Exceptional Danielle speaks to Oliver for the first time His Silence : His Silence - Chapter Eighteen by Jacob1395

Background When Harvey murders his parents, he refuses to say why he did it. Twenty years later, he's finally ready to talk. My eyelids flicker open. I sit upright in bed, and reach out for a light switch on the wall, running my hand across the smooth surface. There’s nothing. There wasn’t even a lamp in the room. I pull off my bed covers, flinching as I knock into the bedside cabinet as I swing around. I must’ve fallen asleep pretty quickly, but I’ve no idea for how long. I pick up my phone, the light from the screen making me squint. It’s just gone three a.m. outside it’s like someone’s thrown a dark curtain across the moon and the stars. I switch the torch on my phone. The room brightens around me with a silver glow. I remember coming to the house, Oliver and Luke greeting us. My beating heart begins to calm. I sometimes get like this the first night I go away anywhere. I wake up in the night and panic when I don’t recognise where I am. ‘Callum,’ I hiss. I was certain I’d heard something. Movement. The sound of a door clicking into place, I’m sure of it. I shine the light from my phone onto the spare bed. I edge closer towards it. There’s an imprint in the sheets, like someone’s . . . like someone’s been sitting on it. My blood freezes. Was someone in here, watching me while I slept? I don’t want to move. Someone was in here, watching me, I’m sure of it. Fuck. My heart skips against my chest. Forcing my legs to move, I dive towards the door, yank it open, and shine the light from my phone down the corridor, expecting to find someone standing at the very end. It’s cooler up here, the window’s been left open slightly. The corridor’s empty. Every door is shut. Callum was told he could have the sofa downstairs to sleep on; he’ll be there now. On tiptoes I edge my way along the corridor. I reach the top of the stairs and edge down, one step at a time. Keep going. Don’t look back. Keep going. I grip my phone tighter in my hand, clinging onto the precious light I have, as though any moment it might flicker out and plunge me into darkness. I reach the bottom. The door to the living room area, where we had dinner, is ahead of me. I dart over to it, reach for the door handle. It’s locked. No, no, no, no. I rattle it again, it doesn’t budge. This can’t be happening. ‘Callum,’ I say, keeping as quiet as I can, knocking gently on the door. He’s got to hear me. There’s no movement. I call his number; it goes straight through to voicemail. I squeeze my eyes shut, this can’t be happening. Perhaps his phone’s run out of battery. He doesn’t normally switch it off when he goes to bed. There are some evenings when I’m still chatting to him gone midnight. Something’s wrong.   I switch my gaze to the front door to my left and hurry over to it, cursing when I find it’s locked too. It’s like the walls are beginning to press in on me. There’s a window to the right hand side. I peer out of it. Callum’s car is still parked outside. At least that’s something. I spin around. The kitchen’s at the other end of the hallway. The door’s ajar. There’s a light on inside. How could I not have noticed it? I race over to it and push it open. My heart stops. Oliver’s sitting at the table, wearing a purple dressing gown, his hands clasped around a mug. The comforting scent of hot chocolate reaches me. Around him the kitchen is spotless. The plates, left in here after dinner earlier, have been cleaned and tidied away. He doesn’t look surprised to see me. ‘Danielle would you like to join me?’ he asks, gesturing to the seat opposite.

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