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Saturday morning usually consists of grocery shopping. Today is no exception. While at the supermarket, I pick up some flowers for my grave. I know that the coffin may only contain lead weights, but it symbolises the end of my old life, and the start of a new era.

I feel it’s important to keep up appearances and that it is only right and proper to pay visits to the churchyard. It also gives me time to reflect and spend some time alone. I have always liked disappearing for a while and simply enjoying the outdoors. I have spent many an afternoon down by the river, usually cross-dressed for stress relief.

This time I am keeping things simple. I’m wearing a black skirt, black nylons and sensible black shoes. Heels would not work very well walking over the grass near the grave. I have on a black blouse and my thin navy blue fleece. I am carrying the flowers cradled in my arms and have my fleece pockets full with a pair of garden scissors and a small bottle of water.

As I come round the corner of the church, I see someone kneeling at my grave. As I am approaching from behind, I can’t recognise them, so I take a brief look at their face with remote vision. My friend Tracy is knelt down on the ground at the foot of the grave, looking at the marker.

There is no gravestone yet. We can’t erect one for six months, as we have to let the ground settle before it can be placed. Until then there is a simple wooden cross with ‘D. Palmer’ carved into it. At the foot of the cross is a stone flower vase. The current flowers need replacing, hence the bunch I am presently holding.

There is a line of trees going through the churchyard, under which there are a number of benches. I sit down on a bench a few rows from where my former self is supposedly buried. Tracy is obviously here to pay her respects, so I keep my distance for a while, waiting for her to finish.

Tracy is clearly sobbing and seems unaware of my presence. She is whispering something, but I don’t try to listen in, even though she is effectively talking to me.

The sky is overcast and it soon begins to rain. Tracy seems not to notice that she is getting wet. I look over at her concerned. She’s shivering and not attempting to move to cover. I walk over and crouch beside her, keeping both of us dry with an umbrella that I have been carrying.

“Tracy, are you all right? You’re getting cold and wet. It’s more sheltered on the bench, would to care to join me?” I help her to her feet and we return to where I have been sitting. I move the flowers out of the way and we both sit down under the umbrella. The seat has yet to get wet, as it is being protected by a tree.

Tracy sits on the bench shivering. She is only wearing a lightweight cotton top so I take off my fleece and wrap it around her shoulders. She currently needs it more than me. I put my arm round her back and she lays her head on my shoulder. We sit for five minutes, huddled together under the umbrella.

Tracy is very upset, but I am not sure why. She didn’t seem this distressed when at my funeral, and I get the impression that something else is bothering her. I know she doesn’t get on with her family, and that her lactose intolerance has been playing up.

The shower eases off and stops. I pick up the flowers and make my way to the grave. I leave Tracy sitting on the bench for a minute, with my fleece. I take the flowers out of the wrapping and arrange them in the vase, cutting the stalks to length. Taking the small packet of cut plant feed provided in the packaging, I pour it in between the flowers and top the vase up with water from my bottle. I collect the rubbish, depositing it into a nearby bin before returning to sit next to Tracy.

“That’s much nicer. Yellow carnations were David’s favourite flowers,” I state, trying to make conversation. I then ask, “Are you feeling better? A good cry often helps clear the air. I know he wouldn’t have wanted to upset you if he could have avoided it. David didn’t have many friends, but I know he regarded you as one of his closest companions.”

I really only had three close friends as David. After Susan, I regard Tracy as my next most trusted friend. I also like Mary, but we were never as close. Neither Mary nor Tracy ever knew my secret identity, and in some respects, I regret never opening up to them. I could still reveal my secret if I choose to, and have already discussed the idea with Susan. I will do so without hesitation if it will help ease the grief. However, to do so now could risk greater hurt for the lie I have been persisting against them.

“Any friend of David’s is a friend of mine. I know you hardly know me, but I think we will get on fine. I have the same weird sense of humour as David, it runs in our family,” I smile at Tracy, trying to get her to lighten her mood. It fails, instead more tears fall down her cheeks.

“What’s the matter Tracy?” I ask again. “It helps to talk. David made that mistake by not coming out to his family earlier. The last few weeks were his happiest as he finally started living as the girl he dreamt of after all those years of hiding. You can trust me, I promise.”

I am getting seriously worried now. Tracy has a distant sad look upon her face. The only time I have seen that before was when Dwain was sitting on the roof of the school. He had a similar expression before I pulled him from the edge. I don’t like how Tracy is acting, she is not paying any attention to her well-being, still shivering with my fleece around her, oblivious to the changing weather conditions.

Finally, she starts to respond to my prompts. “Thank you, you have been most kind.” Tracy is speaking so softly I have to listen carefully to what she is saying. “I could use a good friend about now. However, I know that you will soon hate me, along with the rest of my former friends.”

She breaks down in tears again. I hug her and whisper in her ear, “Whatever you think you have done, don’t underestimate the power of friendship. Tell me what the problem is, I promise I won’t get angry with you.”

Tracy takes a deep breath before looking me in the eye. “I came here to beg forgiveness. I never meant to hurt David, but I don’t have any options left. I’m pregnant. I have named David as the father.”

I wasn’t expecting that as an answer. I thought that perhaps she was feeling guilty over some involvement in my death. This is a totally unexpected development and I’m not sure of what to make of it. I’m still a virgin. If she is pregnant, then it isn’t by my doing.

“In that case, what are you doing in a middle of a graveyard freezing your butt off? You have a baby to think about, so you need to make your own health top priority. Come on, I’m taking you home.”

“No!” Tracy shouts at me, “I can’t go back there.” There is a scared look on her face. Her sudden panic tells me a lot about what is going on. Someone is responsible for getting her pregnant and she has named me as the father. There are only two reasons I can think of for her lying. Either she is protecting somebody, or she’s scared of whoever is responsible, possibly both. I suspect that the latter is the case.

“Don’t panic, I was thinking of my house, not yours. Come, it’s only a short distance.” I know that Tracy has misinterpreted me, as she has never been to my residence. Tracy doesn’t have transport, and we live several miles away, so we normally meet up with our friends in town or at their houses. On the few occasions any of them have been round before, it’s always been to Susan’s home.

We slowly walk back to my house. On arrival, I bring her in through the front door. As we enter, I call out. “Hi Dad, we have company.” This is a precaution in case he says something inappropriate. He pokes his head out from the kitchen to look at us.

I still have my arm round Tracy and I can feel her tense up. “I need a favour. Tracy here is very upset. Can you give us some space while we talk?”

My father takes the hint. “I think Richard wants some help cleaning his garage, I will be back later. Would you like me to send Susan down here?”

I nod and he heads off down the road out of our way. I bring Tracy into the kitchen and put the kettle on for some hot chocolate. I get three cups out of the cupboard and put the chocolate powder in while I wait for the kettle to boil.

Turning to Tracy I tell her, “Don’t worry about Susan, let me explain what is going on. Everything will be all right.”

Susan enters through the back door, and joins Tracy at the table, asking, “What’s up?”

“I found Tracy crying at David’s grave,” I tell Susan. I place three cups of hot chocolate on the table, sit down next to Tracy, and put my arm round her again. “She has confided that she’s pregnant, and that David is the father. I always assumed David died a virgin, it seems I was wrong.”

Tracy won’t have noticed the significance of the last sentence. Susan on the other hand looks me in the eye, well aware that I have just accused Tracy of outright lying.

Susan asks, “Are you certain, and who else knows?”

“I went to the doctors yesterday after school, and he confirmed it. Then he called my parents and they contacted the police. I had to tell them who the father was, as it’s statutory rape of a minor.” Tracy starts to cry again while sipping her cocoa.

“David isn’t the father, is he?” I ask softly. “You were so scared that you had to name somebody and David is no longer around to be hurt by the accusation. I am going to take a guess here. I think you didn’t willingly have sex, and that somebody close to you, possibly one of your family, has raped you. You were panicked earlier when you thought I was taking you home.”

Tracy says nothing. Susan looks at us both, worried.

“You are safe now, you don’t have to worry, nobody can harm you,” Susan states, “I’m sure that you could live with either me or Jenny should the need arise. Now tell us who did this to you so we can nail the bastard.”

“It’s Damien, my brother,” Tracy finally confesses, “The bastard first raped me last month after getting drunk. He keeps threatening to blow my brains out in the middle of the night if I tell anybody. Since then he has forced me to do his bidding at least twice a week ever since. He was there staring at me last night. I had to lie or he would have killed me.”

Tracy breaks down completely, slumping forward onto the kitchen table sobbing.

“Nobody threatens my friends and gets away with it!” I state forcibly, banging my fist onto the table.

Susan looks at me alarmed, “Don’t do anything stupid, think this through. Last time you let your anger get out of control you nearly strangled Dwain and almost drove him to suicide. Your last fight almost killed you, you’re not indestructible.”

This catches Tracy’s attention. She looks up at us, puzzled.

“This time I make sure it’s the right person, and I’m not doing this alone. Tom and Robert owe me a favour,” I reply, “come with me, I have a plan.”

I lead Susan and Tracy through to the front room. Having sat them both down on one of the couches, I lie on the other and project into the room as Tracy. For effect, I start out occupying the same space as my physical body and rise up out of myself.

“You won’t be going home until Damien is safely in jail,” I state, much to Tracy’s surprise, “I can be the perfect doppelganger. If I take your place, Damien can do what he likes to this projection, and we are perfectly safe. My projections are as indestructible as I choose to make them.”

“Last time you got into a fight you ended up in a coma for a week!” Susan shouts at me.

“That had nothing to do with getting stabbed. It was because I had to maintain the projection of my body through a crime scene investigation and post-mortem. If I ended the projection as soon as the knife was in my neck, there wouldn’t have been a problem. This time I will have back up and it won’t matter if I suddenly disappear.”

“Wait, you’re saying David’s death was faked?” Tracy asks, “He’s still alive?”

“I’m David, it’s a long story,” I declare, morphing my projection into my old self, “Susan can fill you in while I go make some arrangements for kicking some butt on your behalf.” I head for the phone.

I soon locate Robert Turner. He is on the local golf course partnering Tom Millward. After explaining the situation, I persuade them to carry out my plan. They are equally appalled at Damien’s behaviour. Mr Turner asks me if I am sure I want to do this, as I could end up getting raped or attacked.

I have been speaking to Robert Turner. However, he cautions me that I will be giving away clues to my identity by involving Chief Millward.

At this point I trust Tom Millward enough that I am willing to risk him finding out who I am.

I project myself up the street to my uncle’s house to inform my father of the situation. He returns home bringing Aunt Janice with him. I head into town with my father and Tracy. He drives us to Mr Turner’s office, where he is waiting. I dress again in the burka before Chief Millward arrives in the same van as we used for the visit to Alison. Accompanying him are the police officers who interviewed Tracy last night. Tracy tells the officers the truth about her ordeal.

I position myself on the mattress in the van and project myself once again as Tracy. This time I am wired up with miniature cameras and microphones to record the events. The plan is for me to head home as Tracy and see if Damien does anything.

Tracy is going to be watching from the van so that she can give me any information I need. I am not wearing an earpiece, as they are difficult to hide. I am therefore relying on my remote hearing to listen to instructions from the van.

The van is parked a block away from Tracy’s house and I complete the journey on foot. I head in the front door using Tracy’s key. Damien is the only person home and is sat on the couch playing computer games on a console. I discreetly deposit a camera on the windowsill where it can get a good view of the room, while at the same time initially being out of his sight.

I sit in a chair to the side of where he is. “Where is Mom and Pops?” I ask.

Damien grins at me menacingly, “Out visiting Gran and Gramps. No doubt they will be so upset when they learn their granddaughter is a slut.”

“Not half as much as when they learn the truth about their grandson,” I calmly reply. Looking him directly in the eye, I smile at him sweetly. “I have a hospital appointment tomorrow so that a cell sample from the foetus can be taken to conduct a paternity test.”

Damien throws the games controller to the floor and comes towards me. Grabbing my arm, he pulls me to my feet. With his face only a few inches from my own, he snarls at me. “You think you can blackmail me, bitch? You do what I say.”

We are stood face to face, his fingers digging into my arm where he is still holding me. Damien shoves his other hand down the front of my jeans and starts to rub and probe me with his fingers.

“I end up in the slammer, and several of my friends will enjoy ramming themselves into that tight little pussy of yours. They won’t be as caring and tender as me, little sister.”

“Take your hand out of my panties you incestuous pervert,” I angrily reply, slapping him hard in the face, sending his head sideways and leaving a large red handprint on his cheek.

Damien throws me to ground. I land face down and he jumps on my back.

“I will get you for that, bitch!” he shouts as he pins me to the ground while attempting to rip my jeans off. Both my arms are pinned under my body. However, I soon rectify that by making my arms travel through my body until they are free. I grab his gonads with my hand and squeeze until he cries out in pain.

Damien rolls off me onto his back. I quickly jump to my feet and try to run for the door, but he kicks my feet out from under me. I land on the floor again as he reaches under the couch. I am getting up again when I hear the distinctive sound of a revolver being cocked.

“What’s the matter Sis? Did you forget about Big Bertha? I thought you liked her cold caress inside of you?” Damien laughs at me while pointing a large revolver in my direction.

The police have been making their way to my assistance and to arrest Damien, however I am now remotely hearing calls to hold back. Tom Millward instructs me to disarm him. I am immune to bullets, but his officers are not. I nod my head slightly to denote I have heard the message, while at the same time not alerting Damien that there is anything amiss.

“You fancy adding murder to the charges against you?” I ask. “You can’t possibly get away with killing me. Give up before you give yourself the death penalty Bro.”

“Rapists don’t last long in prison, especially ones who bang their own underage sisters. I don’t have anything to lose and I can be long gone before the police arrive,” he coldly states. “Now I think it’s time for you and me to take a drive. Co-operate and I will drop you out in the countryside. You will have a long walk, but you will live. Any more crap and I pull the trigger.”

Damien slowly gets to his feet while keeping me in his sights. I cautiously stand. We are a few feet apart, and in clear view of the camera that I planted earlier. There is now enough video evidence for several offences.

“Walk to the garage and get in the trunk of my car,” Damien instructs, waving the gun at me and indicating that I should head through the kitchen. I consider my options then walk slowly as directed. I will let him lock me in the trunk, and then I will be free to appear when and where I choose.

Arriving in the garage, I open and climb in the trunk. Damien watches from a distance. The garage is double width and his car is on the far side, while the other bay is empty. Once I am safely curled up, he comes over and slams the trunk shut, locking me inside. We are now out of sight of the surveillance equipment I left in the lounge and the second wire is now locked in the trunk of the car. I end my projection and keep watch remotely as he decocks the revolver.

Damien is carefully making his firearm safe, holding it out in front of him. As soon as the weapon can no longer discharge accidentally, I appear beside him, as Lieutenant Scudder, the driver of our van, holding a police baton. I rapidly bring the baton down onto his hands knocking the revolver to the floor and smashing his fingers in the process. The gun clatters to the ground, and in one fluid motion, I spin through 360 degrees and the baton connects with the centre of his back. As he is bending forward, his spine is exposed and there is a loud crack as the baton strikes bone.

I kick the revolver under the car out of reach, as Damien collapses to the floor in agony. Seeing that he is now disabled, possibly in more than one sense of the word, I open the garage and wave the other officers forward who enter and quickly handcuff Damien.

I advise them to call for an ambulance, and then head outside and round the side of the house, out of sight. I re-project myself into the trunk of the car as Tracy, then bang on the lid and shout to attract attention. I am released from captivity and led back to the van where Chief Millward is waiting for me.

An ambulance has been on standby nearby and is on the scene within minutes. We drive back to the police station while I explain in detail what has happened.

I fully admit my actions in attacking Damien. I point out that the injuries inflicted were not fatal and were aimed to disarm and render harmless. If I wanted to kill him then I could have appeared behind him with a knife and slit his throat. My reasoning for my methods was that if the police, or me pretending to be an officer, were to order him to put the revolver down at gunpoint, then he would have opted for a shoot out.

While not totally pleased with having a potentially crippled criminal on their hands, they reluctantly agree that my actions were justified given the circumstances. The official report of the arrest would indicate that Tracy went in to confront her brother while wearing a wire. This would be supported by the video evidence.

Lieutenant Scudder is reluctantly ordered to say that he was first on scene having sneaked through the house and disarmed Damien with his baton.

On arrival, Tracy is taken inside to an interview room. Mr and Mrs Spencer, Tracy’s parents, are already at the station when we arrive. They were stopped from entering the street as Damien was being carted away to hospital, and escorted to our location.

I remotely watch Tracy’s interview room as there is a tearful reunion of mother and daughter. The police then begin to interview Tracy a second time. I decide that I don’t want to know any more details and tune out.