Craig stood over her, breathing heavily, hands covered in blood, more red stains on his jeans and shirt. He wiped at his nose then turned to Dorothy. His eyes were wet, cheeks flushed like he’d been for a run. He held Dorothy’s gaze for a moment then looked at Jenny, then he ran towards Dorothy and grabbed her arms and tried to push past her. She stumbled into him, lifted her knee to his crotch and his head jolted downwards before coming back up. He heaved her over to the side and rammed her against the wall, smacking her skull on the whiteboard. She felt dizzy as he let go of her arms and put his hands around her throat, began to squeeze.

She struggled to breathe and squirmed to escape his grip but he was too strong. She tried the knee thing again but he was wise to it, standing to the side, and she connected with the outside of his thigh. She scratched at the wall behind her, praying for anything she could use to distract him, throw at him, pull off the wall to save herself. Nothing. His fingers squeezed her neck and her lungs burned. She scrabbled at his hands on her throat, felt herself growing faint, then remembered something. She felt into her cardigan pocket and placed her hand on the bone that she’d carried since Jim’s cremation. She pulled it out and made a fist, the point poking out from her tight knuckle. She pushed her fist with all her energy into the underside of Craig’s chin, feeling Jim’s bone 310go through the fleshy part of his mouth and tongue. He roared and let go of her throat.

She pulled the bone out and jammed it in again, same place. He gripped her arm and yanked it away, but she held on to the bone then forced it into his chest below the ribs, felt it run through flesh then muscle.

He tried to suck in air as he swung his fist into her face, knocking her to the ground. She still had hold of the bone in her hand, Craig’s blood soaking her fist, splashing from his chin and running from his chest. He looked at that wound, placed his hand over it, stumbled as if he might pass out, then righted himself. He pulled his vision into focus and stared down at Dorothy.

‘Dad?’

Dorothy heaved in a breath as she turned and saw Hannah standing at the door. She raised a hand, the one with the bone, and pointed it at Craig. She tried to focus but her vision was blurred, tears and pain. Craig was staring at Hannah and holding his chin and chest.

Craig and Hannah stood motionless as if this moment was trapped in time forever, father and daughter, injured women lying around them both in a tragic tableau.