now. “And that you stood him up. And he came here to see if you were all right.”

Maxine frowned.

“Bastard,” she muttered under her breath, sighing.

“My turn now, Max,” said Kristina. “I want you to tell me what’s going on, because I know you haven’t been telling me the truth.”

Maxine closed her eyes and took a deep, unsteady breath; Kristina thought she heard a slight sob in there somewhere.

“All right,” said Maxine. “And I’m sorry for getting you wrapped up in this, but it looks like you are. He must have gone through my phone when I wasn’t looking or something and found your details. Asshole.”

“I thought  you said things were going all right?” said Kristina. But she could tell her friend was becoming more agitated.

“Well, they’re not,” said Maxine. “Mark may act all sweet and nice when he’s around other people or trying to get something he wants, but behind closed doors he’s… not a nice person.” Her tone was acidic. “He lives on power; on exerting it over other people, and proving to himself that he’s the best.”

“How do you mean?” asked Kristina.

“After… what I told you before, I told him I didn’t want to see him again, that I felt uncomfortable with what he did,” Maxine replied. “He threatened me. Said he was going to tell the bosses at work that I’d been harassing him. And he’s weaseled his way into so many people’s good graces that they’d believe him over me.”

“Why would he do that?” said Kristina. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Like I said,” Maxine continued, “he just loves to exert power over others. I don’t know why, because he’s not particularly successful or high up in the company; it just seems as if he’s compensating for something. But in all our conversations, I never figured out what; he’s been putting up one hell of a front in order to get what he wanted.”

“Max,” said Kristina, laying a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Has he hurt you?”

“He’s tried,” said Maxine. “Fortunately I’ve always managed to get out of the way before he could do anything. But he’s been forcing me to keep seeing him with these threats and everything. Last night, I just told myself “no more,” and ditched him. But it looks like he’s not going to take no for an answer.

“Well, he’s gone away for now,” said Kristina.

“He’ll be back,” said Maxine. “Oh, Kris, I’m sorry, I really hope he doesn’t start giving you grief, too. I feel terrible.”

“Don’t,” said Kristina seriously. “The guy clearly has problems. Is there anything you can do? Can you go to the police or whatever?”

“And say what?” said Maxine. “He hasn’t actually done anything to me, so what can I report him for? I don’t want to get in trouble for wasting their time. ‘Please, officer, this man’s been being a bit weird around me.'”

“Max!” said Kristina. “You just said he tried to hurt you.”

“But I have no proof of that,” she said. “Why would they ever believe me?”

“Because it’s their job to check it out if you report it?” said Kristina. “It can’t hurt to tell them, can it?”

“I don’t know,” said Maxine.

 

*  *  *  *

Later that day, well after Maxine had gone home — after the pair of them had made sure Mark was nowhere to be seen outside Kristina’s place — Kristina’s phone rang once again.

It was Maxine. Kristina immediately had a bad feeling. She tapped the screen to answer.

“Hello?” she said. But there was no response from Maxine; perhaps she had pocket-dialled her again?

She heard the sound of banging in the distance, and someone shouting. Was it Mark? Was he trying to get in to Maxine’s place?

Kristina continued to listen, and she heard Maxine’s voice shouting something back. The banging continued; more forcefully now. It didn’t sound like knocking any more.

Kristina was horrified by what she was hearing, but was at a loss for what to do; she couldn’t tell if she was misinterpreting the sounds she heard, or if Maxine really was in some kind of danger.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for her to find out; she heard the distinctive sound of the phone being picked up at the other end, then Maxine’s voice hissed down the phone at her.

“Kris, please, get help.”

The phone clattered down on some sort of surface, and Kristina could hear her footsteps going away. She wanted to continue listening — there was something morbidly fascinating about what was going on — but at the same time she knew that she had to do something, right now.

She hung up the call and, fingers trembling, dialled 999.

“Hello, emergency services, which service do you require?” came a calm, friendly voice on the other end of the line.

“Police, please,” said Kristina, her voice shaking.

As she waited to be connected, her mind started turning over all the possibilities of what might be happening at Maxine’s place right now. She was terrified for her friend, and she hoped beyond hope that the police would be able to get there in time to save her.