Fifty-Eight (Amy); Fairy Tales.
I can't believe this is happening... Oh God... I hope Heather's okay...! Images of Forensic TV reconstructions keep haunting me... Heather, happy and smiling and telling me she's found her calling... Heather in the darkness, confused, paranoid, looking around to try and get her bearings like I've seen her do so many times in the dark before, and then -... And then... My mind conjures up various images of Heather's body, battered and broken and torn to pieces, lying alone somewhere... Cold, lifeless, everything she's not...
The phone rings again, and I look over at Danny, not daring to answer it myself. He looks around the room, his eyes barely meeting mine before he rolls his eyes, looking both exasperated and annoyed, as if he doesn't want to be the one to deal with whatever could be on the other end of the line.
"Yeah what?" he snaps as he picks up. He listens, his face -just like before- shows no sign of what he's hearing, how he's feeling right now, what he's thinking... "Right." he hangs up as abruptly as before, and looks around at us again. I follow his gaze. Tim looks desperately hopeful, and I'm here praying that the call was from the police telling us Heather's alright, that they've found her alive and okay... But from the tension I can see in Danny, I suspect that that's anything but what the pigs were calling about.
"Danny--" Tim Roth starts, but Danny puts his hand up, effectively silencing him.
"Shut up Tim." He says harshly. "They want us to go to the station to see if we can identify the writing."
I cringe; thanks for making it sound like we've got to go and identify a fucking body Danny! I cast a quick look at Tim Burton. He looks like he's about to pass out, and I suddenly feel sick. Very, very sick. Shit. I'm going to be sick...!
I get up quickly, running out of the room and slamming the door behind me.
Chapter 57 ; Contents ; Chapter 59
