Harry lifted the broken catch on the window in the downstairs toilet and eased himself through it. He stuck. His jeans pocket was snagged on the latch. Wiggling from side to side, he fought panic and rising claustrophobia. He mustn’t get caught in this situation. He needed to reach Ruby and talk some sense into her. If anyone could get through to her, he could. Talking about slaughtering everyone they were angry with was all well and good, but actually doing it? No chance.

No one was dying tonight. Especially not Ruby.

On the way over he’d repeat dialled her. All he’d got was a message saying her phone was unavailable and to try again later.

He needed to get to her – fast.

Another frantic wiggle. He pulled and pulled and pulled and yes! It gave, making him lurch forward. He slithered onto the toilet. Good job he was skinny as a whippet because otherwise there was no way he would have got through. In a few years’ time, he knew he would have broad shoulders like his deadbeat dad, but right now he was still slim from shoulder to hip, long-legged and a little gawky in his tight jeans.

Good job, too, that the loo seat was down and he was able to put his hands on it and twist around until he was standing right way up.

Tensing every muscle, he waited, not daring to breathe. Had anyone heard him? There were no telltale creaks of floorboards, no sound of footsteps.

---

A maelstrom of emotions threatened to tear Ruby apart as she watched her mum reading the ‘Book of Hate’, full realisation hitting her. Ruby hadn’t wanted this complication, not after she thought she’d found clarity and peace.

Before her mum had burst in, while sitting on her bed, crying, she had realised that, for all her anger at her parents, she couldn’t hurt them. Ever. Truth was, she loved them to bits – even if they didn’t love her. Ruby wanted only to die herself. To slip away quietly, peacefully, and have the pain finished once and for all.

That was the last thing she had written in the ‘Book of Hate’. She had apologised for all the other terrible things written inside the notepad, and promised that she hadn’t meant any of them. She had told her family how much they meant to her, and that the happiest moments of her life had been when she was with them, and with Harry.

Now, watching her mother reach the end of the farewell note, and the pain it inflicted, Ruby was horrified. But she knew she couldn’t face living another day.

‘I’m a freak,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t go on.’

‘Let me help you, Ruby. Please. I have let you down so badly. But let me help you now. We can get through this, together.’

Her mum was begging her. The usual tone, the distance she always kept between herself and her daughter, had disappeared. Perhaps it was an act; after all, her mother had betrayed her before, had said she would be on her side against Dad and that Ruby would be able to leave the private school. She didn’t know what to believe. Mum sounded so sincere.

Her mum’s warmth melted her resolve. Ruby began to rock, cradling the gun now, the only solid, reliable thing she could cling to. She needed the pain to stop. She needed her mum to shut up! Ruby’s thoughts were becoming a confusing whirl and she couldn’t seem to grab onto a single one and hold it for more than a second.

‘No, no, I don’t trust you. And you’ll send Mouse to that same school. You’ve got her a smartphone for Christmas, Mum. She’s only eight, and you’re opening her up to a world of hate. She’s weird. She reads all the time and says odd things, and is way older than she should be, but way more childish, too. She’ll get torn apart out there, cyber bullied non-stop. I – I’ve tried to toughen her up, for her sake, but she doesn’t get it – she keeps drawing me bloody pictures to cheer me up, when I’m a total bitch to her. Think what the bullies will do with someone that soft.

‘I love her to bits, and the thought of someone hurting her kills me. I have to protect her, no matter what. I have to save her from the same pain I’ve suffered. That’s why I thought it would be better if… if she… if she died before the torture starts. But now I know the only way to save Mouse is if I kill myself. Then you’ll take more care to protect her.’

---

Harry crept through the house, hoping that no one was up yet and he would get to Ruby in time. Through the kitchen he went, the dining room, the living room, past the entrance of Ruby’s dad’s study…

Jeez! Her dad was in there.

Harry froze, giving a sharp intake of breath. Benjamin’s own breath caught, then sighed out. Phew, he was fast asleep. His head slightly back, mouth open a tiny amount. He looked dead to the world, his breathing shallow. Despite the circumstance, Harry couldn’t help grinning when he thought of how shocked Benjamin would be if he woke and saw the teenager standing over him. The yell of surprise he’d give. He’d wet his pants, for sure. It was almost worth it for that.

But no, Harry had far more serious things to do than scare Mr Thomas. Moving even more cautiously now, Harry slipped through the darkness. It wouldn’t be long until everyone started to stir to open their presents. He didn’t have much time left. And this had to work. It had to. He and Ruby were soulmates, meant to be together. He couldn’t let her hurt the people she loved. If she did it, the best-case scenario was she’d be locked up for life; in which case, his mum would probably never allow him to see her again.

The worst-case scenario was that Ruby would kill herself after the massacre. Harry couldn’t live without his girl.

As he crept along the landing, he had a sudden thought. Mouse. She was always into everything, always hanging around. What if she heard something? He couldn’t risk her overhearing what he was going to say to Ruby – and also, he couldn’t risk the kid getting hurt if he couldn’t stop his girlfriend from her killing spree.

He tiptoed over to the youngster’s bedroom door, wondering how he could block it. It opened inwards, so putting anything against it was useless. He saw the nail poking out of the doorframe, pointing at him accusingly, and had an idea. Tugged the shoelace out of one of his boots, then wrapped it around the protruding nail and the doorknob. That should keep it secure.

---

Mouse’s eyes flew open. She’d heard something. She was sure of it. Was someone sneaking around?

Santa.

Grabbing her teddy, she slipped her feet into her slippers, thought for a moment, then kicked them off again. She could move around more quietly if she had bare feet.

Hugging Ted tightly, she padded over to her door. Placed her ear against the cool wood and listened. Was that someone out there? She dropped to her knees and peered through the crack under the door, trying to see if she could make out a shadow moving.

There. She was certain she had seen something. She strained to listen and, yes, there it was, footsteps.

She waited for the person to move away, counted to ten to be certain, because she didn’t want Father Christmas to know she was awake, then turned the door handle. But the door wouldn’t budge.

Fear shivered through her. Until she remembered her dream, which had seemed so real. Aslan had wanted her to be brave.

So she would be.