When he entered the kitchen, his dinner was on the table. ItTiad dried up long ago, the chips looking like mummified fingers.
'I don't want any dinner,' he growled, raising one hand to shield his eyes from the bright glow of the kitchen's fluorescents.
'Look,' said June, 'it's not my fault it's like that. If you'd come home at the right time.'
He cut her short. 'No fucking dinner.' He screamed the words, grabbing the plate and flinging it at the far wall where it shattered, splattering food in all directions. He turned on her, spittle sticking in white blobs to his lips. June was suddenly afraid.
She took a step backward, watching him as he glanced up at the light. He hissed and covered his eyes as if the white glow were causing him pain.
He rushed to the switch and slapped it off, plunging the room into darkness.
'Ray,' said June, her tone softening, wondering just what was happening, 'what's the matter?'
'Light,' he grunted, 'can't stand the light.'
He turned and stalked into the living room, recoiling madly from the shaded hundred and fifty watt that illuminated the room.
'Turn it off,' he screamed and dashed for the switch.
The room was now lit only by the glow of the television screen and Mackenzie growled something as he stood looking at it. Michelle got to her feet and ran to her mother, suddenly frightened by her father's behaviour. He put both hands to his head and moaned, slumping into one corner of the room, head down.
June crossed to the phone and began dialling, 'I'm going to get a doctor,' she said.
Mackenzie leapt to his feet and was across the room in a second, his hand closing around his wife's wrist in a grip which threatened to snap the bone. She gasped and tried to pull away. The phone dropped uselessly from her hand and swung by its cord. His voice almost a whisper, now surprisingly calm, Mackenzie said, 'No doctor.'
She looked down at the hand which gripped her arm and tried to pull away. Mackenzie smiled, his eyes blazing in the reflected glare of the TV. He released his grip and pushed June away. She bumped into a chair and nearly fell.
'What the hell is wrong with you?' she said, becoming angry, 'had too much to drink?'
He snarled and stepped towards her, bringing his arm back then striking forward with the back of his hand. The blow lifted June off her feet and sent her crashing into the metal guard of the gas fire. She rolled forward, blood weeping from her split lip. Still stunned from the force of the blow, she peered up at him. Mackenzie stood, legs astride, glaring down at her, his eyes narrowed to protect himself from the light of the TV.
'You bastard,' she said softly. 'You mad bastard.'
Michelle began to cry. She had been standing in the doorway between kitchen and living room and had seen it all. Now she watched as her father turned and stormed out of the room, his feet slamming up the stairs. She heard the sound of a door being smashed shut. Then she ran to her mother who had managed to drag herself up onto her knees. She caught the little girl and hugged her to her chest, feeling her own blood dripping slowly down her chin.
This time he'd gone too far.
June looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. It said ten thirty-five.
She had put Michelle to bed two hours before and had sat, alone, staring blankly at the television. There had been no sound from Ray. She had gone up there once and tried to open the door but found that he had locked it from the inside. She licked a tongue across the swollen cleft in her lip. The bastard must have fallen asleep. She had called his name but there had been no answer. Not a sound from inside the bedroom. She had then gone to the child's bedroom at the far end of the landing and peeked in. Michelle had been asleep, a ragged old Snoopy clutched between her tiny hands.
Then June had returned to the living room. She had sat there all this time. Wondering what to do. If Ray wouldn't open the door, she'd just have to sleep on the sofa. She gritted her teeth. God, would she give it to him in the morning!
She waited ten more minutes, until the hands of the clock had crawled onto ten forty five, then she moved quickly through the house, locking doors and windows, pulling plugs and prepared to go upstairs. She doublechecked the back door. Burglars had always been one of her biggest fears. Though, God knew, they had nothing worth taking. Nevertheless, she pulled the bolts tight, peering out of the small window into the darkness beyond. The street lights still glowed like trapped fireflies and one or two lamps burned in front rooms but apart from that, the street was quiet.
She closed the hall door behind her and walked wearily up the stairs. As she reached the landing, she cautiously opened the door to Michelle's room. The child was still sleeping. June smiled and pulled it shut. Then she padded along to her own bedroom. There was no sound from inside and she put her hand on the knob, expecting to find it twist impotently in her grip.
Instead, the door opened.
She half smiled. The sod must have come to his senses. June went in, closing the door quickly behind her. Mackenzie was lying in bed, his head covered by the blankets, facing away from her. She undressed quickly and slid into bed beside him. He grunted as she did so, a deep guttural sound which made her sit up. His body moved slightly and she saw his hand slowly pull the covers down. June found herself staring at the back of his head.
'Ray,' she whispered, touching his shoulder.
He didn't move.
'Ray.' She shook him harder and this time he rolled over and looked straight at her.
She would have screamed had he not fastened one powerful hand around her throat. He pulled her close and she felt and smelt his fetid breath on her face.
His eyes were gone.
No whites, no pupils. Nothing. Just two blood red orbs which swelled like crimson blisters from the dark skin which surrounded them. Saliva ran in a crystal river from both corners of his mouth, his red lips flecked with spittle. The nostrils flared as he tightened his grip on her throat and she made a gurgling noise and tried to pull his hand away.
He was on his knees now, above her, bringing more pressure down on her, as if he wanted to force her through the very bed itself. She struck out at him, her long fingernails raking his skin and tearing three bloody furrows but he kept up the pressure, that insane grin still smeared across his face. The rictus which showed his yellowed teeth, dripped mucous. June saw white stars dancing before her eyes and she knew she was blacking out. Then, suddenly, and with a force far beyond that of a normal man, he lifted her in that one hand and threw her across the room.
She slammed into the wall, cracking her head. June slumped down, clinging desperately to consciousness. She had one thought. One rational thought in a world gone mad. She must get to Michelle.