Deep Water by Mark Ayre (best big ereader TXT) 📕

"No more talk, Jacob. I've been clear. You service Gray, or I chop off your little tiddler and feed it to you. It's win-win for me. Either will make a great home movie."

Abbie saw the glint of the blade in Ana's hand. The thickset guy, Gray, unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. Between meaty hands, he gripped his waistband, awaiting Jacob's decision.

Now was the time for Abbie to act. As she stood behind Cameraman, the past waylaid her, assaulting her mind.

Handsome Harry. His hand on her teenage shoulder. Smiling.

"I wasn't going to drink."

"Come on, Abbs. Just one. Do it for me?"

Rage churned in her stomach and rushed up her throat like bile. She choked on it. It seemed to flood her mind and cloud all judgement. Without thought, she acted.

Jacob was shifting. Twisting on his knees, he faced Gray's crotch. No longer could he refrain from crying.

As a grinning Gray began to lower his jeans and boxers, Abbie took hold of Cameraman's head, twisted it to one side, and smashed him face-first into the rock.

A torrent of blood.

Cameraman collapsed. As the still recording phone bounced onto the sand, Gray and Ana spun to face Abbie. As he turned, Gray's hip floored Jacob.

"What the fuck?" said Ana.

Gray was pulling up his boxers and jeans, hurriedly zipping his fly.

Driven by volcanic, apoplectic fury, Abbie burst into the cave.

Gray's hands were on his belt. He released the buckle, leaving it undone.

Abbie arrived. She kicked rock-solid abs and smashed a fist into his thick skull.

Ana came with the knife. Gray swung a punch.

Amateurs. Neither had received combat training. Gray's bulk and the strength he could put behind his fist had always been enough to stop any opponent. But his moves were clumsy and slow. With his eyes, he signposted every shot.

Dodging the oaf easily, Abbie ducked and planted an elbow in Ana's stomach, collapsing her at the waist before shoving her to the ground.

This done, Abbie ducked beneath another pathetic swing from Gray. The move sent him off balance. Abbie watched him teeter and came in hard. Smashing his nose with an elbow, his gut with a knee. Getting a foot behind his leg, she toppled him like an ancient, crumbling statue.

He landed on his back. Abbie was above him.

"What did you want?" she asked. "Oh yeah, servicing."

As Gray opened his mouth, Abbie stamped a boot between his legs.

Took a breath.

Stamped again.

The thug's eyes bulged. He gasped. Grabbed his crotch. Rolled over with a whimper.

Ana was rising. Snatching the knife.

Abbie closed her left hand around the blade-holding fist. With her right, she grabbed Ana's throat and shoved the monster against the rough stone wall.

Abbie began to squeeze.

More memories. They surrounded Abbie like mosquitos. She couldn't swat them. Ana occupied both her hands.

"There see, that wasn't so bad—just one drink. Now, let's see if we can't loosen you up a bit. Have you met the guys?"

Abbie closed her eyes. Shook her head. Could she feel Harry's breath on her neck? No, impossible. But she saw him lead her to his group of grinning pals. Within minutes she had felt funny. Wrong. Soon after, Harry led her upstairs, lay her in his bed, told her not to worry. Some of his friends had entered. After that, it became a blur.

"Rapist," Abbie said to Ana, and new waves of fury washed over her.

Ana choked, spluttered. This only made Abbie squeeze harder. Ana's face began to change colour. Memories continued to race through Abbie's mind.

Ben, the representative of the company that paid Abbie to follow her prophetic dreams, to save lives. He'd trained her to fight. Had given her much advice.

What did he say when he caught her tearing herself apart over the murders she was committing?

When people think of monsters, they see emotionless sociopaths. Such people are rare. Those who feel no emotion rarely need to kill. Passion, hatred, fear, guilt: these drive murderers and create serial killers. As long as you remove emotion from your decisions to end lives, you will never become a monster. Kill only to save the lives of others or in self-defence, and you will never lose your humanity.

Something cracked. It took a second to realise the sound had originated from beneath Abbie's left fist.

Abbie's fingers unclenched, pulled away. The knife clattered to the floor. Ana's hand was misshapen. Two of the fingers crossed unnaturally.

Ana's eyes closed.

Behind Abbie, Jacob took deep breaths. Cameraman was still. Gray was groaning.

The teen was no longer in danger. If Abbie killed Ana, it would not be to save a life or in self-defence, but because she wanted to. A decision driven only by emotion.

Abbie saw Harry, laying her on the bed.

Ben, comforting her.

Finally, Bobby, smiling.

With a raw, desperate moan of internal pain, Abbie released Ana's throat. Watched the bitch slump to the ground. Maybe alive, maybe dead.

Staggering back, Abbie almost tripped over Jacob. From the cave entrance, someone said, "Ana."

Later this morning, Bobby would text her. He always did. For the last three weeks, that first text of the day had sent a thrill across her body.

This morning she would have to cancel their date and tell him she had been a fool. Normal pursuits of happiness were for normal people. Not for the likes of her.

"What did you do?" It was the same person who had spoken Ana's name. Ellie.

Abbie bent down, collected the knife. When she rose, she kept her head bowed.

"I would step out the cave and away from the entrance if I were you," she said. "To get out of here, I'll have to look up. If I see your face, I'll know immediately if you were aware of what was happening here. If I think you were, I don't know what this hand, holding this knife, will do. My suggestion is none of us wants to find out."

Keeping her head low, Abbie turned to Jacob. He was, on his knees, staring at the cave's exit.

"Come on," said Abbie. "Get up."

It was not only Ellie standing in