Tallie has always been normal. Just a girl at school living with her mum.
But that's all changing now.
After her mother was murdered, and the murderer never charged, she took matters of law into her own young hands. But it all went wrong. She's got to escape before everyone realises the crime she's commited. Living in a hut on a deserted moorland is her only option. Until David arrives.
He can help her; he's a police man, the only one on her side. Soon Tallie is deeply in love with David, but is he all he says to be? Or is he in fact the very man she is running from?


19. The shack

It's been two hours in the shack. David went out a few minutes ago, to his job. I'm shivering all over and I don't even know why. I think I'm scared.

Scared of David.

No, scratch that, scared of what David wants. It could be anything. I don't want to trust him, I know he isn't quite right, but even so, I'm sort of lost in him. I can't forget him, can't escape his clutch.

I pick up my suitcase, unzip it and fish out a small notebook. I was going to write useful things in it, but instead I think it'll be my diary. I desperately need to write this stuff down, to remember everything that's been happening.

Which is a lot.

I just can't believe he had to be a police man, I mean, come on! He could've chosen any other job, but he chose that one. Another thing - why is he living in a shack when he earns enough to live in a perfectly nice house? He doesn't even splash out on what's in here; there are leaks in the roof and the wood's starting to rot on the outside. It is better than my rubbish old tent though.

My life is freaking me out right now. I so wish I had never met David. No, wait, I wish I had never killed the postman. In fact, I wish my mother had never been murdered in the flippin' first place!

Why does it all have to be so unfair?

David seems overly into me for someone who's barely met me. He spent the last couple of hours telling me how amazing I was. The thing that's the most unfair out of all of this, is that I want to be with David. Because I don't love him, but I do like him.  Like like him.

At least I'll have plenty to write in the diary, which reminds me, I need to start that.

I'll do it now. Picking it up, I grab a pen that David left on the sideboard-thing when he went out and open up the first page.

The paper is a sweet, creamy white and the pen appears to be a good-quality fountain pen. Two things that really go together.

I put the pen down to the page and mark my first words.

Dear Diary...


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