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Authors: Ben Cheetham
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creeping under her skin, touching parts of her that she’d long since thought dead, and blotting out, if only for a brief instant, the coldness in her heart.
Angel glanced at the whiteboard. The girl’s name was Nicola Clarke. With one final lingering glance at Nicola, she turned towards the exit. She paused to grab a pen off the nurse’s desk and wrote ‘Nicola Clarke’ on the envelope of money. She left the envelope on the desk and hurried from the hospital.
Sitting on the bus back to the bedsit, watching the dreary streets pass by, Angel thought to herself that even if she was caught and spent the rest of her life in prison, it would be worth it just for that one moment of warmth.
Deano was waiting for Angel. As she stepped through the door, his fist caught her full in the face, knocking her to the floor. ‘You stupid little bitch!’ he bellowed, a vein throbbing between his eyes. ‘What the fuck have you done, eh?’
The salty metallic taste of blood filled Angel’s mouth as she flung up a hand to ward off the next blow. ‘What you talking about?’
‘You know what the fuck I’m talking about.’ Deano pulled up his t-shirt to reveal the gun stuffed into the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms. ‘Where did this come from?’
Angel realised there was no point lying. Whatever else Deano was, he wasn’t stupid. He knew as well as she did where the gun came from. He just wanted the satisfaction of hearing it from her mouth. Well, she wasn’t going to give it to him. Let the bastard do his worst. She gave Deano a look that said she could take whatever he could dish out. In reply, he flashed a scowling grin at her. Her defiance was like a bone to a hungry dog. Some men acted out their frustrations through sex, some through violence. Deano fell into the latter category. He liked nothing better than an excuse to beat up on someone physically weaker than him. Angel knew this, just as she knew he would go easier on her if she told him what he wanted to hear. Twenty-four hours earlier she probably would have caved in and confessed what had happened. But things had changed since then. She’d changed. She knew now what she was capable of. Deano was a thug, but he wasn’t a killer. It wasn’t her who should be scared, it was him.
‘Tell me I’m wrong, Grace,’ said Deano, swatting aside her hands. ‘Tell me you know fuck all about that dead guy.’
Fire flared in Angel’s eyes. ‘I told you not to fucking call me that.’
Deano replied with a punch that snapped Angel’s head backwards. ‘Don’t you realise what you’ve done? If the coppers find this thing here, we’ll both go down for murder. Accessories after the fact, that’s what they call it.’ He wrapped the fingers of one hand around Angel’s throat. His other hand hovered threateningly over her. ‘I want to know which of those bitches gave you the gun.’
A murmur of satisfaction passed through Angel as she realised that Deano thought she was hiding the gun for some other girl. It probably hadn’t even crossed his mind that she’d killed Castle. In his eyes, she was just another scared little lost girl who he could bend to his will. Well maybe she was lost in more ways than he even knew, but she wasn’t afraid. Not now. Not any more. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth as her lips curled into a grin. ‘I’m leaving you, Deano.’
His heroin-ravaged features twitched as though the words had hit him physically. He’d thought he had her so far under his thumb that she would never dare try to get away from him. ‘You don’t leave me. You’re my girl.’ He spoke quietly, with a tremor in his voice.
Angel knew what that tremor meant. It meant she was going to pay in bruises and blood for wounding Deano’s pride. But she didn’t care. Her head was dizzy from being hit, but also from the elation of knowing Deano no longer had any power over her. ‘Where’s my money?’ Her voice was hoarse with pain, but steady.
‘Your
Angel glanced at the whiteboard. The girl’s name was Nicola Clarke. With one final lingering glance at Nicola, she turned towards the exit. She paused to grab a pen off the nurse’s desk and wrote ‘Nicola Clarke’ on the envelope of money. She left the envelope on the desk and hurried from the hospital.
Sitting on the bus back to the bedsit, watching the dreary streets pass by, Angel thought to herself that even if she was caught and spent the rest of her life in prison, it would be worth it just for that one moment of warmth.
Deano was waiting for Angel. As she stepped through the door, his fist caught her full in the face, knocking her to the floor. ‘You stupid little bitch!’ he bellowed, a vein throbbing between his eyes. ‘What the fuck have you done, eh?’
The salty metallic taste of blood filled Angel’s mouth as she flung up a hand to ward off the next blow. ‘What you talking about?’
‘You know what the fuck I’m talking about.’ Deano pulled up his t-shirt to reveal the gun stuffed into the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms. ‘Where did this come from?’
Angel realised there was no point lying. Whatever else Deano was, he wasn’t stupid. He knew as well as she did where the gun came from. He just wanted the satisfaction of hearing it from her mouth. Well, she wasn’t going to give it to him. Let the bastard do his worst. She gave Deano a look that said she could take whatever he could dish out. In reply, he flashed a scowling grin at her. Her defiance was like a bone to a hungry dog. Some men acted out their frustrations through sex, some through violence. Deano fell into the latter category. He liked nothing better than an excuse to beat up on someone physically weaker than him. Angel knew this, just as she knew he would go easier on her if she told him what he wanted to hear. Twenty-four hours earlier she probably would have caved in and confessed what had happened. But things had changed since then. She’d changed. She knew now what she was capable of. Deano was a thug, but he wasn’t a killer. It wasn’t her who should be scared, it was him.
‘Tell me I’m wrong, Grace,’ said Deano, swatting aside her hands. ‘Tell me you know fuck all about that dead guy.’
Fire flared in Angel’s eyes. ‘I told you not to fucking call me that.’
Deano replied with a punch that snapped Angel’s head backwards. ‘Don’t you realise what you’ve done? If the coppers find this thing here, we’ll both go down for murder. Accessories after the fact, that’s what they call it.’ He wrapped the fingers of one hand around Angel’s throat. His other hand hovered threateningly over her. ‘I want to know which of those bitches gave you the gun.’
A murmur of satisfaction passed through Angel as she realised that Deano thought she was hiding the gun for some other girl. It probably hadn’t even crossed his mind that she’d killed Castle. In his eyes, she was just another scared little lost girl who he could bend to his will. Well maybe she was lost in more ways than he even knew, but she wasn’t afraid. Not now. Not any more. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth as her lips curled into a grin. ‘I’m leaving you, Deano.’
His heroin-ravaged features twitched as though the words had hit him physically. He’d thought he had her so far under his thumb that she would never dare try to get away from him. ‘You don’t leave me. You’re my girl.’ He spoke quietly, with a tremor in his voice.
Angel knew what that tremor meant. It meant she was going to pay in bruises and blood for wounding Deano’s pride. But she didn’t care. Her head was dizzy from being hit, but also from the elation of knowing Deano no longer had any power over her. ‘Where’s my money?’ Her voice was hoarse with pain, but steady.
‘Your
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