Total pages in book: 150
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143633 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 718(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 479(@300wpm)
The man upstairs in apartment six doesn’t belong here, in our rundown block on the slum side of the city.
High-class and educated, suited and booted, and at least thirty years my senior.
Yes. Thirty whole years.
But that doesn’t matter, he’s absolutely gorgeous.
What does matter is, they say he’s a disgraced teacher that preys on his college students. A filthy, sick man, who deserves prison.
Other residents are always repeating the same morbid mantra.
Rosie, don’t ever talk to that dirty freak upstairs, no matter what. Don’t you dare!
So, I did what I was told and stayed out of his way, and I never, ever talked to the man upstairs.
Not until one crazy bad night, in total desperation, when I had nowhere else to turn…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Prologue
Rosie
It was five months ago that our block got a new resident upstairs in apartment number six. The new resident might have been beautiful, without the heaviness of the world on his shoulders.
He was tall, with dark hair stranded with silver, and a sculpted brow over bright green eyes. Well-dressed but unkempt, in tailored suits slightly too big for his lean frame. He looked gaunt, like he’d seen happier days. Much, much happier days…
A man like him shouldn’t be here in block four of Crenham Drive, with its faded green carpet hallways. He was out of place amongst the stale smell and the peeling paintwork.
No. The man in apartment six didn’t belong here, but he’d arrived with a barrage of whispers. Disgusting, seedy, nasty. Fucked up. Perverted. Arrogant, reclusive. Sinister.
They said he was a disgraced teacher, who’d preyed on his students. A sick man, who deserved prison. Someone on the run.
They said a lot of things, in fact.
Other residents would scowl at me with hissed voices, always the same morbid tune.
Rosie, don’t you ever, ever talk to the man upstairs.
You’d better stay the fuck away from the man upstairs, he’s trouble, Rosie.
So I, sweet little Rosie, heeded their advice. I’d shiver whenever I caught sight of him, eyes dropping whenever he passed by me in the hall. I did what I was told and I never, ever talked to the man upstairs.
Not until one night, in total desperation, when I had nowhere else to turn…
Chapter One
Rosie
Mum’s scream was so loud, I heard it over my earphones, my audiobook drowned out by her terror. Fuck, how I ran.
Dinner plates were crashing from the draining board as I raced into the kitchen, smashing into jagged chunks over the floor. There was Scottie, slamming Mum into the oven as she lashed out and battled against him. She screamed obscenities in his face until the vicious, stumpy weasel clamped his hands around her throat.
“You’d better shut the fuck up now, Bev, you stupid, fucking bitch!”
I screamed before I charged, set to wrestle him to free my mum, but he elbowed me away like I was a scrawny wisp, knowing I wasn’t strong enough to stop him.
“FUCK OFF, ROSIE! KEEP OUT OF IT!”
Mum was choking, her eyes wide as she struggled, and I didn’t know what to do. Then he slapped her and shook her and slapped her some more before he was at it again, hands back crushing her windpipe. I was shaking too bad to try to put a knife into him, so I bolted out of the apartment and down the corridor to hammer at Martha’s door.
“MARTHA, IT’S ROSIE! HELP! HELP! IT’S SCOTTIE! HE’S GOT MUM!”
I could hear the roar of the TV from her living room as I hammered. Thank fuck she was in there.
“MARTHA, PLEASE! OPEN THE DOOR!!”
The TV went quiet, and I could hear Rolo barking. I heard her approach the other side, but she didn’t open up for me.
“Call the police!” she shouted, but I didn’t have time.
I slammed my fists against the wood.
“MARTHA, PLEASE! HE’S CHOKING HER!”
“CALL THE FUCKING POLICE!” she screamed back.
Fuck it, she wasn’t going to open the door.
I ran to the end of the corridor, but Trisha ignored my screams, even though I could hear Ramsay crying in her hallway.
I ran down to the floor below, but I knew nobody there would help me. Everyone hated Scottie Barnes, and they didn’t like my mother much, either. I was alone and petrified, and there was no way the police would show up in time.
So, fuck it.
I grabbed hold of the handrail and ran upstairs.
Gerald and Eveline in number eight were in their 80s, and Bertie in number seven was on crutches from a fall, so there was only one option left, and I took it. I raced to the end of the upstairs corridor and I hammered on number six’s door.
“PLEASE! WILL YOU HELP ME! PLEASE! I NEED HELP!!”
I prayed, still hammering, trying to scream out through my sobs, because I was sure Scottie was so fucked up tonight that he was going to kill my mum.
“PLEASE! I NEED HELP!”
I could barely see through the tears when the door of apartment six opened, and there he was. The tall, sinister man upstairs. He was in one of his suits, his striped navy tie hanging limp as he towered high. His eyebrows were pitted for a moment as he looked down at me through hard green eyes. I pushed my glasses up my nose to meet his stare, and managed to suck in enough breath that he could hear my words.
“Scottie has got my mum in the kitchen, and he’s choking her. PLEASE, please, come and help me. Please, save my mum!”
I was so relieved when he stepped out and raced ahead of me. He took the stairs three at a time, on a mission as he ran, already storming through our open front door by the time I got back to our floor. I’d only just made it to our hallway when Scottie came sailing across into the living room, clattering over the coffee table. It bust underneath him as he hit the deck, and I hoped his rotten legs were broken too, but unfortunately not. He hitched up on his elbows, unscathed.