Brave. You're the bravest woman I know.

I wish I knew what he meant by this.   Why didn't I ask him to explain what he meant?  I need to know.   What would he expect me to do now?

Kevin's hand is large and hot and it covers part of my nose so that I can't breathe properly. I'm surprised at how quickly the hot tears of panic start pouring down my face. Like a switch has been flipped on. Uncontrolled.  Unwanted.  I don't want him to see that.  To see me cry.

Brave. Brave. Brave. I repeat the word over and over in my mind hoping it might change and somehow become easier to embody.  But it doesn't.  The word becomes less meaningful, more pointless. I'm not brave. I'm weak and afraid and vulnerable.  Kevin is none of these things.

When I feel his hand move back between my legs I scream again and my body jolts from its paralysed stillness to get away from his touch.

His voice close to my ear, his breathing hot and heavy. "No point in struggling Alex. You're not gonna get very far and you'll only piss me off more. Now pack it in," He tells me.   He stops molesting me and brings his arm up and over my front to pull me tight against him.  Some grotesque version of spooning except with his legs thrown over mine constraining them at the ankles. "We're just gonna have a chat, thats all."

My body won't stop struggling against him, against his mouth and hands on it; it jack-knifes and twists, all white panic and flight.

Then I feel it. In the hand I can't see now.  Pressed close against my neck. Cold and sharp. My blood sizzles and quickens, rushing to meet the metal point pressing against my clammy skin. The struggle leaves me in an instant right then taking the last of my breath with it. A chat. In my bed. With a knife at my throat.

"Now, I'm gonna take my hand away but listen to me" - a forceful shake and tightening of his hold on me - "I've no issue slicing your throat ear to ear right fucking now. In fact, I actually like the idea of him finding you here in the bed he fucks you in, so don't tempt me, yeah? I'm fucking warning you," He snarls against my ear like a hungry dog. "Make a fucking sound and you're gone - do you hear me? Nod if you hear me Alex."

I attempt a weak nod.

"Nod if you understand me Alex."

I nod again.

His hand peels away from my mouth and the air rushes in again and I swallow it whole. Deep thick gratifying breaths in and out.

His threat holds.  The idea of making a sound doesn't even cross my mind. Pointless screaming will do nothing to help me anyway. He will kill me. I have no doubt about that. A few misplaced screams will only hasten my end. 

He shifts his body up the bed so that he's sitting with his back against the headboard and pulls me up with him so that I'm nestled between his legs.  It's like the position Jake and I have in the bath together. It feels almost gruesome.  He still has one arm crossed over my front, the other holding the cool metal against my neck. When he takes a deep inhale I feel the pressure of it at the back of my skull. Like he's... smelling my hair.  Oh god... This isn't happening. It can't be happening.   It's a nightmare. I'm still asleep. That's it.  This is vivid, lucid dreaming.

"Now, isn't this nice?" He says after a moment, his laboured breathing too hot against my ear.

I wet my dry lips with my tongue and wonder how to respond. Whether to respond. "Wh-what are you doing in my house?" I say. Christ is that my voice?

Kevin makes a tutting noise. "Doubt you'll like the answer to that question sweetheart, you wanna try another one?"

"Jake will be home soon," I say.   "He's on his way back right now." Can he hear the lie in my voice? Because Jake isn't coming home. Because I told him not to come home. No one is coming.

"Ahhh, now we both know that's not the case don't we babe?" Kevin sighs. I can't see it from here but I can hear the smirk in his voice. "You telling me porkies doctor?  Tut. Tut. And here was me thinking we were friends."

"We're not friends. Jake is coming home. He'll be here any minute..."

"Guess we'll have a threesome then," He snickers. 

"You should leave Kevin... right now.. before he gets here..." It comes out like a plead. It is a plead.

"Alex," he shifts, nestling me closer to him, securing me a little more firmly with his legs.  "We both know Jay ain't on his way home. We both know exactly where he is right now. We both know he's over there with Vic playing dad of the fucking year." My heart sinks further. How does he know that? I'm trying to make sense of it when he speaks again. "What do you reckon? Think they're at it as we speak? Jay never was the most faithful dog on the block, stick his cock anywhere he will. Never known him to be all that fussy... even if Vic and him are a fucking headache... they hate each other... they love each other... they hate each-."

"What do you want Kevin?" I ask, cutting him off.  It's the strongest my voice has sounded yet.   Vicky.  Of course.  Of course she has a hand in this.  That's insane.  She wouldn't...

Kevin sighs, a far off dreamy sigh. It's a horrifying sound. Up there with the sound the foxes make in the fields behind the house at night.  "What do I want? What do I want...?" The hand he has thrown over me almost casually starts stroking at my hip. Tender soft strokes that make me feel ill. Ill and dirty. "I want a lot of things Alex. I want a villa with a pool in Marbella. I want to own a bar by the beach. I want a pretty little redhead to sit on my dick for days on end. But none of that's a possibility now is it?"

"Why isn't it a possibility?" I venture.

"Oh, stop playing stupid, Alex," He barks making me flinch.  "It don't suit fucking you."

Closing my eyes shut tight, I flatten my hand over my stomach and focus instead on my breathing. In, out, deep, slow, in, out, deep, slow.

He says nothing more, and I'm counting how much money I have saved that I could give him so he can go live out his Spanish dream when the knife begins to move . It moves slowly but with purpose down my neck to my chest, down over my breastbone under which my heart thunders, then to my nipple. He makes a sickening moaning noise as he moves the knife over it and I whimper slightly, pushing myself back deeper into his chest to try and force some distance between my body and his knife. Down under my breast now.  Across my abdomen.  Over my stomach. No. No. No.  He doesn't know about the baby. He can't know. No one really knows. Vicky knows.

His movements are practiced and deliberate designed to heighten and stretch-out my panic. I'd rather he was talking. Saying anything.  Rather than this. He's twisted, always fucking has been. He likes playing with people. Except, here in the pitch dark of my bedroom just him and me, this doesn't feel like a game.

I stay silent and wait for him to speak. The covers are kicked to the bottom of the bed, my shorts horribly insubstantial. Pale white flesh tangled between jean-clad legs.  He had his hands on me.   He touched me - the way Jake touches me - and for those few, brief moments in the dark I welcomed him into my body, moaning and writhing in need. I'm going to be sick. Dirty. 

As I squeeze my eyes shut tight again, my ears jar loudly, a gnawing bell-like noise that blocks everything else out. Then it's gone and it's only silent again and the sound of his breathing and mine are what fills the space. He's quiet and still for so long that I wonder if maybe he's fallen asleep.

"If it's money you want, I have some. I can get you some... I can—."

"Shut your fucking mouth, I don't want your money." He barks, annoyed and insulted.

"Then what do you want?" I ask. "Why are you here?" I know he told me not to ask this question but it's the only one I really care about. It's the only one that matters right now.

He doesn't answer right away, just breathes heavily against my neck. He smells of male sweat and something faintly citrusy that reminds me of floor cleaner. "He brought this down on his own head..."

"I don't know what you're talking about..." I whisper.  For the first time it occurs to me that this might be about Jakes deal with Mark. Kevin must have found out.  But that doesn't make any sense. If he knew then why would he come after me? Why not go after Jake? Why not go to Dan and buy some favour with it? Unless he knows Dan wanted him dead. This has to be revenge. Revenge for what happened in Jake's office. It's the only thing that really makes sense. Not that anything makes any sense. "I don't understand." I whisper.

"Nah, course you fucking don't," he says.  "You don't have a clue. You've got no fucking concept of what you've done... twisted him right up didn't you?" he growls. "I mean, you're a good looking girl Alex, I get what he sees in you, I do.  You got that arse and all that hair; the fucking accent that makes you think of that skinny arsed princess everyone loves... those tits..." He slides the knife back up across my left breast toward the strap of my vest. My body propels it's weight up, trying to lift itself off him, but he just pulls me back down between his legs, securing his arm tighter around my waist. I expect my move to anger him but he just lowers his mouth back to my ear. "Bet you make him feel right fucking good about himself? Sitting in fancy restaurants with you pretending he aint the Bromley scum he is must make him feel like king of the fucking world. Bet he thinks you're worth it too — who knows - maybe you are?  Maybe I should find out for myself," He's on a mission now, words quick, voice edged, like a football hooligan spoiling for a fight.  His hand moves back towards the space between my legs and I clench my thighs together tightly and squeeze my eyes closed.

"No." I say. "Please..."

"Please what sweetheart? Huh? You were fucking begging for it before. S'up, gone shy now? Playing hard to get?" An awful thought moves through me then. Dark, nihilistic, and selfish. It's the thought that death is better than having him inside my body.  Because I know for a fact that I'd die every single day for the rest of my life if I had to endure that.  Me and my baby would live but I'd spend every waking moment wishing he'd killed me. Not even Jake's love could unpick that kind of damage. Another thought: would Jake's love even still be there?  Would he even still want me?

"He's going to kill you for this..." I sob quietly.

"Yeah, oh he definitely will," Kevin says   "But I'm of the opinion, if you're gonna go out, then go out with a bang," he chuckles.   He leans away from me slightly to fumble with something by the bedside.  Then the lamp bursts on so sudden and shocking that my eyeballs feel momentarily on fire. 

As quick as my mind can manage, I analyse all of the options open to me if I could somehow get away from him. What would need to happen in those moments immediately after?

Him roaring with pain as I scramble over the bed and downstairs. Front door is locked. Keys in the bowl by the door. I'd have to fish them out amongst the other keys in there — keys to Rob's, to my parents, the spare key for the Mini, the garage key — no. That would take too long. Back door. I'd go straight to the kitchen to the back door. It's a turning lock. Quick. Out. My garden is accessible by a high fence and locked gate. It leads to the side of the house where Ed and Betty's is. Oh god I can't lead him there. He'd hurt them too. Without even thinking about it. Back, backward Alex, rewind. My garden is a maze of trees and hedges and plants. Could I hide until he gave up and left? Or until Jake came home. He'd kill Jake. He'd probably lie in wait for him. God no. I need my phone. I need to call the police. I could do that as I hide. My eyes skirt briefly to the bedside table where it sits. I could snatch it up after I punch him. But that's a few seconds within reach I'd rather not give him. The cordless. On the table downstairs. I need to grab it as I pass.

I'm analysing my options when the sudden and shrill sound of my mobile goes off on the beside table. Jake. It has to be. He's on his way. He's calling to let me know he's on his way. 

Kevin, faintly bored sounding: "Well, I'm guessing that's our mutual interest."

When it stops ringing my heart deflates, but it begins starts again almost immediately, the sprightly iPhone standard ring incongruous in the gloom of the situation.  He curses quietly under his breath and the ringing stops once more. When it starts up again he lets out a loud uncertain breath, edgy maybe.  I  feel his grip change, his thighs tighten around me, his breaths irritate. This wasn't in the plan. 

He moves suddenly but not to do what I expect him to.  He doesn't lift it and throw it against the wall or smash his fist down on it — he reaches across and lifts it to his ear, settling the knife back across the front of my throat, flat edge down, sharp edge to flesh: a warning.

"Alright mate?" He says in a bright, friendly voice that fills my lungs with cold dead air. 

This time I do think about screaming but what would be the point? Kevin has just answered my mobile in the middle of the night.   If Jake didn't know before, he knows now.  Instead I keel closer to Kevin in order to hear what is about to be said. "Oh, she's here, Jay. Between my legs. Nice fit actually," he chuckles. I'm not close enough to hear Jake's voice, just a mumbled disembodied crackling. Kevin: "Can't do that mate. Don't reckon they'll be much to talk about anyway.... maybe after?  Yeah... that right?? Well then I guess we're done here.... nah Jay, that ain't gonna work for me... don't think so..." But then I do hear Jake's voice:

"PUT. HER. ON. THE. FUCKING. PHONE."

Thankfully Kevin still remembers how to take orders from Jake. He lets out another of his sighs and then I feel the phone shoved against my ear.

"Jake?"

"Alex, baby, are you... are you okay?"

Am I okay? What on earth kind of question is that? Why yes, darling I'm fine. Never been better. You?

"He... he has a knife." Is what I say.  Kevin makes a soft sniffing sound. 

"Alex listen to me, everything is going to be okay, I need you to believe me.  I'm going to take care of it, I'm gonna sort this okay?" he says, quite calmly, like he's telling me he'll definitely be home in time for dinner. "I'm sorting it. Everything's going to be okay, I promise you." He says again.

"Jake, I...." I'm crying again because the sound of his voice so far away is almost worse than being here alone in the dark with Kevin. "I'm afraid." 

"I know.  I know you are baby, I know you are, but listen to me... I love you — you know that. You know I love you and you know I'm going to make this okay, I'm going to make it all okay... " His words are faster now and rushed, a weakened panic coating them.  I can't bear it. 

"Jake, the baby..." I sniff, a whisper.

He makes a weird pained sound that chills me right to the bone. "Alex, listen to me, it's going to be okay," he says again. This time it sounds like he's telling himself more than me.   His breathing is fast now too and his voice isn't anywhere near as strong as it normally is.  It's shaken. It's terrifying. "I promise you. You and the baby are going to be okay, I'm goi—." The phone is whipped away from me.

"That'll do," Kevin grumbles. "You know mate, you should really screw her more, 'stead of all that chinwagging, she's fucking gagging for it," he says.

Jake is shouting now, threats of murder and retribution that only serve to make me realise that this can only really end one way.  Death: Mine. My child's. Kevin's.  Maybe even Jakes. I'm just not sure in which order.

"Yeah well, you shoulda finished it mate," Kevin is saying now. "Shoulda finished it when you had the chance." More shouting. "We'll see about that, Jay, we'll see won't we..." Silence. Snort of surprise from Kevin. "Ah well. Looks like he had other stuff on. He hung up."

The silence in the moments after is heavy and in that heavy awful silence I realise something. Jake never told me he was coming for me. He never once said that he was on his way. That he'd be here soon.  Why hadn't he said that? I can only think of one reason: Because he isn't coming. I only have an instant to consider this as Kevin's knife hand drops away from my body as he shifts his position.

I move, fast. Throwing myself forward on the bed and scrambling across it away from him. I expect to feel the knife sink into my back or thigh or some other piece of vulnerable exposed flesh but I don't. Instead he grabs my ankle to pull me back which I kick out with furiously until I connect with something muscled and hard. He grunts as I tumble onto the floor on the other side of the bed and scramble towards the door on my hands and knees. I just about make it there when I feel his hands on me. I try kicking again but he shifts his grip on my legs and uses them to flip me round onto my back.

"Nah, ah. Where do you think you're going?" He says, looming over me now. When he rears his hand back and smacks me hard across the face wth it it knocks the breath out of my body.  Loud. Red. Pain. It sears across my eye lid and cheekbone rattling my teeth and causing tears to rush to my eyes again.  Still I hit out at him, slight weak legs and small curled fists which do no damage at all. The tears stream harder down my face as I realise this. He's too big. Too strong. I'm too small. Too weak. 

"Stop it Alex, I fucking mean it," He says, batting my attacks away like he would a fly. "Hold. Fucking. Still. Don't make me hit you again." 

I don't want him to hit me again but neither can I lie here and do nothing. I can't.  After a few attempts he manages to grab both my hands and stretches them way up over my head and lowers his face down to mine, mouth close to mine. I turn my head away from his and squeeze my eyes shut but I'm crying harder now. More pathetically now. Braver than this Alex.

He makes a vile groaning sound as I continue to struggle. "I think I like you under me doctor," He says.  "Now... why don't you show me what it was you did to make Jay lose his fucking head, huh?" He snorts an ugly soft sound that makes me think of pink fleshy membrane and ruined bone tissue. "Look at me," He says.  I keep my eyes closed tight. If I can't see you, you can't see me.  Hide and seek. Count to ten.  His grip on my wrists changes and then he slaps me on the face again, much softer than before, then again a touch harder; another warning. "Fucking look at me, Alex."

When I force open my eyes the tears spill out from them, hot and worthless down into my hair. He tilts his head to the side and studies me then and I notice for the first time that he's chewing something; it adds to the display of maniacal fun he seems to be having, like this is some past time for him, a hobby he enjoys.  His eyes look black. Have they always been so so black?  Like a demon? I can't remember.    The marks of Jake's attack are still evident on his face: his nose swollen, a stitched slit about an inch long on his left cheek, a dark purplish ring around his left eye, swelling on his jaw. I wonder what further damage his clothes are hiding. Where is he weakest? He must have some broken ribs. Where could I hurt him? One well-placed hit could do it. 

"You could have stopped all this you know," he says softly, startlingly softly. "He was gonna kill me, you know that right? But you stopped him - saved my life really, Doctor - funny innit?" Hilarious.  He lowers his head to my ear, like someone might hear what he's about to say. "Do you remember what you said to him? What made him stop? Why don't you say it for me now?" He meets my eye as he moves a hand down over my breast and then slips it back between my legs.

"Stop," I plead up into his glassy eyes. I notice then why his eyes look so black, his pupils are large, too large, he's on something.  "Please stop.. please."

"Yeah, pretty sure that was it," he nods.  "Why didn't you just let him do it? Silly silly girl." He looks and sounds very sorry for me now. "You should have let him kill me sweetheart." 

"What? Stand there and watch him be just like you?"

"Jay is exactly like me Alex." 

"Oh no he isn't. He's nothing like you.." I spit, angry now. "Nothing."

He smiles a wolffish smile at me and shakes his head.  "You poor fucking bitch. He really did a fucking job on you didn't he?" he leans up snorting a loud half laugh. "You've known him five fucking minutes sweetheart, I've known him fifteen years. Let's not kid ourselves you have any clue who he is, yeah?"

"I know him," I say. "I know that he's a world away from the vile piece of scum that you are."

Kevin's eyes flicker darkly, nostrils flaring with the insult.

"See that's where you ain't as smart as you think you are sweetheart," he smiles. "See, Jay's always been very fucking good at pretending he's something he ain't, hiding what he really is - he's made a fucking art of it frankly - but that's all it is Alex, a pretence.  Cause deep down, deep down where you haven't been yet babe, him and me are cut the very same. Least we used to be, before he decided that fucking some doctor and living a neat little life in the country was more important than everything else." He scoffs, casting his eyes about the room at Jake's 'neat little life.'

"And how do you know he hasn't been pretending he's like you?" My voice is stronger this time, stronger than it's been so far. 

"Cause you don't pretend to do the things we've done sweetheart, that's how I know."

My heart falters. My stomach drops. I shake my head.  "No. He's different now... with me, he's different."  I swallow back the bitter vile flooding my tongue. 

Kevin smiles a crooked, surprisingly white, smile at me and nods. "Yeah, he's different all right. Now he bends doctors over tables and fucks them in the arse instead of lap dancers."

The blood drains from my face as the bile rises up my throat.  It's not possible. He couldn't have. But the look on his face tells me he could, and did. I feel violated.

He nods, eyebrows raised. "Quite the show you two put on. Weren't expecting much from it really, seen Jake at it before, but I was well impressed with you." He licks his thick tongue over his lips. "I've paid for porn that wasn't as good as that. Tell me something, you always moan like that or just when your getting it in the arse? You like it up the arse Alex? Sounded like you did. Always the fucking good girls ain't it..." He smirks again.

I want to slap him. Punch him. Spit on him. Scratch his filthy leering eyes out with my fingers. But I don't. I can't. So I grit my next words out slowly. Naively.

"Perhaps you aren't used to the sound of a woman enjoying herself. Clearly you like your women held down and crying for you to st—."

The rest of the words don't get a chance to leave my mouth before he moves and stands up off me. He releases my arms but grabs my hair and hauls me up from the floor by it.

"Well, let's see if you enjoy this then," he says as he drags me back toward the bed. Pain fights with panic as I cry out, hitting and kicking out at him again. I aim for his crotch but I miss. Though I manage to connect my palm and nails with his face just before he throws me face down on the bed.  As he's shouting in pain I manage to turn around onto my back but then I feel a fist slamming into the side of my head. Whack.  Then again. Whack.  The pain is blinding. White hot screaming pain like some minor explosion has gone off behind my temple and left cheekbone. I feel blood run down my nose.  He flips me back onto my front and then climbs on top of me. I'm going to pass out.  I can't fight him if I'm unconscious.  Awake Alex. Awake. Count to ten. Spell onomatopoeia. O-N-O-M-A —. 

He's pulling at my shorts now, hard knees pressing into the back of my thighs, hot breath against my neck, hand still in my hair. My blood feels boiling hot, like it might melt me from the inside out and leave me a pile of sizzling flesh on the bed. God I shouldn't have said that to him. Shouldn't have provoked him.  Why didn't I keep my mouth shut? I hear Jake's voice then, loud and angry: you knew that this was only going to go one way. You knew that. But you did it anyway.

My arm swings backward into an angle I didn't know it could go and I manage to hit something. Flesh against flesh. I try thrusting my elbows backwards both at the same time, pounding them into him. He makes a few irritated groans but then he grabs my hair again pushing my face down into the bed, suffocating me.  I can't breathe. My lungs expand with what little air I have as I feel his hands on my bare behind.   When he lifts my head up back up I take several deep breaths. "You gonna keep that fucking mouth shut or are you gonna make me hit you again?"

"Please..." I manage, squirming my head out of his hold. "Please don't do this Kevin please..." This will kill me. This is going to kill me. Crushed. A broken bird by the side of the road. Insides ripped out. Guts splattered across the ground.

The knife: the word is loud and sharp. Where is it? I lean up as much as I can and edge up the bed, squirming motion like a fish out of water. He didn't have it over by the door. Which means he has it in his pocket or he dropped it. He wouldn't have put it in his pocket if he wanted to use it. Which means it must be here on the bed somewhere. Or on the floor. He's on top of me now, his weight heavy and suffocating.  One hand leaves my body.  I hear it.  Metal. Buckle. Zip.  Again I hear Jake's voice. It's going to be all right, I promise you, I'm sorting this. I'm crying again and I hate myself for it.  Why isn't he here? Where is he? I need him. More than that, I realise; I need my dad. I want my father. BRAVE ALEX. A LOT FUCKING BRAVER THAN THIS. THE BRAVEST WOMAN HE KNOWS ALEX. LIVE IT. 

"All you gotta do is lie still..." Kevin is saying from way way above. "...you can think about Jay the entire time, I honestly don't give a fuck."

Edging myself away from him in small degrees, each breath a centimetre, I move across the bed so that I can drop my head over the side. As I do my heart sinks. No knife. No weapon. Think. Think. Think.  Bedside table. Phone. Book. Lamp.  Becomes: Wood. Metal. Paper. Glass. My body tilts and contorts, stretching far beyond what it should be able to do my muscles elongating, my fingers lengthening.  When my fingers finally curl around the slim blown-glass lamp base I almost cry with relief. 

In my mind I see one of those soft toy machines at the arcade. The ones you use to direct a metal claw towards a smiling teddy bear or pink elephant only the grip is never hard enough and the toy slips out of the grip every single time. 

The cable is attached to the lamp base which is attached to the wall but I know it's a long cable. I pray it's long enough as I yank it off the table and smash it as hard as I can over my head onto his. As the glass shatters his weight rolls off me a little and I manage to release my foot enough to level it at his now exposed crotch.  It's not a direct hit but it's enough and Kevin doubles over, his hands covering his face as he curses loudly. I throw myself off the bed again and towards the bedroom door, tripping on the hall carpet just outside. Stopping briefly to pull my shorts back up my legs I half crawl half run for the the stairs.

The ability to scream isn't even there. It's movement only.  I miss the fourth to last step and skid down on the last few stairs as I hear him stumbling about above me shouting my name with threats of violence and vengeance.

Phone. Kitchen. Backdoor. Run.
Phone. Kitchen. Backdoor. Run.
Phone. Kitchen. Backdoor. Run.

It's the only four words I can process. My hand shoots out to grab the phone as I pass and I slam the kitchen door closed behind me.  I'm heading for the backdoor when the entire house begins to rattle with the sound of him pounding down the stairs.

The kitchen is dark but I know it well. I know every nook and cranny of this house and the kitchen is no exception. I know the spot where Jake pleasured me with his mouth the morning after we were first together. I know where I was when I spat the words at him that broke my heart in two.  I know where he stood as he told me I was the woman he'd waited his whole life for.

I also know where my housewarming butcher knives are kept.

I leave the light off and move in the opposite direction from the backdoor towards the large walnut chest, sliding open the slimmest drawer. Mainly for show the knives gleam dangerously, promising blood and pain to any careless handler.  I feel along the handles for the largest one. I remember the description with a weird detachment then: The Global NI knives have a thicker 2.4mm blade, with a razor sharp finish. Their sleek lightweight design mean they're perfectly balanced. The knives have a longer 'chestnut' shaped handle, designed for comfort and ease of use.

I lift the cooks knife and slide the drawer closed and then move quickly back towards the backdoor.  I've just unlocked it when I hear the kitchen door burst open and I have it partially open when I feel him behind me. The phone crashes uselessly to the floor as he slams the door closed again and spins me around to face him shoving his hand against my throat.  When he slams my head hard back against the door I almost drop the knife too but I manage to press it flat against my thigh until I can readjust and recapture it in my grip. ...a longer chestnut shaped handle, designed for comfort and ease of use.

"Now what the fuck did you have to go and do that for?" He spits, face close to mine. His hold around my throat is tight for a moment before he loosens it. Tight again. Release. It would take nothing for him to choke the life from me and he wants me to know that.  A slight exertion of his strength and I'd be gone. My baby gone. Jake's something good gone.

The way the moonlight spills in through the glass it highlights his face in a haunting mix of white, grey and black. White skin, marred by grey bruises around his eyes and nose. A few new scratches now courtesy of my beloved bedside lamp.  His eyes are still the same deep inky black they were upstairs. He's not an ugly man, not even close, but to me his nasty, wicked hatefulness has always made him beyond repulsive.

"See, here was me thinking you were a lady, Alex. But you're not are you? You're a cunt just like the rest of them. A cunt who's over stayed her welcome." His chokehold tightens once more.

"I'm pregnant!" I cry.  "Please don't, please Kevin."

A flicker of something moves over his face. Surprise, Annoyance. Guilt. I don't know what it is. "You lying fucking bitch," He growls, searching my eyes, face, body, for something. 

I manage to shake my head, tears springing up once more into my eyes. "You know I'm not lying." My voice sounds odd in it's desperate and restricted state. He squeezes me tighter, fingers digging into the lip of my jawbone. Do it.  Do it now.  You can't do it if you're unconscious.  Dead.  Do it.  

I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper 'please' once more.  Five seconds later - I count each one - his hold loosens all the way.  The tears slip all the way out.  His hand drops from my neck but he brings his forehead close to mine, forcing my head back harder into the glass. His thick muscled neck is open and vulnerable. '...a thicker 2.4mm blade, with a razor sharp finish.'

"You tell him this aint done," he growls, hot breath pungent and raw. "Tell him we ain't done.  He'll fucking get his. I want you to tell him I let you walk, let his kid walk, but he ain't walking," he shakes his head, mouth twisted up in a snarl. "We ain't done.  Tell him he's a fucking dead man.  Tell him I'll be wa-."

Whisper quick.  Spongey soft. Hot flesh. Cold steel.

It sprays too. Warm wet splatters on my face. The smell is always surprising. Salt and metal.  Like Iron. Like steel.

It takes a moment for him to realise what's happened like I knew it would.  If I positioned it just right he probably wouldn't even feel it. His hand comes up to his neck a second later and he takes a step back from me, eyes clouding with an almost childlike confusion. He doesn't stagger, just walks slowly backwards, small steps, huge hulking form slow moving.  Blood squirts out through his fingers now. Dark, black and deadly.  It covers the light grey top he's wearing quickly and then it's dripping loudly on the stone floor. Pouring like spilled milk. 

"What the fuck.... what did you...?" he asks me, eyes narrow, brow furrowed in utter confusion. 

He puts a hand out to brace himself on the dining table which he manages to hold onto for maybe ten seconds before he wobbles again.  His eyes skirt about the kitchen before they come back to me wide and full of fear.   His legs buckle and then one beds under him and he falls to his knees. 

The tick-tock from the kitchen clock is loud. 2-4 minutes and painless for the most part. That's all it should take. That's all it would have taken for Jake to die that night if that woman had known where to place her slice.  Or if she'd been given a set of six hundred pound Global NI knives as a housewarming gift that can cut through giving flesh like soft butter.

I'm clutching the knife so tight that I'm not sure where my hand ends and it begins. It's vibrating in my hand, fusing together metal, skin and bone. He sounds like he's choking now, a wet gurgling noise from the back of his throat that sounds like drowning. He is drowning.  He puts his hands out towards me, pleading. I can't move. Can barely breathe.

"Fuck..." He blinks and falls to the left his head still turned to me, eyes still wide. 

Upon graduation we never took the oath, it was considered out-dated and mainly irrelevant; the Geneva convention and GMC's Duties of A Doctor were recited instead in our 'Cambridge Promise'. Yet, the oath is all I hear as Kevin falls gasps and gurgles his last breaths. 

...I will give no deadly medicine to any one... I will not cut persons labouring under the stone... With purity and with holiness I will pass my life and practice my Art...

While I continue to keep this Oath unviolated, may it be granted to me to enjoy life and the practice of the art, respected by all men, in all times. But should I trespass and violate this Oath, may the reverse be my lot...

Over and over again I repeat it, like the loop of Moonlight Sonata, missing out some sections, skipping over others, playing the same part over and over again. With purity and holiness... I will not cut... But should I violate this... I will not cut...I will not cut...

Over and over I repeat it. Over and over until his breathing stops. Over and over until his black eyes lighten with release. Then I slide my back down the door to sit on the floor and pull my knees up tight to my chest. I keep my focus entirely on him. My violation.  My oath-breaker.

I'm not sure how long after it is before I hear it. Seconds.  Minutes.  Hours. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Whack.  Thump. Thump.  Thump.  Whack.

Someone is breaking in. Jake?  Why would Jake break in when he has a key?   Not Jake then. I'm too numb to care if they mean good or ill. I'm so cold. My face hurts.  My head hurts. My throat hurts.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Crash. 

The sounds of loud voices follow, serious, authoritative, strange voices.  They flood up the stairs and down the hall towards me calling my name.