Eddie's hand stopped a foot from Ellie's red face. He sucked so hard on his cigarette that it had to either explode or be inhaled. Hid hand was curiously steady for a drinker of his prodigiousness.
His voice was low. "Ellie, you know you can't say things like that to me." He paused as though struggling with an original idea. "They make me angry."
"Oh Eddie! What fucking difference does that make?"
Eddie lowered his now shaking hand and stepped back. He turned away from Ellie and placed his hands on the crummy kitchen worktop.
Ellie stood still, unsure of the next move.
When he turned back round his face was red and the cigarette had gone. In his unsteady hand he held the larger kitchen knife, still showing blood from its earlier use.
Ellie's eyes went wide. And then wider, as Eddie sunk the knife into her left side, high up where he thought the heart might be. He didn't pull it back out.
She slumped to her knees, wide eyes sagging. The knife dug deeper as she fell on her side, and blood frothed from the increased gash.
Eddie stared at the corpse. He didn't know what to do. He'd never had to clean the floor before.
* * *
Maude and Pritchard woke together, as twins are wont to. They knew something wasn't right. The house was too quiet. Mum should have been making noise somewhere, but she wasn't.
They clambered from their bunks, thin legs protruding from ill-fitting pyjamas, goose pimpled and pale. Light had penetrated the worn curtains; they were already late for school.
They arrived downstairs to find Dad in the kitchen. This was a joyful surprise. "Dad! What are you doing here? Where's Mum?"
"She's gone away for a bit. On holiday."
The twins knew their Dad never really looked good, but they could both sense something was very wrong. His eyes were more red than white and the hand holding his cigarette was shaking so much that the lit tip was glowing red hot.
"The floor's wet Dad. Did you spill something?"
Eddie said nothing but made an odd noise. His children noticed this, but didn't say, the inexperience of youth overruled by the survival instinct of millennia.
They made their own breakfast that morning, but both thought the cornflakes tasted funny. Eddie ate nothing.
