Black & Blue: Where it all began…… (D.S Hunter Kerr) by Michael Fowler
Authors: Michael Fowler
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his mind – revenge.
* * * * *
Kim Davies had not slept. Even though that young cop had assured her that the night shift would make regular passing patrols she had become a nervous bundle the moment he had left her flat. She’d secured the door as best she could, even wedging a chair under the handle for extra security – she’d seen it done on the telly – but it had not helped her sleep. She’d twice heard a car below her window and peeked out through the curtains. It was a police car, as promised and yet she still felt uneasy. Finally, as dawn broke, and realising sleep was still a long way off, she slipped on her dressing gown and made her downstairs to the kitchen to make herself a coffee.
At the bottom of the stairs she paused and gazed in the hallway mirror. Her reflection was not a pretty sight. Rheumy, panda-like eyes stared back. Taking a step nearer she pulled away the collar of her dressing gown and viewed the ugly marks her boyfriend had left behind on her neck. She delicately traced a finger around the tender wheals. They were beginning to bruise. Her scalp was sore as well where he had yanked out chunks of her hair. Pulling back her focus she took in the upper part of her image. A tear formed in the corner of an eye. She blinked it away. How had she put it with this for so long
Suddenly , the clattering of milk bottles outside her door brought her thoughts back.
The milkman’s here, she thought, and began to drag the chair away from under the handle.
* * * * *
Back pressed against a tree, clenching and unclenching his hands, Peter Jackson stared up at the flat where his girlfriend lived. He was shaking. Not from the chill of early morning, but from the pent-up homicidal fury rampaging inside.
That bitch had sold him out to the cops and now it was time to make her to pay.
Fixing his angry stare upon the curtain-closed windows of Kim’s first floor flat while thinking through how he could get in there without causing too much fuss, and catching her unawares, the whine of an electric milk float going towards the block suddenly gave him an idea.
He launched himself away from the trunk and broke into a jog.
Slowing his pace, w aiting for the milkman to enter by the main doors, Peter caught the door before it fastened behind. He entered the ground floor hallway to see the milkman beginning his climb to the first floor.
“I’ll take th at mate,” Peter said in a low voice, stepping towards him and holding out a hand.
The milkman turned and with a recognising look said, “I don’t normally see you at this time in the morning.”
“Got a new job. Been on nights this week. Soon be tucked up in a warm bed though.”
The milkman removed a pint of milk from his wire basket and handed it over. Turning back and slipping past Peter he said, “Jammy bugger.”
Peter mounted the concrete stairs quickly and reaching the landing he glanced downwards. The milkman was nowhere in sight. Knowing Kim’s routine he chinked the bottle loudly against the wall and stepped to one side.
Within a few seconds he heard a noise behind the door. Something was being pulled back, then, he heard the key turn and the safety chain unlatch.
A tingling sensation coursed through his body and crouching into a squat he tensed.
As the door cracked open Peter launched himself. The force of his thrust spiralled Kim backwards smacking her against the hall wall.
A groan exploded from her mouth as Peter made a lunge. He made a grab for her short wrap dressing gown but the satin material slipped through his fingers and she slid sideways to the floor throwing him off balance. He tumbled against the staircase and had to snatch a hand over the top rail to stop from falling.
Kim let out a piercing scream.
“Shut up, you fucking bitch,” he yelled and lashed out with a foot. It caught the top of her arm.
He pulled back his foot again , but before he could deliver the second kick Kim shot up her leg and
* * * * *
Kim Davies had not slept. Even though that young cop had assured her that the night shift would make regular passing patrols she had become a nervous bundle the moment he had left her flat. She’d secured the door as best she could, even wedging a chair under the handle for extra security – she’d seen it done on the telly – but it had not helped her sleep. She’d twice heard a car below her window and peeked out through the curtains. It was a police car, as promised and yet she still felt uneasy. Finally, as dawn broke, and realising sleep was still a long way off, she slipped on her dressing gown and made her downstairs to the kitchen to make herself a coffee.
At the bottom of the stairs she paused and gazed in the hallway mirror. Her reflection was not a pretty sight. Rheumy, panda-like eyes stared back. Taking a step nearer she pulled away the collar of her dressing gown and viewed the ugly marks her boyfriend had left behind on her neck. She delicately traced a finger around the tender wheals. They were beginning to bruise. Her scalp was sore as well where he had yanked out chunks of her hair. Pulling back her focus she took in the upper part of her image. A tear formed in the corner of an eye. She blinked it away. How had she put it with this for so long
Suddenly , the clattering of milk bottles outside her door brought her thoughts back.
The milkman’s here, she thought, and began to drag the chair away from under the handle.
* * * * *
Back pressed against a tree, clenching and unclenching his hands, Peter Jackson stared up at the flat where his girlfriend lived. He was shaking. Not from the chill of early morning, but from the pent-up homicidal fury rampaging inside.
That bitch had sold him out to the cops and now it was time to make her to pay.
Fixing his angry stare upon the curtain-closed windows of Kim’s first floor flat while thinking through how he could get in there without causing too much fuss, and catching her unawares, the whine of an electric milk float going towards the block suddenly gave him an idea.
He launched himself away from the trunk and broke into a jog.
Slowing his pace, w aiting for the milkman to enter by the main doors, Peter caught the door before it fastened behind. He entered the ground floor hallway to see the milkman beginning his climb to the first floor.
“I’ll take th at mate,” Peter said in a low voice, stepping towards him and holding out a hand.
The milkman turned and with a recognising look said, “I don’t normally see you at this time in the morning.”
“Got a new job. Been on nights this week. Soon be tucked up in a warm bed though.”
The milkman removed a pint of milk from his wire basket and handed it over. Turning back and slipping past Peter he said, “Jammy bugger.”
Peter mounted the concrete stairs quickly and reaching the landing he glanced downwards. The milkman was nowhere in sight. Knowing Kim’s routine he chinked the bottle loudly against the wall and stepped to one side.
Within a few seconds he heard a noise behind the door. Something was being pulled back, then, he heard the key turn and the safety chain unlatch.
A tingling sensation coursed through his body and crouching into a squat he tensed.
As the door cracked open Peter launched himself. The force of his thrust spiralled Kim backwards smacking her against the hall wall.
A groan exploded from her mouth as Peter made a lunge. He made a grab for her short wrap dressing gown but the satin material slipped through his fingers and she slid sideways to the floor throwing him off balance. He tumbled against the staircase and had to snatch a hand over the top rail to stop from falling.
Kim let out a piercing scream.
“Shut up, you fucking bitch,” he yelled and lashed out with a foot. It caught the top of her arm.
He pulled back his foot again , but before he could deliver the second kick Kim shot up her leg and
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