He had her by the hair, her face pressed into the worktop. She was sobbing as she clutched the knife and swung it towards him. He grabbed her, whispered in her ear, something about hurting Kit, he knew. She'd dropped the knife. Malcom seized it, his face full of drunken hate. He'd dropped Jeanette. He was coming to find Kit, the blade glinting...

Kit had run, out into the night, into the safety of the dark.

Malcolm was furious. He'd turned back, back to Jeanette. Kit didn't see what happened next, but he heard the screams. And then silence. Terrible silence.

Kit had been too afraid to move, trembling with...