At that time of night, when the world is about to fight the urge to turn into a pumpkin and the moon starts prodding the sun to get out of bed and light up the day, the streets are often silent. It's as if they're holding their collective breaths, hoping to hear the voice of the moon as it tells the sun 'Come on, old fella. Wakey, wakey!' Or perhaps it's wondering if there'll ever be a time when the sun just wants to turn over and have five more millennia.

I couldn't remember the last time I was out walking at almost midnight. Usually, I was in or on my way to bed. I would often be locking my doors and turning out my lights long after I'd intended. No matter how many times I promised I'd get an early night, Time had other ideas. It would quietly steal the seconds, filtering occasional ones while my attention was diverted. Before I knew it, the seconds had clubbed together to become hours and I'd know I would be tired in the morning, yawning at work and promising myself I'd be in bed earlier the next day. And the next.

I looked around. There were no cars or pedestrians. Some houses had lights still on, though many were in darkness. I turned off Chasing Cars and listened to the silence. It felt as if I was being cleansed, as if the lack of noise was washing my senses of the ravages of the day. I was refreshed. I rounded a corner onto a street with few houses along it. A primary school lined one side of the road and on the other was a wide field edged by a river. On the river, every year, swans would have their cygnets. I'd see them grow. Often stopping to take a photograph to upload onto Facebook or Instagram. There was a way to go until the little ones came along so there were only a few ducks hoping for scraps of bread to break the calm waters. I kept to the school side so as not to disturb them.

I didn't see her at first. She was wearing dark clothes and her body obscured the light from the phone in her hand. I caught the glimpse of headphone wires but that didn't mean she was oblivious to the rest of the world. She might, like me, have turned off her music to listen to the world.

At first, I kept my speed, thinking nothing. Without realising, I saw I was gaining on her. My speed had increased, but only by a touch. Then a little more. She must have heard me coming but then I noticed the rhythmic thud-thud-thud of music.

By the time I had caught up, my feet having, without me requesting it, sped up to a run, we were almost at the end of the school grounds. The metal fence stopped and a wall finished the boundary. It had the name of the school on it and their motto: Hand in Hand We Learn.

She noticed me, then. If not from the sound of my footfalls then from the vibrations. Or from some sixth sense that she wasn't alone.

She was about to turn. About to look at me. About to show me her face and break the spell I was under. My hand was in the air, almost of its own accord, swinging hard. It connected with the side of her head, pushing hard. Skull and brick connected in an impact that made one of them make a dull crunching sound.

She staggered, unsteady on her feet. She tried to walk, dropping her phone. I heard the glass break and winced. It would cost a fortune to repair. I took hold of the ponytail in the back of her hair to stop her moving away and slammed her head against the wall again. As her weight started to pull against the hand holding her hair, I made it three times, the charm.

She fell. She didn't move. Not even the twitch of a finger or the rise and fall of a chest.

I crouched next to her, as if waiting for the feelings to overcome me like a Highlander's Quickening. They didn't. The beat of music laughed at my continued failure. I ignored it, for a moment, then stamped down on her phone, silencing it.

That did feel good. I was quieting a naughty child, though I'd never use physical violence on a youngster. Smashing her phone shut it up. That taught it a lesson it wouldn't forget.

But, the girl?

Nothing.

I felt a sudden kinship to her. We both seemed to be dead inside. While her head seeped blood, did mine leak emotion? Was this why I couldn't connect with the deaths? Were my feelings cascading from my orifices leaving me a dry husk?

No. They couldn't be. I did feel. I did love. I did shed a tear. This was something else. Something I needed to explore.

"Is she alright?"

I froze. A car hummed next to me and I hadn't heard its approach, nor noticed its lights. It was a lime green Micra. Amanda had had one about three cars ago. She still pined for it occasionally.

"Dear, is she OK? Do you need help?"

I looked up. She was older. Late sixties, maybe, but one of those who looked, and probably acted, younger. She had blue flashes in her hair and round glasses with purple stripes along the arms.

"Sorry. No, we're fine. She's had one too many."

"Are you sure? She looked hurt."

I pointed towards the end of the street.

"We only live around the corner. I told her not to drink on her tablets, but she always knows best. I'm just giving her a minute before I get her up."

The girl moved, groaning softly. I noticed I was shaking.

"See? She's fine. She'll regret it in the morning. Thanks, though."

"Don't worry about it. Let her have a lie in. She'll need it!"

"You're not wrong there."

We both laughed. Hers was stronger than I expected. Mine was weaker than I intended. She gave a wave and drove off. The girl moved again. I gently stroked the back of her head, gripped the ponytail, pulled and slammed it forward.

She didn't move any more, apart from the widening pool of blood running away, excited to be free of the confines of her body.

I couldn't leave her there. I wasn't a monster. I didn't want children or parents to find her the next morning. I scooped her up, finding that either she was lighter than she looked or my adrenaline was given me strength, and carried her over to the wall across the road. I threw her into the swift moving river. The splash was loud in the calm night air, as if it had been waiting for the sound to be made, welcoming it with open arms to fill the expectant void.

She swung under the surface, then rose up again, bobbing face down. A mallard came to investigate, possibly hoping for a larger than average scrap of bread. It pecked at the girl, realised she wasn't readily edible and swam away. The current took a hold of the girl and carried her away. As she went, I thanked her for keeping her face hidden, and for her help in trying to give me what I needed, even if she actually hadn't. I was about to continue on my way home when I glanced back towards the school, remembering the pool of blood.

A fox was there, hungrily lapping at the puddle. Our eyes met for a second and for that second, I felt a kinship. The fox's gaze was full of thanks for the tasty treat, and mine was equally thankful for the clean up on aisle nine.

I thought about shooing it away. It felt strangely undignified. An insult to the gesture the girl had made. But it was getting rid of the evidence. Doing my job for me. I should have been grateful.

I left the creature to it and turned back the way I'd come. I should return to my car. The flat tyre had, in fact, given me an alibi.

At the cinema, I joined the throng of people leaving the final showing of whatever other film had just kicked out as they made their way to the car park. My car was, of course, as I left it, regarding me with empty eyes.

Yes, I thought. I abandoned you. I shouldn't have, but I'm back now.

I really shouldn't have left my car. Not because of how forlorn it appeared, but because of the girl. Again, there was no guilt. I was purely carrying out my experiment. She had been one of the ingredients. Experiments were wont to fail. It was part of the learning process. I'd learned that using physical force wasn't what I needed. Or was it that my target – rather than victim – was another woman? Should I try my luck with a man next time? There would be a next time, I had no doubt.

If at first, and all that.

But, I needed to be more careful. My focus had been on her and I'd almost been caught. I should be fully aware of my surroundings at all times. Another thing I had learned.

I worked on the tyre, changing it as quickly, and as cleanly, as I could. As far as cars went, I knew where to put the fuel and water. Oil was the responsibility of the garage when it went for its service. I always had baby wipes in the glove box for when my hands were dirty from unscrewing the dust caps to pump up the very tyres I was now changing. Two different men asked if I needed a hand, which I declined with a smile. It was good to know that chivalry was still alive and well. Both knights were with their respective parners, so were not planning, I assumed, on asking me out. It wouldn't have worked. I was not turned on by big muscles and dirty hands. Or men.

I'd be remembered. The poor fool who was stuck in the cinema car park way after the movie had ended. I didn't mind any more. I welcomed it. For once, I was glad of the inconvenience. I had been contemplating changing my car for a newer model, prompted by the marketing emails from the dealership. My car had helped me, though. It had come through for me before I'd even known I needed the help. I decided I'd hold on to it for a while longer.

Tyre changed, I drove home. On the way, my phone beeped.

Amanda

On way home, babe.

I smiled.

Me too, gorgeous.

Did you and dad have fun?

Yes, thanks. Better than you, I'm sure.

Get the bed warm, baby.

Get it warm with me.

Deal.

I switched the radio on, not caring what played. I wasn't listening. I wasn't thinking. I was just driving home, where my wife would soon join me.

The warm feeling inside of me was love.

Wasn't it?