Redemption

Dmitry

"NO!" her mum roared. She yanked back on Abby's shoulder and propelled her all the way back into the living room. She staggered to a stop in front of James Bond.

Her mum walked backwards, keeping herself between Abby and the man at the door. Man? Probably something else.

"I'm sorry, Abby," her mum said without looking around. "I'm so sorry."

"Who is that guy?" Abby asked, her voice a few octaves too high. "What is he?"

The front door imploded. Shards of glass shot towards them like jagged bullets. Her mum screamed and fell backwards. She crashed into Abby and they collapsed to the floor. Some pieces of glass struck Abby's limbs but her mother took the worst.

Dmitry lowered his fist and stepped through the ruined door.

Abby scrambled out from under her mother, ignoring the jagged glass and splinters digging into her hands and feet. She backed up past her armchair until her shoulders hit something solid. The back door. What do they do? Run outside and try to outpace the hideous dogs? Or stay inside with a man who her mother knew and was clearly terrified of?

Her mum struggled to her feet in the middle of the room, not taking her eyes off Dmitry. She stood her ground and Abby felt a pang of guilt; she wasn't a little girl, she didn't need to hide behind her mother. If only she wasn't so scared.

"How did you find us," said her mum. She spoke loudly, as though forcing out confidence, but it only accentuated the tremor in her voice.

Dmitry strolled closer. "I have contacts everywhere, dear one. Although, you may believe some of them to be your contacts."

"I was betrayed? By who?"

Abby got her feet under herself and pushed her shoulders up along the door. Her hands shook and her knees almost failed twice, but she got to her feet just as Dmitry reached her mother.

"None of that matters, daughter."

Her mum lashed out with her right fist, her swing directed at the corner of Dmitry's jaw. He snatched her fist out of the air but her left hand slapped him with a sharp crack across his cheek. Dmitry's head didn't even shift with the impact. Her mum tried to twist her right hand out of his grip but he was too strong.

A red smear trailed from his ear down across the corner of his mouth. He was cut! That meant he was human after all, just wearing some sort of Hollywood makeup. And if he was human, he could be beaten, or at least held off for long enough until the police came. Abby looked around for a phone – she'd left hers in her room but perhaps her parents had left one of theirs nearby. Then she saw the blood dripping from her mother's left hand, landing in fat drops on the glass-strewn floor.

She looked back at Dmitry. He wasn't cut at all. In fact, he still looked amused. His tongue, dark and cracked like old linoleum, slid out and licked at the blood. Her mum's blood. He closed his eyes and rolled his tongue around like he was tasting wine. Abby nearly gagged. His foul smile actually broadened.

"So nice of you to offer me an appetiser," he said.

His grip on her mum's hand tightened until her bones grated together. Her knees bent and a groan of pain escaped her lips.

"We won't go with you, Dmitry," she said through clenched teeth.

Dmitry barked out a laugh. "You're partly right. I don't need two of you." His eyes flicked up to Abby. "I prefer the young ones, anyway."

"Abby, run," her mum said without turning around. "Don't let them take you alive."

Dmitry smirked at her mum, then at Abby. "Yes, Abby, run. I will, of course, find you. But you can go ahead and run for now."

"You will leave her ALONE," her mum screamed, struggling uselessly against his grip.

He let go of her mum's hand and grabbed her throat. He wrenched her around and pinned her against the wall beside the TV, her feet dangling, her breath chocked in her windpipe. She punched his face and bones snapped, her hand warped and ruined. She battered at him with her feet and knees, her bleeding hand and both elbows, but the impacts were utterly ineffective.

Ignoring the blows he turned his scarred face to Abby. "See you soon."

Her mum looked at her, terror bulging in her eyes. Run, she mouthed.

Abby heard herself sob as she turned away from the horror, away from the sight of her mother choking and pleading and fighting and losing.

She wrenched the back door open and fled into the night.