With all his dreaming, he doesn’t hear the intruder come in this time. Not until he can see them too, at least a part of them, in a sliver of mirror that didn’t make it out of the frame. A solid calf, black trouser leg, blacker trainers. Fucking Rudy has found him after all. Mark’s too tired to fight this time. He smiles, sinks against the hard back of the cushion-less sofa and waits for the machete to land. Or the stubby knife to stab him. Or maybe a baseball bat that will knock him sideways.

He smells stink, Rudy’s, as the burn grabs him around his throat. A ring of fire, scorching his skin and cutting off his windpipe. He tries to gag but the grip is too tight. His survival instinct kicks in, at last, and he pushes his arms up and reaches back. He feels a rustle of heavy material, a jacket, but he’s got no power to create fists, or to find flesh and pull Rudy’s arms away, to stop his own throat from being cut in half by a piece of rope, or whatever slice of hell is strangling him. His chest convulses, begging for air. But the pressure on his throat gets tighter as Rudy leans further over him. Mark catches his image in the sliver of mirror. It’s blurred, monochrome in the darkness, but still, Rudy looks different tonight.

Then the darkness becomes black.

And his chest stops searching.

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Beth

There’s a thin line of light between the blind and the Velux window. It’s bright enough to wake Beth up and she stares at it now, picking at its meaning. There’s the promise of a beautiful day – the line is too bright for the sun to be hampered by clouds – and it also tells her that it’s late, at least nine o’clock. She’s not surprised that she’s slept in though; Simon encouraged her to take a sleeping pill last night. She’ll be slow for the rest of the morning too no doubt, but it’s worth it.