The Quiet Ones: A gripping psychological thriller by Betsy Reavley

colour threads are neatly lined up in a metal biscuit tin, along with various needles and pins. I study the picture she’s started. It’s cross-stitch, or somethin’ like that. A posy of flowers tied with a pink ribbon. It must have taken her a long time.
    As I pick the stitchin’ out and destroy her work, I can’t help but smile. This woman is a sad, lonely bitch and lookin’ around her house, I can see why. She needs to get herself a life.
    Droppin’ the ruined needlework on the floor I pull out my dick and piss all over it. My urine is very yellow and strong smellin’, which is perfect. I enjoy watchin’ the puddle spread and seep into the sludge green carpet. Getting’ that out ain’t goin’ to be easy. That’ll keep her busy.
    After shakin’ the final drops off the end, I put it away and wander into her bedroom. It looks like it belongs to a nun. There is a single bed, covered with a pink polyester bedspread, a small cupboard, matchin’ chest of drawers and a little dressin’ table. The person who lives here must be the dullest creature on the planet. I think about fingerin’ through her clothes but can’t be bothered. I’m so uninspired by my surroundin’s. Instead, I lie down on the bed and look up at the ceilin’. It’s got that bobble paint effect all over it and I start to see shapes in the plaster. Bein’ in this place is like travellin’ back to the 1970’s and never findin’ your way back. Reminds me of a prison.
    Suddenly, I start to feel tired. I think it comes from disappointment. I feel empty bein’ here. It’s like lookin’ at the reflection of a ghost. As I close my eyes, I remind myself I can’t stop here. She could be back any minute. But before I leave, I have one partin’ gift.
           Rubbin’ my hand over my groin , I stimulate myself. As I grow hard, I imagine that horse and remember the way it felt killin’ those people. Rollin’ onto my side, I pull out my erect, throbbin’ dick and tug hard and fast. Just before I cum, I have time to get hold of her pillow with my free hand. I ejaculate all over it and finally wipe my nob on it. Then I get up off the bed, put the pillow back where it was, cum side down so she won’t see it, and straighten the bedspread. It looks like I was never there and I smile at myself. The thought of her layin’ her head down to sleep, restin’ on my dead sperm, makes me chuckle.
    I leave the room, pullin’ the door closed behind me, and decide it’s time to go. And just at that minute, I hear a loud bangin’ comin’ from the far wall. My heart quickens as I make my exit, back through the way I came.
    Once outside, I pull up my hood over my head, coverin’ as much of my face as possible, and disappear into a cluster of trees nearby.
    I wait there till it’s dark, before decidin’ it’s safe to leave and make my way back towards the train station.
     

 
    May 18th
     
     
    It’s been a few days since I met Ailene. Our lunch went as well as could be expected, given the circumstances. We talked about getting together again soon before she left, which made me feel good. She said I should visit her and I agreed I would.
    She was not what I was expecting. Nice as she was, I imagined someone a bit more out-going, maybe someone more like me. It crosses my mind that I am a bit disappointed, but I quickly dismiss the idea. Why should she be like me? We’ve lived such different lives. Besides, that was only our first meeting. She was bound to be tense. I certainly was.
    Charlie was eager to get all the details when he got back from work and I told him everything I knew. His reaction was unexpected. He said he felt sorry for her. I hadn’t thought of it like that until then. I suppose what happened to her was sad. She didn’t really have a choice about what happened to her baby. I couldn’t imagine being in her shoes at that age. Being a teenage girl is hard enough without discovering you are pregnant. I shudder at the thought, but