The fist slammed hard and fast into the centre of his nose, then there was blood pouring down his throat and his eyes were on fire. He didn’t remember staggering backwards, but he found himself on the floor in the middle of the lounge area, spluttering as he tried to draw breath and coughing blood onto the rug his wife had so desperately wanted. Osaki wasn’t the only thing she’d grown tired of.

‘Lean your head forwards,’ the man instructed, providing assistance by taking Osaki by the hair and pushing his face until it nearly touched the floor. ‘Now, spit out as much blood as you can.’

Osaki did so, more by instinct than willingly.

A strip of gaffer tape was slapped hard across his mouth.

‘You’ll need to stay in that position, or you’ll choke on your own blood. Stay still while I help you out a little.’

He pushed scissors towards Osaki’s mouth and snipped a tiny hole in the tape, just enough to allow an additional whistle of air through, but not enough to allow his mouth to open and issue sound.

‘We’re going to make this quick, before your lovely wife comes back. Not that I reckon she’d stop me. What do you think? Do you think she’d make a run for it, try to alert the police, or would she secretly be pleased by what she found?’

Osaki stayed on his knees, forehead balanced on the rug, the room spinning. The man’s words were unclear. The air entering his lungs was wet. Nothing made sense. Gloved hands were rolling him onto his side, pulling his hands behind his back. He could no longer move his arms, connected at the wrists by a painfully thin thread of plastic. He breathed in what oxygen he could through the slit in the tape then blew hard from his nose. A stream of thick blood spattered the lower section of the sofa, but it did the trick. He breathed more freely, blinking hard.

His attacker’s back was turned and he was fiddling with a bag. Osaki seized the moment, thrashing like a fish out of water towards the nearest wall, knowing if he could only bang on it hard enough with his feet, his constantly irate neighbour would be hammering his door in seconds. It had been a curse since they’d moved in. Now, it was a lifeline. One thump was all he managed before he was hauled back into the middle of the room.

‘No, you don’t,’ he was admonished. ‘Bravery doesn’t suit you. You don’t deserve it. Too little, too late. You’re weak.’

Osaki nodded unenthusiastically.

‘But I’m not.’