Aki wanted her to mind her own business.

But my mother’s house is the only place for me to go, thought Aki, so what’s going to become of me?

AKI WAS BACK FROM THE funeral, and alone in her bedroom, when she heard a familiar voice.

‘Maiko, Maiko. Where are you?’

He’d come looking for her mother, even though Aki’s mother had said she was extremely busy and would be back home late.

Aki hoped he’d give up and leave, but it only made him keener: ‘Maiko! Maiko! Hey, Maiko!’

‘She’s not here!’

He barged suddenly into her room, and Aki drew up her legs on the bed and screamed, ‘SHE’S NOT HERE. She’s not home yet.’

‘Oh, Akiko, you’re here.’

Aki’s stepfather had forced open the sliding door to her Japanese-style room, and was now staring at her. His necktie was askew, the buttons on his shirt undone.

His face looked flushed and his breath stank of alcohol. Aki shrank back further.

Oh God, she thought. Usually she hid in her mother’s wardrobe, staying totally quiet while he was around.

She made a sudden dash to get out of the room.

‘Wait! Where are you going?’

He tried to catch her by the shirt and cajole her into staying. When she ignored him, he grabbed her bare arm, his sweaty palm finding a firm grip. Her legs began to tremble.

‘NO!’ she shrieked.

Her stepfather pulled her towards him, clamping down her arms.

‘ATSUSHI-KUN!’ screamed Aki.

He slipped his hand inside the neck of her school shirt. With his other hand he covered her mouth.

‘Help me!’ breathed Aki.

She began to kick and kick. She turned and managed to knee him between the legs, broke free and fled into the living room, propping the sliding door shut with a broom handle. She grabbed the telephone sitting on a small table in the corner, knocking over the memo pad, calendar and pen stand. She struggled to recall the correct numbers she needed to send a message, frantically converting the letters of her message into the appropriate numbers.

Four-one – Ta … three-three – Su … two-four – Ke … four-four – Te. Each set of numbers standing for a Japanese syllable. Ta-su-ke-te … Help!

‘Akiko! Akiko!’ shouted her stepfather from beyond the sliding door, shaking it so violently she thought it might break.

She threw the phone on the floor and let out a long scream. At that moment, a small but distinct light caught her eye.

A small mirror lying on the floor had begun to shine.

Usually it was the mirror in her bedroom that shone, but this light came from her mother’s small hand mirror. The Wolf Queen had told them she wouldn’t allow any mirror to shine if adults were around.

‘Akiko!’

A roar came from behind the sliding door which her stepfather was vigorously rattling. It wouldn’t take much before it came crashing to the floor. She placed her hand on the small round face of the shining mirror and let herself slip inside.