But she remembered the sense of the words, the general meaning. She was telling him she’d never forgive him. He couldn’t make it all go away. She was glad he was going to die.

He’d begged her to stop, but she kept on, tearing his trousers down. He tried to fight her; each time, she thumped him in the face with the iron. He was crying like a child, like she’d cried, and Casey knew this was right. She should’ve done this a long time ago.

Pulling down his boxers, she pressed the iron against the thing. He’d wept and lashed out at her, but she pushed harder, harder, ignoring the strikes against her face. By the end, his dick was scorched and mangled. She couldn’t believe she’d ever felt threatened by it.

Standing, she’d stared down at him, his neck covered in deep red welts, his hands moving to cover himself.

“What’s the matter? You want some privacy?” She threw the ironing board on top of him and kicked him in the stomach. “Whatever medicine they offer you, whatever treatments, tell them no.”

Casey had toyed with violence before that, especially as a girl when she’d done all manner of interesting things with the neighbourhood animals. But this was the first time she truly understood how magnificent physical violence could be.

“Love you, Mum,” she said now, rising to her feet.

She spat on her father’s grave, and then walked back towards the car.

She’d been right about Scott. His face was coated in sweat.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, she reached over and took his wrist. Acupuncture needles protruded from the skin between his fingers and his thumb, dozens of them criss-crossing.

“Is it bad?” She flicked one of them and he gulped. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

With a sigh, she began to remove them. It was no good. The rat had given her a bit of a thrill, but since then there’d been nothing. In a way, she envied her father. He’d never grown tired of what he did to her. But that was because he was far less clever, needed less stimulation. He was also nowhere near as imaginative as Casey.

She dropped the needles onto the dashboard, starting the car with a smile. “Shall we get some dinner on the way home? I’m starving. And maybe after you can take me shopping. Doesn’t that sound like a lovely evening?”

Scott stared straight ahead. “Yes.”

36

GARY

“They’re finally asleep,” Gary said, walking into the living room.

Aissa smiled from the sofa, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate. Gary always felt a pang of love when he saw her like that; it was something more than love too, the everyday normality of it lighting him up in some magical way. Or maybe he was just dog-tired after getting the kids to sleep.

He dropped down next to Aissa, wrapping his arm around her and laying his cheek against the top of her head.