One by One by Simon Kernick Read Free Book Online

now was escape. And I was inching ever closer to it.
    Corridge stopped moving. His body went limp and almost immediately a strong smell of shit filled the air, temporarily masking that of the smoke.
    â€˜What are you doing over there?’ snarled Pat. ‘If you try anything I’ll make your death slow as well.’
    The bottom rope split, leaving only one left and, as Pat reached round to re-tie the other end of his hangman’s noose now that Corridge was dead, I managed to pull off my hoodie, giving me enough wriggle room to slide down the chair and free myself from the last length of rope still binding me.
    I was on my feet in an instant as the adrenaline surged through me. Hope. I finally had hope. The door was still open and I charged through it and along the landing, taking the stairs three at a time.
    He was right behind me as I leaped the last five steps, landing in a squat. The front door was bolted and the key was no longer in it. I had to use the back door or nothing.
    It was then that I remembered something. Turning a sharp left I ran into the lounge and over to the grand old fireplace, silently thanking God, or whoever it was protecting me today, that what I was looking for was there.
    The door slammed shut behind me and I could hear him in the room.
    Crouching down, I grabbed the ornamental poker and swung round just in time to see him running towards me – a long-bladed, bloodied knife in his gloved hand.
    With a bloodcurdling scream, I swung the poker as hard as I could in a tight arc, putting every ounce of strength into it.
    Pat tried to throw up an arm and get out of the way at the same time but he’d miscalculated and he wasn’t fast enough. The poker caught him right in the throat, knocking him to one side. He stumbled into a footrest and fell to the floor, managing to keep hold of the knife while clutching his throat with his free hand.
    I didn’t hesitate. As he rolled round to face me, I lifted the poker above my head and hit him a second time, the blow making a sickening crunch as it struck the bridge of his nose, shattering bone and cartilage. Then I was hitting him again and again, a cloud of rage, euphoria and power swirling through my mind and, in that moment, I was transported back to that dark bloody night all those years ago. I’d used a hammer then but the feeling was exactly the same. Complete and utter release. Blood splattered the floorboards, the furniture, even the walls. But still I didn’t stop until Pat’s head was nothing more than a pulped, bloody mess and he’d finally stopped breathing. Only then did I drop the poker and step back from his body.
    I’d felt the same way when I’d killed Rachel. Sated. At least for the first few seconds. Then reality had set in, followed by regret, because I genuinely hadn’t wanted to kill her. It’s true. I was obsessed with her. I think I’d had a crush on her right from the moment we’d moved into the same house but then, after she’d seduced me one night, it moved from crush into far deeper, darker territories. We had a brief relationship. It was our secret. I didn’t think anyone knew about it, especially not Crispin or Charlie. I loved Crispin but I was infatuated with Rachel and when it became obvious that she didn’t feel the same way – that, as far as she was concerned, I was just another notch on her bedpost – it made me angry. Angry and jealous. I hated the way she toyed with people, and that night, when she’d started getting off with Luke in front of me, my rage had become uncontrollable. I confronted her in the toilets and she’d dismissed me like I was nothing, telling me to, in her words, ‘get a fucking life’.
    But I didn’t get a life. I took one. More sober than the rest of them, I’d waited until she and Luke were comatose in his room and then I’d crept in, naked, with the hammer, and killed her. How Luke