Black Chalk

So, we arrived nearly a week before I phoned you. I rented an apartment across the street, hoping to spy on you, I hadn’t decided what I was going to do. But we couldn’t see into your place, Jolyon, you never once opened the curtains. You didn’t even go out. Correction, you left just once to go to that store on the corner. Early, of course, but I was jet-lagged and couldn’t sleep so I saw you. By the time I got dressed and ran down the stairs, you were already on your way back with a bag of rice, some tins of chilli.

That’s why I had to phone you, just to shake the tree a little, see what fell down. Then we waited.

And you opened the curtains. It wasn’t much but at least it was something. The next day I knew I’d hit the jackpot. Out you went for that first walk. The outside world is my medicine – one of your lines, by the way. Well, I knew it was going to be easy after that, as soon as I started to read your story.

You again – I leave the apartment in something of a trance. Exactly right, Jolyon, the sort of trance that meant you didn’t lock your door. So Dee followed you while I went through your things. I didn’t have long. You saw that airplane, HELL ONE, and Dee phoned me to say you were running back home.

But that was long enough to take some files from your computer, your precious story. And also long enough for me to see all those objects arranged around the place, your strange little reminders. Well, of course I remembered what they were right away. So there I was in your apartment, you running back, I had some of your files, and suddenly on a whim I decided to take away one of your glasses from the floor. After I left, I thought I’d been stupid, you were bound to notice. But actually that was the spark for the next stage. You didn’t notice at all. That’s when I knew what to do, when I realised just how far we could go.

Back across the street, I read your story. And it was clear how to begin. I had to get into your apartment on a regular basis and I had to rearrange your life. When it came to the final round I wanted you vulnerable, drugged, traumatised . . . Well, I achieved my goal, everything and more. And in the end, even that wasn’t enough.

Remember you wrote how you wanted to go outside but your water glasses stopped you. And then on that second day you were brave enough to go out for a walk. Well, at that point I thought, right, this is perfect. From here on I can do whatever I like while he’s out – read his words, do whatever I want with his mnemonics. So I waited. But you didn’t leave. And day four you didn’t go out either. Well, this started to worry me.

But you gave me the idea for my next trick yourself, Jolyon. Remember inserting a note into your story? Note to self: Must remember to place some trinket on the breakfast plate to remind me to breakfast al fresco.

So I thought, how about if I augment his sense that regular walks would do him the power of good? And then I got really brave. I decided to insert my own note into your story. Note to self: Remember to place your shoes on the bed, post-lunchtime walks, and so on and so forth.

And what happened next? Within a couple of days you had those sneakers in place with a reminder scrawled on their toes. It worked, I mean, it worked literally like a charm. And that was going to give me a lot more time in your place.

Then came the snag. Your next walk, you locked your door. I mean, come on, Jolyon, how to ruin the best-laid plans . . . And maybe you’d have kept on remembering to lock your door, who knows, you were writing about how you were getting stronger all the time. The boxer, the fighter, blah blah blah. I decided it was time to give the tree another shake.

That was the night your buzzer sounded. You answered the call and there was a woman screaming through the intercom for help. And it was such a dilemma for you. Gallant Jolyon at the parapet, the maiden in distress down below. I have to say, I was very disappointed in you. What if it had really been a maiden in need of your help instead of Dee? But never mind, halfway down the stairs gave me just long enough. I was a neighbour fumbling for keys. You passed me on the way down and I ran upstairs with my fingers crossed. And bam, in your panic you’d left the door unlocked. All I needed was a few seconds to plant the pill in the appropriate hollow of the ice-cube tray. And we’re not talking here about one of the varieties of drug that can be found in your own collection, Jolyon. No, this particular pill came from another family of pharmaceuticals altogether, a family not unknown to certain unpleasant and predatory males.