Watching him thinking he’s watching me, anyway. I slipped out through the back and went into one of the other houses facing his. Fucker’s been looking in the wrong place. And I’m scared and I don’t want to do this, but I know I have to. The things I said to Gabby have been running round and round my head since we spoke. He’s not just taking care of himself, he’s killing our kids. He’s been out of sight for almost an hour, and I reckon that’s it. He’s sleeping, he must be. Time to move. I head straight for his house, axe in hand, and before I have chance to talk myself out of it, I smash the front door lock. It takes two more strikes before it gives way. I kick it open. He’s downstairs before I’m inside. Look at him, useless piece of shit. He stands there in front of me in a grubby vest and dirty shorts and all I can think is this filthy little cunt thought he mattered more than my kids. ‘Stuart... what the hell...?’ ‘What did I tell you?’ I say to him, and he shakes his head and screws up his face like he doesn’t understand.
