offer, I had so much to give. I had a life. You took my life, slowly and piece by piece, and so now I am taking your life, do you understand?’
He nodded with eyes wide.
‘I want you to know that I will reclaim myself, Mark. I will gather up all the little pieces that you have chipped away, hidden in drawers, swept under the carpet and shoved behind cushions and I will rebuild myself. I will become all of the things that I thought I might. All the dreams I considered before you broke me, I will chase them all and you will be but a distant, sad reflection. It is important for me that you know that. Important for me that you know you did not win.’
The blood flow seemed to have slowed, either due to clotting or some other reason, she didn’t care. She sat and read through the afternoon, occasionally glancing at the vacant face of her husband. His skin was grey and he seemed sleepy.
‘Are you still with us, Mr Sleepyhead?’ she asked once.
It was some time later that her reading was disrupted by the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs. It seemed to rouse her husband from his stupor. He tried to reach out his hand, beckoning to his children through the wall.
‘That is pointless, Mark. Take it from one who knows: wishing for help, reaching for help, praying for escape – that doesn’t work. But don’t you worry, Mark, I’ve got it.’
She rose from her chair, turned down the corner of the page she was reading and carefully closed her book. She padded across the carpet, opened the bedroom door a crack and popped her head through the gap.
‘Hi, kids!’ she shouted.
‘Hi!’ came at least one response.
‘Dad and I are having an early night, but I am happy to come out and feed you. Are you guys hungry?’
‘No.’ This time Lydia’s voice was distinct. ‘We ate at Amy’s.’
‘What about Dom, is he hungry?’
‘No, Mum, I told you, we both ate at Amy’s!’
‘So no one needs feeding?’
‘No! For God’s sake stop fussing.’
‘Righto, if you are sure. Goodnight, Lyds.’
‘Goodnight, Mum.’
‘Goodnight, Dom!’
‘Goodnight, Mum – you lightweight, it’s only half past seven!’
She closed the door and walked back across the carpet to where her husband lay centrally on their marital bed.
‘Well, looks like they don’t need feeding, Mark, and a promise is a promise. I will not leave this room.’
She lifted a glass of water from the bedside table and raised it to her lips, sipping slowly. Mark eyed the glass.
‘Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink, Mark?’
He just about managed a slight nod. She smiled at him.
‘Oh, I bet you would, but no drinking for you tonight, mister.’
The memory of her sock-stuffed mouth and swollen lips came to mind. She replaced the glass on the bedside table and let out a deep sigh before returning to her novel.
Kathryn must have nodded off. She couldn’t remember falling asleep, but was suddenly conscious of waking. She had been disturbed by her husband’s breathing, which sounded rattly and loud, almost gurgling. She glanced at the bedside clock. It was 2 a.m.
‘Well now, is this it, Mark? Are you off? Off to be judged, if you believe in such things. Off to a dark place whence there is no return? I think so, I think it is time. Are you afraid? Are you scared of what might come next?’
The staring, widened eyes told her that he was. She smiled and bent low over his face.
‘You should be.’
‘I haven’t got long.’
His voice was a waning whisper. His final words coasted on fragmented last breaths.
‘Too slow, painful. You’ll pay.’
She mentally erased the words before he finished. She would not share, recount or remember them.
‘Oh, Mark, I have already paid.’
Bending low, with her face inches from his, she breathed the fetid air that he exhaled, sharing the small space where life lingered until the very end.
Kathryn watched the life slip from him, convinced she saw the black spirit snake out of his body and disappear immediately through the floor, spiralling down and down. She sat back in her chair and breathed deeply. She had expected euphoria or at the very least relief. What she couldn’t have predicted was the numbness that now gripped her.
She had expected to feel more.
Having changed into jeans and a jersey, Kathryn calmly stood by the side of the bed where her husband’s pale corpse lay. With great deliberation and for the first time in her life, she