It was never the air that bothered me

“Everyone always complains about the city air, but it was never the air that bothered me. No, it wasn’t the air, but something in the air. It wasn’t tangible, nothing that I could taste or smell. To be completely honest I couldn’t even feel it most of the time, but it was there. Undeniably. As undeniable as knowing you’re being looked at. It’s not quite there, is it? Someone eyes could be drilling a hole in the back of your skull and you’d have no clue, but the feeling is still there. Then times that by a hundred and you might just figure out how it feels. 

When you’re being stared at and they stare back that’s something to hold onto. There’s safety in the knowledge of danger. It’s something for your senses, a gift to latch onto. And remember. The remembering is the tricky part, that’s where it all goes wrong, because it makes you anticipate, and it doesn’t always happen when you expect it, but it might. So, you sit, and think and wait. Alone. 

So anyway, that’s what made me move away from the city. It was all too stuffy, too… oh how do you say it? Too crowded? No. Too distant! Yes, that’s it. When you walk down a street it’s like no one’s really human. Everyone’s so empty minded, and so lost in their own thoughts, but so demanding too. If you accidently bump into someone, they looked at you like you just killed their dog, and god forbid you spill their coffee! The city really dehumanised them, and I think that’s what really pushed me. You know what I mean? It’s hard to feel bad when you don’t even see a human on the other side, just a piece of meat in a nice suit. 

The hills were such a nice change of pace. As much as it wasn’t the air that pushed me away from the city, the air in the hills definitely convinced me to stay. So clear and sharp. To be fair, when I came over in February it was absolutely freezing, but I didn’t mind. The little cottage had brilliant heated floors, and the baths were so big you could drown someone in them. 

I truly thought I had moved on, and that the next stage of my life was about to begin, but those pesky old habits die hard. 

I killed the old lady first. She lived opposite the butchers. By that point I had tea with her every week for about two months and I knew her quite well. Her name was Helen, she had two kids and 5 grandkids, but she said none of them ever visited so I figured no one would care to ask too many hard-hitting questions. She also had a nasty smoking addiction, she would never admit it to be an addiction, but my daddy taught me how to spot an addict, bless him. An old lady accidentally fell asleep with a lit cigarette? Absolute tragedy. This one felt different to the ones in London. I never got to properly know any of the ones from before the countryside. It was always two or three meetings max, before I got bored and just got the job done, but no I got to know Helen. We solved puzzles together, watched the telly in the afternoon, even had a mini book club for a few weeks in a row. Honestly, it was the most fun I have ever had, but it was also educational. The dehumanisation part made it all so bloody boring, getting to know Helen made it so much more thrilling! 

After Helen came Robert. Robert was a classics graduate struggling to find a job. He lived in a cottage his mother owned and paid the bills by working at the local library during the day and the pizza house at night. I’m pretty sure he wanted to sleep with me, but sadly for him I was 20 years his senior so nothing like that ever happened. Robert went rather quickly, which did worry me. I didn’t want anyone to ask too many questions too quickly, so I wrote a really convincing note and made sure there was a paper trail of Rob getting some rope at the local utilities store. I just wanted it done to be perfectly honest with you. 

Now, Nathan was the most interesting, and the most thought provoking, but I’m sure you can imagine considering the context. A 52-year-old widower, who outright refused to be with any other woman after his wife died, a true gentleman. I told myself that no matter what this one had to take at least a year, just to ease any suspicion, and I really hit the jackpot. 6 months into it I felt like I was actually married. Candle lit dinners, walks by the river and absolutely no sex. He spoke about his wife a lot, which I didn’t mind, your mum did sound like an interesting woman. She loved dogs, taught physics at a university and adored fox hunting. I must say, it did make me think less of her. Barbaric sport, if you ask me. Anyway, our little platonic affair went on for quite a while, but at a certain point I felt like I had reached a plateau with your dad. He was sweet, but predictable, and very quiet. Very standard, and probably very nice to grow old with, but not at all the ending I’m looking for. I did feel like I owed him a little something though, because of how sweet he was so this one was a direct job. Of course, I wore the proper attire and made sure to clear up any irregularities that could lead this to me. I came a little early, and prepared whilst he was in the shower, then when he came out, I was as honest and blunt as I could possibly be. He deserved that much.  

But yes, your dad really taught me that it wasn’t the city that was holding me back, it was just the lack of connection. All this time made me realise I really miss the city with all my heart. The busy roads, the hectic coffee shops, endless exploration and as many new people as the heart desires, but all that just wasn’t enough if I had no one to share it with. A true connection made the intangible danger fade into irrelevance. I truly believe that all the pressure of city life could be counteracted by simply having someone by your side. 

I’m also very grateful to you, Alice. You really made this very easy for me. Disowned daughter comes back to fight for her inheritance, but when push comes to shove, she loses her temper. She was never a good girl; she never held down a job and after her mum went, she was just never the same. Distraught at what she did to her poor beloved dad she felt like she couldn’t cope with it anymore, so she burnt the house to a crisp. This little town really has a thing for fires. 

I’ll hear about this and I’ll be absolutely petrified at my old friend’s tragic death. Of course, I’m not here. I haven’t been here for a good few months now, and the only trace of our planned dinner was a letter, telling Nathan I’ll be popping in for a day and I’ll stop by at our usual tea time just like the good old days, but that’s been taken care of now. The train ticket was booked under a different name, I must have changed my wig and outfit at least 5 times between London and here. When I heard you were in town, I thought the plan was really going to go up in flames (Ha! Ha!), but no, you were the last piece of the puzzle I needed, and I’m very grateful for that. 

Anyway, I think I can untie you now. The sleeping pills should really be kicking in, and the fire should have gotten going in the kitchen by now so I should really be heading out. I suppose you just didn’t want to feel in your last few moments. It’s fair enough really, after all the horrid things you did here. The town will never recover from its little tragedy. 

I’ll be going now. I really just miss the London air.”