And it was all my fault.
The world changed.
It happened in an instant, but it felt like an age as my mind swirled with everything I had just gone through. Running from the screechers. My battle with the Beast. Discovering that Ameena wasn’t real – had never been real. But through it all one thought loomed larger than all the others.
My dad. A tape recorder. A bang from the tinny speaker as he shot and murdered my mum. His face, smiling at me. Leering, laughing.
And then an explosion inside of me. A rage, like nothing I had ever felt before. He had killed my mum. He had made me listen to her dying screams. And then he had run away.
But no matter how fast he ran, it would never be fast enough. I was coming for him. This, finally, would be the end.
Shadows engulfed me as I arrived in the Darkest Corners, the Hell-like alternate reality where all forgotten imaginary friends go. The world I’d left behind had been blanketed by snow, but here the ground was awash with filth and stagnant puddles.
The buildings around me were the same, but different. These were crumbling relics of those back in the real world, all boarded-up windows or burned-out shells. They were barely visible in the faint glow of the moon.
I spun on the spot, searching for any sign of my dad. He’d had only a few seconds’ head start, so he should have been somewhere close by. I peered into the gloom, trying to find him, but a sharp cry from behind made me turn.
Something skinny and rodent-like bounded towards me on spindly legs. Its tongue flicked hungrily over two sharp teeth and its beady eyes glistened in the darkness.
Back in my world I had unique abilities – abilities that would make dealing with a creature like this child’s play. I could conjure up a machine gun, or a chainsaw, or simply imagine the thing out of existence. I could do all that back there. Here I was powerless.
But I was too angry to care.
The rodent pounced and I was ready for it. I ducked to the side and made a grab for a rock on the ground. As the monster rounded on me I drove the grapefruit-sized stone against the side of its head. It went down with a squeal, and the rage that had brought me here tightened its grip round my chest.
I brought the rock down once more on the creature’s head. It squealed again. I kept going, kept hitting until the monster fell silent. My breath came in unsteady gulps as I stood there, staring down at the dead thing in the dirt. My eyes crept to my hand, and to the blood-soaked rock it held.
I looked down once more at the creature and told myself I’d had no option. It or me. That had been the only choice.
I dropped the rock. I turned away. And I saw my dad.
He was standing in a sliver of moonlight just twenty metres away. Close enough for me to see the grin on his face. Had he been smiling when he killed my mum? That was something for me to ask him when I was choking the life from his body.
‘Good work, kiddo,’ he called over. ‘I always said I’d make a killer out of you some day.’
I ran at him, no thought in my head but the need for revenge. No emotions left inside me but hatred and rage. His smile broadened, and I loathed him even more.
‘Not so fast,’ he said, and the darkness around me shifted as if alive. Something snaked across my path and snagged my feet. I fell hard, clattering against the cracked tarmac and rolling to a stop.
Shapes emerged from the shadows on all sides of me. Monstrous figures and grotesque, deformed faces loomed down. The things in the darkness all looked different. There was nothing to link them to one another, aside from the hatred that burned in their eyes.
I tried to get up, but whatever had tripped me now held my feet together, keeping me from moving.
Shoes scuffed on the road. I looked up and saw my dad stop beside me. He was still smiling as he shook his head and made a soft tutting noise below his breath.
‘Too easy,’ he said. ‘You’ll never get to me like that.’
‘Kill you,’ I said, half sobbing. ‘I’ll kill you.’
He looked at the circle of freaks surrounding us. ‘Hear that?’ he said. ‘My boy’s going to kill me.’
The figures began to snuffle and snort with laughter. Someone behind me let out a high-pitched giggle. A memory of hearing it before stirred at the back of my head, but then was gone.
My dad looked down at me again. ‘You’re not going to kill me, kiddo. You can’t kill me. At least,’ he gestured around him, ‘not here.’
His knees cricked as he squatted down beside my head. He stroked my hair. I pushed his hands away and the night was filled with that laughter again.
‘It’s been a long road, son,’ he said. ‘You’ve worked hard, but it’s almost over. You’re almost done. The barrier between this world and yours is almost gone. One more big push should do it. One more big push and your world is replaced by this one.’
He straightened up. ‘But you can’t push it from here. You need to go back there. Use those abilities of yours. Do something spectacular. And then it’ll all be over.’
I gritted my teeth. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
His smile widened further until it was nothing but teeth. ‘Wrong,’ he said, then he drew back his foot and a jolt of pain snapped back my head.
‘Come on. Come on, wake up!’
My body and brain roused together. There were hands on my shoulders. I lunged forward, brushing them off and grabbing for whoever had touched me.
My hands found Billy’s windpipe and forced him backwards into the snow. Billy had been the hardest boy in my school once upon a time. Back when I’d been trying to stop Caddie and Raggy Maggie, he’d even stuck a knife into my stomach.
And now here he was, pinned beneath me, his eyes shimmering with panic, his breath stuck halfway down his throat. My hands twitched. I could squeeze, pay him back for the years of misery he’d inflicted on me. I could squeeze, and I could keep squeezing.
But Billy had changed. Or maybe Billy had stayed the same, and I was the one who was different. Whatever, he wasn’t a threat to anyone any more. He’d helped stop the Beast. Impossible as it seemed, he and I were on the same side these days.
I relaxed my grip, then removed my hands from his throat. ‘Sorry,’ I said, my voice hoarse. He gave a bug-eyed nod in return and gingerly rubbed his throat.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he croaked, and we helped each other up out of the snow.
The body of the Beast still lay motionless on the ground, its blood pinkening the snow around it. I forced myself to think of it in those terms – an “it”, a “thing”, because the reality was too terrible to consider. I didn’t want to remember what – or rather who – the Beast had once been.
But it had saved me, and that told me the person it once was had still been in there somewhere, buried deep down beneath the scales and the claws and the slavering jaws.
The other beast, the one that had started the whole nightmare off, was nowhere to be seen. We’d killed it, the three of us together – Billy, Ameena and me – but now it was gone. It was no great surprise. I’d learned from Mr Mumbles that if you killed anything from the Darkest Corners when