‘What are you running for, Henry? Stand and fight like a man. That’s what your father would have done. She’s just a girl, a silly girl. Grow a pair of balls and fight.’

Heath shouted out as he ascended the stairs towards the attic, fully intending to kill his captives as the detective watched, fatally wounded and helpless, worshipping at his feet. Why carry the piggy bitch up the stairs when she could climb them herself? ‘Shut your mouth, Mother. I know exactly what I’m doing. Shut your stupid mouth before I shut it for you.’

Kesey was losing a lot of blood as she climbed the stairs after him. He could see she was losing strength now. She was moving more slowly. And her eyes were dimming. They were definitely dimming. The light of life was gradually fading. What a wonderful sight to behold. Heath was boosted by his success. He was excited by the detective’s apparent vulnerability. His animalistic senses stimulated by the scent and sight of her blood. He wanted to taste the sweet liquid with its metallic tang, to feed on her life-force, but first, he had to overpower her. She looked close to collapse. How hard could it be?

Heath turned towards Kesey as she reached the landing, stumbling slightly on negotiating the final step. He noted that she still looked scared, but that determination was there too. Despite her wound. Despite her hopeless plight. He watched her as she leant against the wall, panting slightly, regaining whatever strength she could find, dredging it up from her boots. He studied Kesey’s pallid face and thought her ridiculous to risk her life for others. She was selfless. So unlike himself. And that made the idea of killing her even more attractive. He planned to do it slowly. To make her suffer. To drive home her failure before she breathed her last breath. He was feeling more powerful now, telling himself that sweet victory would soon be his. He smiled on seeing the warm red blood running down Kesey’s arm, dripping and staining the carpet at her feet in a steady stream that wouldn’t let up.

‘Are you ready to die, piggy? It won’t be long now. You’re in my slaughterhouse. A most appropriate place to die.’

Kesey adopted a defensive position, both legs and her one good arm ready to strike. ‘Bring it on, you sad excuse for a man. You don’t frighten me.’

Heath tried to strike again as Kesey suddenly leapt forward in one adrenaline-fuelled bound, but the knife fell short. He stumbled backwards, hitting the wall hard as the detective threw two quick punches with her one good arm, the first breaking his nose and the second cutting his right eyelid down to the bone.

‘Can’t you even beat a silly girl, Henry? What kind of a man are you? Or are you still a boy? Fight, boy, fight, kill the piggy bitch.’

Heath attempted to scramble up the ladder as Kesey regained her balance, holding her sore knuckles to her mouth.