Jessie sighed. ‘No one liked her anyway. You did us all a favour. I bet my dad would shake your hand if he knew.’
The man was sitting on the bed, staring at her, but she knew he wasn’t seeing her – he was once more on his own private planet. What kind of person was he to kill an old lady, and show the pictures to her grandchild? Her fear of him was gone. She was dying – it was only a matter of time now. But she would die without giving this fucker another inch – she was not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing she was frightened of him any more. Seeing her nana Hannah like that, so brutally murdered, was the last straw. As tired and as ill as she felt, she wasn’t going to let him think that he had broken her completely. Her nana Hannah deserved that much from her, surely?
She made herself laugh then, a low, deep-throated chuckle. ‘God, I bet she was surprised to see you, eh? Hannah Flynn, the hardest woman in the East End, murdered on her doorstep. It’s so ironic. You’re lucky she didn’t stab you first.’
She could sense the man was annoyed with her. He didn’t like what she was saying, and that suited her – she hoped he would do the kind thing and finish her off as well. It wasn’t as if she was ever going to leave this place alive. He had already made that abundantly clear to her.
‘Me and my dad have had more fights than Michael Tyson. We loathe each other. My mum hasn’t left the house for fucking years, she lives in two rooms and she’s a hoarder. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? She keeps everything, every scrap of paper, every fucking thing that someone she loves has touched. It’s mental, I tell you. She still has sweet wrappers from when I was a toddler. And I can tell you now, mister, the minute I went on the missing list my dad would have made sure my mum had more bodyguards than fucking Whitney Houston. He adores her – she’s his reason for living. When you deliver my body, as you promised, he will hunt you down like a dog, but not because of what you’ve done to me – he won’t give a flying fuck about that. He will come after you, because you took something he owned. It’s all about face with my dad, about front.’ She laughed again, much harder this time. She could see the bafflement on his face and was enjoying his discomfort, and the knowledge that she had royally pissed all over his fireworks. If nothing else, she was going to make sure he didn’t have the last laugh.
The man stood up abruptly, and she looked him right in the eyes. Then he punched her hard in her face. She didn’t react, she let him hit her, and even as she felt her eye begin to swell, she still didn’t say anything.
Suddenly, he was shouting at her, a deafening roar that was as unexpected at it was potent. ‘I will not allow you to laugh at me. I will not let you do that.’
He hit her again, this time on her jaw. It was an uppercut, and she felt the blow snap her head back with its power. The next punch hit her straight in the mouth; he was so much stronger than she would have believed possible. Her lip split open and it started to bleed profusely. She could taste her own blood, feel it as it dripped down her face. She instinctively braced herself for the next onslaught, but it didn’t come. She heard him walking away from her, leaving her all alone once more.
She didn’t move. She waited until she heard the door clang shut, and then she opened her eyes, glad to be by herself again. She couldn’t help feeling like she had won something. It was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. She spat the blood out of her mouth. She could feel the throb of her eye as it started to close, and the stinging from the cut on her lip. She tried to pull herself up into a sitting position, but she couldn’t manage it. She welcomed the pain from her face; the fresh hurt took her mind off her other ills. She lay there, unable to move her body any more, praying to God for sleep to take her. While she was asleep she couldn’t feel pain, she wasn’t reminded of the state she was in, or the fact she was going to die chained to a bed. She couldn’t think about how she had neglected her little son, or how she had wasted her young life, and all because she had seen the dark side of her parents’ lives. Jake had been a constant reminder of her mistakes – she had always seen him as a symbol of her stupidity. Now, after this, she would give anything to turn back the clock, and do everything right – do what her father had urged her to do from the very beginning: stand up and face her responsibilities. She had fought him every step of the way and now it seemed so fucking futile. She had lain here and thought it over in depth, and accepted that she had not hurt anyone except herself.
She looked up at the ceiling. Her tears were rolling down her face – she could feel them dripping into her ears, and she didn’t even wipe them away.
Chapter One Hundred