I slam my foot on the brake and the car skids to a halt. I check my rear-view mirror and try to steady my breath. I turn off the engine and the car lights, hoping I’ll disappear.

 

The moonlight is bright, but the long inky shadows of the surrounding trees provide the cover I need.

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I grab my backpack off the passenger seat and get out of the car. I listen for the sound of vehicles coming up the road and sweat trickles down my back. Certain no one is watching, I dart into the park and weave between the towering trees that loom over me like giants that roam the land. I curse as branches break underfoot and the sound of bats overhead makes my skin crawl.

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I arrive at the clearing but hang back and wait for the signal like I do every week. I check my phone—9:29 p.m.

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When will this madness end?

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I swipe at a mozzie that’s determined to get its feed.

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When this is over, when things go back to normal, maybe I’ll laugh at how ridiculous this is. If I ever have kids, and they have kids, perhaps I’ll tell them it was something I had to do. There was no other choice.

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On the other side of the park, past the children’s slide, a light blinks three times—this is it.

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I look around and flash the light on my phone in response.

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A dark hooded figure scurries across the damp overgrown lawn, and I flash my light once more.

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The figure reaches me.

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I step back into the trees and wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

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As they pull back the hood of their sweatshirt, I let out a cry.

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A hand is pushed against my mouth. Eyes glare at me, but the face is covered by a black ski mask. ‘Quiet Emily, it’s me!’ The hand over my mouth is removed, and they pull off their disguise.

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‘Rachel?’

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My dealer shakes out her short brown hair.

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‘What’s with the ski mask? You scared me!’

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‘I figured I just need to be more careful. I can’t afford to get caught.’

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I pull out a fifty-dollar note from my jean pocket. ‘Have you got it?’

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Rachel nods, takes the money, and opens the bag that’s slung across her shoulder. ‘I can’t meet next week, so I got you two.’ Rachel hands me the items and puts her ski mask back on.

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‘Why can’t you meet next week?’

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‘I have to go, I’ll be in touch, I promise.’ Rachel pulls up the hood of her sweatshirt and disappears across the lawn.

​

I sigh, pull off my backpack, and shove the toilet rolls inside.

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The End

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© Michelle Upton

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