The Demolition of Lives
by Nicole Hendry (aged 15)
I'm lonely. That's why I'm doing this. Don't judge me. You don't like me, I can tell. I would say I forgive you, but I'm all out of forgiveness. My religion told me to forgive. But I'm bored of forgiveness. I'm alone and I'm meant to forgive him for that.
You can listen to my story if you want. We have a long time. The police won't find us here.
The storm roared outside, but I was happy. My wife came in, cooked me dinner. We watched the news.
After the dinner, Susanne suggested we go for a drink. The storm's fearsome cries had calmed down to the pitter patter of rain by now and so we walked, down the road to the pub. I held an umbrella out for her. I'm that kind of gentleman, you see.
The pub was crowded and I shoved my way to the front of the bar to order our drinks, pint of beer and a glass of red wine. The barmaid was slow and stopped to chat to the locals, finally she handed my our drinks and I wandered over to the table she had claimed. A booth set back into the alcove, it was warm and the ice cold beer trickled slowly down my throat, leaving a tingling in its trail.
We spent around an hour there and only had two drinks, I remember telling the police. We weren't drunk. Susanne had her wits about her when we were walking home. It wasn't her fault.
We got to the crossing, no cars. We stepped out, I went first. I looked back to see where Susanne was. She had dropped her keys. She bent down to pick them up and then she was almost at the curb. So close I could have touched her. I didn't see it. I didn't see the car. It hit her and she span over the top, flew in the air and landed with a sickening crunch about ten feet away. I ran to her. Blood was pulsing out of her skull and I couldn't stop it. I tried to call her. She wouldn't open her eyes. The blood wouldn't stop. I was covered in it. I tried to tie my scarf around her head to stop the bleeding. I don't know who called the ambulance, it wasn't the driver. He didn't stop. But then you know that.
They told me to forgive; the priest, the congregation. They told me god would help me forgive. I tried, I forgave the doctors and the nurses, and they did their best. I forgave myself. I couldn't have done anything. But I didn't have enough forgiveness left for your husband.
They caught him, and he was sentenced. I forget how long for. But he didn't lose nearly as much as me. And that's not fair. So I used my contacts. I found you.
And now we are here. It's been four days; the trail will have gone cold. The police won't find us now. And I want him to feel the pain I did. This place is quite fitting isn't it? My life was demolished after she died.
* * *
"So this guy's wife was killed in a hit and run?"
"Yeah, about a year ago."
"And the woman he was seen forcing into his car is the wife of the man who killed his wife?"
"Correct. I expect he is after revenge. Cases like this can be common. Driven to insanity by his loss. I doubt he will do anything; he won't have the courage to do to someone else what was done to him. The human kindness will stop him, for now. He's no gangster. It's not in his nature to kill."
Detective Chief Inspector Jeremy Stone and his accompanying police officer Jacob Marks were speeding towards the suspected location of Maggie Vickers, wife of Mitchell Vickers, jailed for three years for hit and run. She had been snatched three and a half days ago from a supermarket car park near her home in Surrey. It hadn't taken them long to work out who had taken her. George was caught on camera and so was his registration plate, meaning it had been a case of tracking him down.
However, his car had been dumped and leads were few and far between, but eventually he had been spotted by an elderly lady walking her dog, entering a block of flats due to be demolished. Today.
All attempts at contact with the building company had failed and having left his team behind to continue the task, he had sped off to reach the site. Jeremy looked at the clock, they still had two hours. They were leading a three car convoy and even sirens were powerless against rush hour traffic.
* * *
Time is ticking, do you want to see the clock? Look, I've set it to the time they will blow us up. It's all prepared. No one saw us go in, this really is the end. I'm sorry, this isn't your fault; none of this is your fault. But it's not mine either.
* * *
"We're not going to make it."
"Ring the office. See if they have got hold of the demolition team."
* * *
7 minutes. Still think they will find us?
* * *
"They haven't been able to."
* * *
5 minutes.
* * *
"Put your foot down!"
"There's nowhere to go! It's all traffic. There's not any room for people to move."
* * *
3 minutes. Any last words?
* * *
"There! I can see it! Quick, stop the car here. We'll run!"
* * *
2 minutes.
* * *
"This is a demolition site mate, you can't come in."
"Detective Chief Inspector Jeremy Stone. We have reason to believe there are people in your building."
"No chance, we checked this morning."
"We have witnesses that saw them..."
* * *
Boom.
The Demolition of Lives was the winning entry in the Young Crime Writers' Competition 2010.