The paramedic moved to the doorway and, giving me a polite nod, closed the doors. The sirens blared and blue lights filled my vision as the ambulance moved carefully up the driveway.

I looked around, trying to locate someone I knew to try and grasp some idea of what the hell was going on, but all I saw were officials and discarded Christmas decorations thrown on the perfectly landscaped, hilled lawn. With no other avenues to explore, I moved towards the front door.

Before I could reach it, two policemen came out of the main entrance, struggling with a bloodied and heavily beaten man in handcuffs. He had fair hair and was tall with a stocky build. He looked (at least from what I could make out) to be in his mid-to-late fifties and he was limping on his right foot. He exuded an air of malice; it was practically pulsing around him. I instinctively wrapped my arms around myself as he passed.

As the police officers struggled to drag the fighting man to the car, he caught sight of me watching and smiled, his mouth full of blood, droplets dripping crimson on his stubbly chin. I felt violated from his grin alone.

He began to laugh, making me shiver and I backed away. "Well, if it isn't Tudor's bitch!"

I gasped. He knew me? I was scared now, and in fear I stepped back several more feet as the police seemed to lose their grip and had to wrestle to restrain him. He met my gaze straight on, eyes narrowing. "Now, where have you been, little girl? I've been looking for you everywhere this past week but no-one was home. Pity really, you look positively delectable in person," he licked his lips, lapping on his own blood, causing my skin to crawl.

My head span and my heart pounded. I wasn’t breathing. He'd been following me? He knew where I lived? Who was he? A stalker? A crazed fan? I couldn't speak through fear. The leer on his face was pure evil. He cocked his head and spat a mouthful of blood at my feet, making me retch.

He laughed at my reaction and tried to lean forwards. "The denial statement was good, by the way, but I knew it was bullshit. I was here, watching, waiting. I was going to finish what I started years ago before that bastard mistake of mine stopped me, stopped me from what I am entitled to do – she’s mine to play with however I wish. You were going to be the icing on the cake, the guilt would’ve killed him. But hey, there's always next time, and there will be a next time. Make no mistake about that!" he threatened as he was hauled into the back of a police car, the police officer apologising as he walked past.

As the patrol car pulled away, the man was staring at me out if the window, smiling all the time until they were out of sight, leaving me standing alone in the snow.

Breathe, Tash. There must be an explanation for all this whacked-out, Stanley Kubrick madness. Don’t vomit, keep it together… Pamela said Tudor needs you.

My inner monologue was broken by noises coming from inside the mansion. I commanded my feet to head towards the house as fast as I could. Henry, Tudor's brother, and Samantha, his wife, were sitting on the stairs directly in front of the large oak door.

Samantha was crying hysterically and Henry was as still as a statue, staring at nothing, as pale as a ghost. The door to the left of them was shut, but the crashing and banging noises emanating from behind it were loud and unyielding. I came to a halt, unsure of what to do next.

Henry noticed me first, shock clear on his face. "Natasha, what are you doing here?"

Samantha lifted her head and wiped the tears from her face. I flinched as something cracked against the wall on the other side of the door. Henry dragged a hand through his long, shaggy hair. "He's in there, we can't calm him down. I think you had better leave him a while. We can explain everything later."

“He told you about us.” I said softly. Not a question, but a statement.

Samantha stood beside me rubbing my arm. “He did. You made him very happy while it lasted.” she delivered with a tight smile. I swallowed the lump in my throat. He had told his family after all.

“Tash, just go and come back later, please.” Henry pushed once more.

I shook my head. I knew Tudor needed me, and I wasn’t going anywhere. I was nothing if not stubborn (thank you, Scottish genes!). "I want to see him," I whispered.

Henry groaned and turned away, sitting back on the stairs. Samantha touched my shoulder lightly. "He's struggling to rein it in, Natasha, it's probably best to wait a while. Tudor had to deal with everything that happened today. Again. It’s too much."

Still absolutely none the wiser as to what had actually happened, I hugged her quickly before walking towards the door, the three-inch piece of wood that stood between me and whatever was happening on the other side.