They say your life flashes by your eyes when you know you’re going to die. Well I don’t know about that. What I do know is that your brain slows to a standstill for a fraction of a second and then it leaps into action. In my case very loud, very manic, totally unplanned action.

“Selvin!” I yelled at the top of my voice. “Selvin Cupido!” I waved my hands in the dark.

His head jerked in my direction and in that flash of a moment Peter Cho exploded into action. Kapow! A straight-legged kick and the gun flew out of Selvin’s hand and clattered onto the floor.

Kaboom! A kick to the leg and Selvin sank to his knees.

Kersquish! A jab to the flab of his belly and Selvin fell back, winded. He scrabbled around on the floor for his gun.

“Ow!” One of his prisoners bit his ankle. “Ow! Ow!” The second one wriggled forward and sank her teeth into his calf.

Kerswoosh! I threw Peter Cho’s sweatshirt over Selvin’s head. He lay still.

Four angry teenagers versus one chubby, balding, almost-40-year-old man. He didn’t stand a chance. Peter picked up the pistol and trained it at his head.

“Keep him there, Peter,” I whispered. And then I realised: no need for silence any more. I flipped on the switch. Light glared into the room. Peter and I looked at each other, horrified. Councillor Selvin Cupido wasn’t going to be winning any health and safety awards any time soon. Not to mention that the large stain spreading around his crotch was adding to the strong smell of pee.

“Monster,” I said quietly. “Sadistic pig.” I wanted to kick him, pound his head to a pulp. Make him beg for mercy the way Melissa must have done all those years before. Instead I turned on my heel, walked down the hall and called the police.

*****

There was so much DNA evidence in the house that Selvin couldn’t worm his way out of a conviction. He crumbled. Told the police everything.

Get this. Selvin Cupido has been perving over me for the last year. Because I look so much Melissa, apparently. She was his first kill. And I was the one who was going to bring things full circle. He had to get me before he could start on his next cycle. Creepy? That doesn’t begin to describe it. No wonder Melissa came back. She had to warn me. Reach out from the grave and make us listen to her. All I can say is, I’m glad they have solid evidence and a solid confession. They want me to testify and I’ll be there, telling my story loud and strong. I want that man behind bars for a long, long time.

Mr Cupido knew what his son was doing. Tried to stop him, but he couldn’t. And nor would he hand him over to the police. Instead he shared my family’s misery. Looked on in horror when his son came back from yet another trip to the vacant plot on the road where Peter met Melissa. The plot belonged to old man Cupido, and he knew how it was being used. For deep graves, dug in the dead of night. Melissa’s body was there, and so many others.

Now this bit’s beyond creepy: Mr Cupido also used the plot to plant vegetables. Tomatoes, butternut, potatoes… I know, you’re thinking baskets of fresh veggies, right? I don’t want to go there. Really. Let’s just say I’m into protein and carbs at the moment. Anyway that gave them an excuse to fence the plot off – to keep people from stealing their crops. Looks like Selvin planted young girls as well as leeks and lettuce. There were nine bodies in total. Some of them were too decomposed to identify, but Melissa’s body was wrapped like a mummy. Selvin was a sick bastard.

So the father was guilty, just as guilty as the son. Oupi and Ouma are having a hard time coming to terms with that.

They’re angry with me too. “You could have got yourself killed,” Oupi keeps saying. But then his face cracks in a smile and he pulls me close for a hug. “My brave girl.”

Peter Cho and I often sit on Melissa’s bench. But we don’t spend too much time going over the details of what happened that night. We’re too busy talking, getting to know each other properly, like adding a purple belt in ju-jitsu to the list of things I’ve discovered about my boyfriend. He knows all about Mom and how I haven’t seen her since I was tiny. I’m slowly getting him used to the idea that we’ll be studying together at UCT next year. Drama for me. Something to do with physics and outer space for him.

I lean my head on his shoulder and look up at the stars, clear in the cold winter sky. There’s one that shines brighter than all the rest. Some people call it Sirius. We call it Melissa’s Star.

***

Tell us what you think: Do you believe you can get help or messages from people who have passed on?

The End