A heavy knock on the door made Vicki jump. She put her iPad on the coffee table next to the fake crystal ashtray that weighed a ton. Stumbled across the room to her front door. Holding the door handle for balance, she looked through the peephole and saw a blurred vision of Mick. He had some sort of black bag in his hands. That was quick.
He banged on the door again and growled, ‘Open the fucking door if you want your shit, Vicki. I don’t have time for games!’
Vicki unchained the door and opened it slowly. She tried as hard as she could to look sober, but Mick’s face told her she was failing miserably. ‘’S’bout time. I need my keeeez!’ She reached out to grab the bag from Mick’s hand, but he pushed her back into her flat. Losing her balance, Vicki fell to the floor.
‘For fuck’s sake. You been drownin’ your sorrows or something? Fucking disgrace!’ he spat at her.
‘Fuck you! Just gimme my stuff and go!’ Vicki tried to grab Mick’s ankle to pull herself up, but he kicked her away and stood over her, pointing.
‘Listen to me, Vicki, I’ll only tell you once. Don’t. Ever. Threaten. Me. Again. Got it?’ His finger was so close to her face. Before she knew it, Vicki had taken hold of it in her mouth and bitten down.
A swift punch to the face released Mick’s finger and Vicki saw red. What Mick hadn’t realized about Vicki was she had a fiery temper. The violence she could unleash when alcohol fanned the flames could cause significant damage. Her previous convictions could attest to that. As if possessed, Vicki pulled herself up, and launched at him with her arms flailing. She managed to smack him to the side of the head, before he grabbed her arms and pinned her down on the couch.
Mick laughed in her face and with his forehead pressed against hers he mouthed, ‘Is that all you got, you little bitch?’
That was it. Vicki took the opportunity and headbutted Mick with as much force as she could muster. Her vision blurred, and it was too late for Vicki to react.
Mick grabbed her face and shouted. ‘All right, all right, bitch, is this how you want to play it?’
Shoving Vicki to the floor he sat across her chest and rained blow after blow to her face. He almost admired her resilience, but not so much that he was going to let her get the best of him. Vicki continued to grab at Mick’s shirt, nearly tearing it as she pulled him towards her and spat in his face. That was the last straw for Mick. He grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head against the floor.
His eyes darted around the room and he spotted the crude-looking ashtray on the coffee table. ‘If you breathe a word of this to anyone, anyone, I will hunt you down and finish the job.’ And with that, Mick smashed the ashtray in Vicki’s face repeatedly until she was a pulpy mess of flesh, blood, and broken teeth.
Breathing heavily, Mick sat back across Vicki’s legs, exhausted. Feisty bitch. But when the reality of the situation hit him, Mick was soon pacing around the room, looking for ways to avoid prison. He hadn’t touched anything unusual, given the fact he’d been in a ‘relationship’ with Vicki, so fingerprints could easily be explained. He grabbed a pair of gloves from under the kitchen sink and began tossing the place. If it looked like a robbery, it would place him out of the frame. He was under no illusion that he’d probably be questioned or arrested, but given that robbery wasn’t in his history, he reasoned that he should be released without charge while the police moved on, chasing ghosts. He happened across an old coffee jar in one of the cupboards, discovering a nice little stash of money inside. That would come in handy, but also help further the robbery scenario he’d devised in his mind. Mick pocketed it and looked around the flat. Once satisfied that it would throw the police off the trail, he washed his face and hands in the kitchen sink, and then made his way to the front door. Voices in the hallway stopped him dead. He waited, breathing heavily, until he heard a door close. Taking a chance, he looked out the door to check the coast was clear.
Mick snuck out through the empty hallway and shoved the rubber gloves in his pockets. Using the key that Vicki had left at his flat, Mick locked the door behind him. That would delay any chance of someone just randomly walking into the flat and coming across the bloody mess that lay on the floor. He used the stairs to avoid meeting anyone in the lift.
It was now dark outside, so Mick was confident that any blood on his clothes would be difficult to see by passers-by. He pulled his coat around him and, with his hands in his pockets, made the reasonably short journey back to his flat in record time.