Laura felt as if the power balance had tilted in his favour once again. He held the keys to her future, her happiness, and her peace of mind, and he knew it, fed off of her helplessness. Any attempt she made to go to the Police now could end in her death. And a photograph of her own, filled with red.

She continued reading, a cold sheen of sweat collecting on her brow.

A tooth, said the letter. A big tooth, a molar. Give me what I want, and I’ll give you a clue.

Deep down inside, you know you can’t live without me, don’t you? And I can’t live without you for much longer, Laura. If you don’t do as I say, I’m not sure I can hold myself back.

No cheating. I’ll know if it’s not your tooth.

Yours with respect,

X

Laura dropped the letter and watched as it glided to the floor.

And she realised something, as his words stared up at her from her feet.

This was no longer about Bobby. Maybe it never really had been.

This was about her, and him.

This was his obsession, coming to a climax. All he had ever wanted to do was own pieces of her, and hurt the rest. Bobby was long dead, and she was the target, but if she tried to go back to the Police, he would kill her. She remembered the size of him, the weight of his fist.

And he knew where she lived.

Her mind raced with a thousand different scenarios, all of them ending the same way: with X, pinning her down, reaching into her wide open mouth with a chisel, or some pliers, or maybe even a knife. X, using a felt-tip pen to draw a thin line around her neck, just above the clavicle. X, working on her body with a sharp tool, like an electric saw, or kitchen knife.

He had killed Bobby this way, and he would kill her unless she did as she was told.

Was there really no other way?

Even if she left the house today, somehow, without him noticing, which seemed impossible…she had nowhere to go. She couldn’t afford a hotel, and he knew where her parents lived. Her boyfriend would take her in, but she didn’t want to put him in any danger, because that’s what this was, now: life, or death.

She thought about it until her brain ached, and then, came to a single, devastating conclusion.

What was her life worth, really, when she thought about it?

A full set of teeth?

Maybe, after this, he would stop.

Maybe, after this, it would be enough.

It’s only a tooth, Laura, she told herself.

Only a tooth.

She went to fetch a hammer and a pair of pliers from the toolbox she kept under her sink. She downed a cheap bottle of wine. Took a hold of her right back molar with the pliers.

Pulled, hard.

The tooth didn’t budge.