‘You didn’t have to do this,’ I said. ‘I was never going to show anyone else.’

His head tilted to the side, like Dusty’s did when he didn’t understand something I was saying, and the sudden calm, the stillness of his body, scared me more than anything else.

Beneath the bed, Dusty whimpered again.

‘You thought because you lost your family, you could destroy mine, too?’ he said, his voice wavering. ‘She was your best friend. You knew what that would do to her, how it would destroy her, and you did it anyway.’

I shook my head, cowering. ‘I had no choice.’

His hand found my hair, and I thought, for a moment, that he was going to lean in, kiss me, but it tightened, so much that I gasped. Then he pulled down, hard, and I squeezed my eyes shut as he pinned me, his legs rigid on either side, his hand on my neck now, pressing, the other hand still gripping the hammer. ‘You always have a choice. We always had a choice, until you destroyed us.’

His eyes were cold, ready to bend reality to suit his needs, manipulate the world around him, take the control he desired like a power-drunk kid in a game of Monopoly.

My mouth begged for air, but his hand pressed me down, tightening on my throat, cutting off my oxygen.

Davis came closer, his face suspended over mine. Sweat pricked his forehead. His glasses were about to become fogged. Up close, his lips were ugly, thin, and dry – flaking. His breath was hot. A faint smell of blood.

He killed John, I told myself as my own anger surged. He killed John.

‘No matter what you told her, Ellie will always know who you are now,’ I said, struggling to get the words out.

His hand whipped away as if I’d turned hot.

Oxygen invaded my lungs, and my hand shot to my throat.

I should’ve stopped, I knew it, but for a minute, I didn’t even care.

‘And I’m glad she does.’

Davis reared back, lifting the hammer over his head.

Gravity does the work, I thought as the hammer hung, waiting. Gravity does the work.

THIRTY-FOUR

There are moments when time stands still, when you know that there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. The connection of fist to face. The blow to the back of the head. The feeling of a car’s wheels losing their grip on the road beneath you. The hollow emptiness of impending loss.

The moments when, finally, you admit it – everything you’ve ever told yourself about your role in the world is wrong. All the calendars, all the classes, all the interviews and jobs, all the hours spent trying to arrange a life for yourself, carefully stacking jacks and queens and aces into a house of cards – it was all an illusion.

It was never real.

You never, ever had any control.