“If you’re gonna kill me, just kill me.”

She has never before said this to Terry and he seems unnerved by it, unsure how to respond, as though hearing his words repeated back to him has detached them from him somehow. His face clouds in puzzlement. But only for a moment. A new logic has worked its way into his mind. Grabbing first the belt of her dressing gown, and then the charger cable to her phone, he yanks her from the bed to her feet and then pushes her into a chair in the corner. “I don’t want to kill you, Simone,” he says wrapping the cable around her wrists and fastening it to the chair. “You think I like this? You think I didn’t see you the other day talking to that posh slut from next door? What were you saying? What are you planning? You push me to it. I only want you to do what’s right, I only want to help you, but you keep on doing these stupid, senseless things. You’re hurting us, Simone. You need to start listening to me, don’t you? I’m the one who’s sorted things. I’m the one who looks after this family.”

“You? You spend all your money on drugs or drink! Your father’s money, half of it. You think I don’t know? There must have been thousands of pounds of it by now – we could live a different life!” she explodes, struggling away from him.

“I don’t need his fucking money,” he spits.

“But you’re just like him. You steal my benefits and you piss that away too. What do you do?”

“I saved you,” he growls. “And don’t you forget it. You think you’re above me? You think you’re so clever? I made the decisions you couldn’t fathom. Me. I saved you from parents who treated you like the crap you are. I saved you from all that shit you were doing. So you can sit here and listen, to me, not your fucking friend next door, and think about that. And then we’ll see about killing you.” Her arms are bound tight now and Terry starts in on her legs. He has never done this before and despite no longer caring, she can feel herself starting to panic.

“Terry,” she says, but he puts his hand roughly over her lips.

“No, no, just listen.”

He presses his hand a little harder against her face, a gesture to hammer home his power, and then he crosses the room where he pulls out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

“Terry, please,” she says.

Her eyes feel as though they are burning, but she cannot look away from him. He runs a dollop of gel through his hair and slaps on some aftershave. “Right,” he grins at her, fresh, invigorated. “Wonder when Dom will be home. Maybe we’ll see if he’s any better at listening than his mother.”

Simone’s throat tightens, the panic building into an un-swallowable lump. The look in Terry’s eyes is goading now, triumphant. She has seen that look many times before. Fragments of memories flash across her mind: Terry punching Dominic in the face when he was eight years old and splitting his skin; cuffing him around the ear, behind his head, in his stomach. Why had she done nothing then? Why had she let it happen? How had she made herself believe it was okay, right, the discipline Dominic needed? What is Terry going to do to Dominic now? I’ll kill you. I’ll kill you. I’ll fucking kill Dom too. Without thinking any further, she opens her mouth and starts to scream. As loud as she can. At the top of her register. Help. Help. Help. Everything she has been wanting to yell since she was sixteen. Voiced at last.