Kill Me Again

by Rachel Abbott

raindrops flow down the glass, streaking across the reflection of my pale face. I was regretting the impetuous decisions I had made – even though at the time they had seemed right – and wondering what was going to happen next in my life. When the knock came at the door, I didn’t even check who it was. I thought I knew. I thought I had been forgiven. I hurried to the door, pulling it wide, smiling to show my visitor how pleased I was to see him. I knew instantly it wasn’t the person

they reflected back the light from my hall. I looked at the matching Chinese masks, and my legs nearly gave way beneath me. The plastic a smooth yellowish flesh tone, the eye sockets diamond-shaped, empty, revealing the glare of human pupils beneath. I didn’t have time to scream. A gloved hand shot out and grabbed me round the throat, squeezing tighter and tighter until I was sure I would pass out. Why were they

would it help her to find him? If the photo of the boy with the bike was Duncan, Patricia Rowe must know something about him. Perhaps she knew his mother. Perhaps they had lived near Mrs Rowe and he had been a friend of some of her children. Maggie looked hastily at her watch. She had to get in touch with this woman – she wanted to know who Duncan really was. She went back to the Facebook post that contained the images of the children and saw there were a few comments. Most were from people praising Patricia Rowe for the work she had