Shane fell through the doorway when she opened it for him.
“Silly cow, you did that on purpose,” he said, spittle flying in her face.
“I didn’t. I heard you trying to . . . . “
“Oh, just shut up, Mags. Jesus. I’m only in the door and you’re starting.” He pushed her aside and kicked off his boots, leaving them in the hallway. Mags picked them up and followed him into the kitchen.
“Where’s dinner?”
“In the oven,” she said, glad she had the presence of mind to turn on the heating or he’d be kicking up a fuss about that as well. She put his boots away and waited while he took out some milk and drank straight from the carton. She ground her teeth, he was doing it just to annoy her.
Shane left the carton on the counter and opened the cooker. He observed the dried out meal in disgust. “Are you for fucking real? Am I supposed to eat this crap?”
“It’s after three in the morning, Shane, it was fine at dinnertime.” Mags had spent ages making it just the way he liked it. She wasn’t sure why she bothered.
He picked up the plate and threw it at the wall, barely missing her head. Tiny broken chips flew at her, sticking in her hair. She held up her head and watched him pass, annoyed rather than scared now. That was a brand new plate.
“Where were you until three in the morning, Shane?”
He ignored her, not wanting to listen to her nagging if he told her he’d been with some young one for the last few hours. Not that the girl would want the word spread around either. The teasing bitch had said no at the last minute but he couldn’t stop. Not when his business was falling apart – debt up to his eyeballs now. All of his assets were about to be liquidated just to pay some of the creditors. Everything he worked for was turning to piss before his eyes.
The idea filled him with an impotent rage that boiled up and spewed over, giving him heartburn. He turned back and punched Mags in the face. Enough to hurt her, but not enough to send her to hospital. She didn’t cry out, mores the pity, that always gave him a good excuse to hit twice.
He mumbled something under his breath and thought about the girl’s cries of protest. He pictured her in Mags place, tried to get himself going, but nothing happened. He roared, an incoherent roar, and raised his fists in the air, looking all the world like an ape.
Mags stared at him, her chin trembling. Years and years of this shit, it had gotten old a long time ago. The only thing keeping her around was money and he hadn’t given her any of that in months, the greedy bastard.
He punched the wall and howled with pain when the resounding crack of his knuckles reverberated throughout his body.
“Fucking hell.” Tears burned his eyes. Fucking business. All those years of hard work for nothing. He couldn’t even get a decent dinner from the bitch.
“You better not wake the kids with your noise.”
That nagging woman again.
“The kids, the kids! Always the fucking kids. They’re not my fucking kids! I don’t give two fucks if they wake up!”
He pointed his finger right in her face. Her eyes crossed and she batted his hand away. He pushed her to the floor and stalked away, kicking the pregnant cat in the stomach. The cat yowled and fled out an open window, leaving a few drops of blood in her wake.
“Leave my cat alone!”
Mags gasped in horror at her daughter’s scream. No, baby, not now. Not when he’s in the height of it.
Shane was already leering in the girl’s direction. Thirteen years old. Not his child. Fuck, why did she ever move in with such a monster. Mags saw his fist curl and ran back into the kitchen, picking up a knife, anything to threaten him with.
She got to him just as he lifted his arm to hit her precious daughter. Darling, darling, darling, so sorry, so sorry, so sorry. The knife slid into his back – easier than she had expected. He gave a little grunt and turned around slowly, so very slowly.
Ignoring the wide eyes of her daughter, Mags sank the knife deep into Shane’s chest – every punch, every kick, every bad word giving her the strength. She had already been sick of him, he had to go and push her too far. Well, fuck him. He should never have raised his hand to her child. Not ever.
Shane’s mouth widened into an O shape as he sank to the ground and gazed up at her for a few seconds, unable to move.
“That’ll teach you, you bastard. I win. Me.”
Blood flowed, soaking her slippers ruby red. His last gasp was noisy, it almost made her laugh. Almost.
She sat down on the floor, edging away from the pool of blood, and looked up at her daughter.
The girl kicked Shane, hatred seeping from her pores, and nodded at her mother. “Thanks, Ma.”