Whisky Chaser

Christ! I can hear his mad breathing behind me.

Run. Look ahead, dark trees; find one to climb? Dodge left, left again.
Legs can't keep this up. Stop behind tree. Look back, where is the man
with the wild eyes?

Must stay dead still.

Christ, I'm afraid he'll kill me. He had something glinting in his
hand, a poker or knife or something.

He has stopped too, I'm sure of it.

Think back. Introduced to him by whatsisname. Craggy face, fleeting
expressions, manic, but not murderous, no sign of recognition. Stood
next to the fire. Photo of Mary's daughter on wall behind. He sipped
mulled wine, I had whisky.

Violent breathing, must calm it. Blood thumping in neck. Chest hurts.
He must be breathing the same. Darkness.

His eyes, at the party, staring at me. How did he know? I'm sure he'd
never seen my face. Wide white eyes, across the room. Could Mary have
told him? He looked frightened, dumbstruck. Like her.

Freezing air, hot body, prickly sweat. Eyes streaming, skull throbbing.
Feel like I have a knife in my head. I can't hear him: he's listening
for me.

I couldn't stay in the room but I was mad to run. He just came after
me. Think. Saw him talking to Tim, Mary's widower. Pointing to the
photo.

Fireworks. Must be midnight. Christ, he'll see me in the flashes.

Tim told him? Who told Tim? It couldn't have been Mary because I'd
already killed her.