The Society Of Dirty Hearts by Ben Cheetham

head. “We don’t want you molesting any schoolgirls on your way to your car now, do we?”
    A flush rose up Julian’s throat. “That’s not fair and you know it.”
    Mia’s eyes flickered as if she realised she’d gone too far, but she didn’t untie Julian. Sighing, he made his way downstairs and out into the street. He found a low brick wall and sawed the stocking against its edge, conscious that it wasn’t the kind of neighbourhood where a stranger could loiter without causing curtains to twitch. It took him a good ten minutes to work his hands free. Stuffing the stocking into his pocket, he returned to his car. He felt bad about the diary, but it occurred to him that Mia must’ve known there was a good chance he’d find it. Perhaps on some level, conscious or subconscious, she’d wanted him to find it. Perhaps, like her Facebook photo, it was a call for help – help she desperately needed, but was too proud to ask for. He released a heavy breath. Perhaps he was just an idiot for reading it. Still, he couldn’t shake the image of Mr Ugly from his mind. He had no doubt that Mr Ugly was one of the ‘bad people’ Mia had referred to. But who was he? Did he even exist or was he just something produced from her mind, a representation of her troubled psyche? Julian shook his head. That face had displayed a sordid cynicism of almost inhuman proportions. Sure Mia was cynical, but that wasn’t all she was. Beneath her cynicism, he knew now, there was a tender heart. But that heart was being eaten out of her by bad people. And when the last bite was gone, Mia would be gone too, gone like Joanne Butcher.
    Henry greeted Julian with a bark as he entered the house. Stooping to scratch behind his ears, he made his way through to the kitchen. Wanda was preparing the evening meal. “What’ve you been up to?” she asked.
    Julian expelled a breath of irritation. “Not you as well. Always questions, questions.”
    Wanda’s eyes grew stern. “Don’t get offish with me, Julian. If we ask questions it’s not because we’re trying to pry into your life, it’s because we’re worried about you. Would you rather we just ignored you and let you get yourself into a worse mess than you’re already in?”
    “Who says I’m in a mess?”
    Wanda made a who are you trying to kid face. “I’ve seen you like this before, Julian, when you were having those nightmares. You’ve got the same look in your eyes now that you had then.”
    Julian dropped his gaze from Wanda’s. “Where’s Mum?”
    “In bed. All this upset has wiped her out.”
    A twinge of guilt tugged at Julian. “I’m taking Henry for a walk.”
    As he headed for the back door, Wanda said, “All we want is for you to be happy, Julian.”
    He hesitated, glancing a smile at Wanda. “I know. I’m sorry for snapping.”
    Julian made his way through the woods to where the path forked. He took the fork that led straight on. The police were gone now. The only sign that they’d ever been there was some torn strands of yellow-and-black plastic ribbon dangling from tree-trunks where he’d found the body. He thought about Joanne Butcher, about the way she’d looked alive, about the way she’d looked dead. He thought about Mia. “How much is enough?” he said to himself. “How much is enough for what?”
     

 
    Chapter 8
     
    When Julian returned from his walk, he went to bed. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was eager to see if the dream returned. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. Sleep came on, and with it the dream. He jerked awake, trembling with disgust and rage. Catching a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he snatched up a mug and hurled it at his reflection. The mirror cracked with a loud pop. The distorted, fragmented face that stared at him from it seemed like the revelation of his inner being. There was a knock at his door.
    “Everything okay in there?” asked Christine. “What was that noise?”
    Julian slung a shirt over the mirror,