The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists by Daniel Hurst (read aloud TXT) 📕

do is pat down the surface of the ground and make it look like it wasn’t dug up in the first place. It’s not easy to do, mainly because my arms are burning from the lactic acid after so long pulling a dead weight and flipping a spade. But finally, my work here is done.

The nightmare is almost done too.

I know it is, and I wish I could wake up right now while things are still relatively pleasant. But I can’t. Not yet. That’s because one more thing has to happen before then.

The sight of the soil on the surface of the grave beginning to shift tells me that thing is almost here.

Try as I might, I can’t look away. Oh, how I wish I could. But it’s futile. I am frozen stiff, almost as stiff as the body I just buried.

The body that is now seemingly working its way back to the surface.

A hand breaks through and claws at the air.  A second hand quickly follows.

But it’s the third thing that’s always the worst.

Suddenly, the man’s head rises from the ground and stares right at me, eyes wild, teeth clashing together.

This is the part where I wake up.

MY LOUD SCREAM welcomes me back into the real world, and I gasp for my breath as I look around the room and try to get my bearings. I realise I’m in my living room, lying on the sofa, the empty bottle of wine on the table in front of me.

I guess I fell asleep down here. Silly me. Now it’s time to get up and go upstairs to my bed, where hopefully the nightmares are finished for the time being. But then I notice my mobile phone flashing at me from where it sits on the table beside the empty bottle. Picking it up, I see the notification on the screen that tells me I have six missed calls from Chloe.

I’m just about to call her back when she rings me again, and I answer it within one second.

“Hey? Is everything okay?’ I ask her, worried about what the panic could be.

I’m wondering if she had an argument with Zara and is no longer sleeping over. That wouldn’t be a disaster. I could arrange for a taxi to come and get her. But then she speaks, and I realise her reason for calling is not as innocent as that.

I also realise that I was wrong when I figured that my nightmare was over.

In reality, it seems like it is only just beginning.

6

CHLOE

I’ve just got off the phone with Mum, and although she has assured me that everything is going to be okay, I don’t quite believe it.

It’s hard to do that when I’m staring at a dead body.

It all happened so fast. One minute we were laughing and running around this park as we passed the vodka to each other; the next, he dropped to the ground and didn’t get back up.

I tried my best to help him back to his feet, wondering what it was that he could have tripped over, although I think he just lost his balance because he was drunk. But he didn’t move. That was when I saw the edge of the water sprinkler sticking out of the ground. His head had landed right on top of it.

It had cracked his skull open.

And there was so much blood.

Rupert is dead. The fact I couldn’t feel a pulse tells me that. I checked everywhere for one and not just the obvious places. But I felt nothing. No heartbeat at all.

It’s difficult to comprehend what it feels like to have your hands on somebody’s skin and feel no signs of life from within.

Now the cold has set in too, and Rupert’s skin is freezing to the touch. I almost want to put my leather jacket over him, but I know that would be pointless.

You can’t warm up a corpse.

I wish Mum was here now, but I’m aware I’m going to have to wait a while for her to arrive. How long? Based on where we are, I’d estimate about ten minutes unless she speeds, which she doesn’t usually do. Then again, she isn’t usually responding to a call about her daughter standing over a dead body. Maybe she will be here in five in that case.

An icy wind blows around me as I stand shivering in the park. It’s funny, but it didn’t feel creepy when I was here with Rupert to keep me company. But now he has gone and left me here alone, I’m scared.

What if someone has seen us? What if someone is watching from the trees? There are woods to the left of this park. Anybody could be in there.

What if the police get here before Mum does?

I told her I was going to call them, but she stopped me. She said for me not to do anything until she gets here. She sounded surprisingly calm within two minutes of me explaining what had happened, which is not at all what one would expect from their parent in this situation. I was waiting for her to shout at me, or scream at me, or burst into tears and cry down the phone at me. Something that would let me know how angry, afraid and shocked she was at what had happened. But while she did seem stunned at first, she quickly gathered her thoughts and started to make a plan, and the first part of that involves me staying exactly where I am and not touching anything else until she gets here.

Checking the time on my phone, I see that it has been three minutes since our call. She should be well on her way by now, moving through the dark streets in her car and probably trying to stop her hands from shaking so much as she grips the steering wheel. I know my hands are shaking right now, and there’s no way I’d be able to drive at this time, even if