Benjamin heard the shot. Heard the screaming. So did Harry. Both froze, glaring at the closed bedroom door. Benjamin recovered faster. Despite the drugs that were shutting down his system, the urge to get through that door and help his wife and children overwhelmed, pushing him on.

Muhammad Ali had a quote that would help. If only he could remember it. Something about only a man who has suffered defeat being capable of reaching right down into himself to find that extra ounce of strength to win an evenly matched bout.

Yes, that was Benjamin now.

For his wife, for his children, he dug deeper than he had known possible.

His body felt as wobbly as water, his vision swam. He lurched towards the Tiffany lamp. Raised it high. Brought it down with a sickening crunch onto Harry’s head.

Harry didn’t see it coming. He had his head turned and suddenly – wham. There were no stars, no ringing bells, only silence as the carpet rose to meet his face. His lips pursed, trying to form a single word. Ruby. After two blinks there was only darkness.

The man-child crumpled onto the lush carpet that Benjamin would never be able to pay off. Benjamin’s strength had all but gone. That last blow took everything he had. He fell beside Harry, panting with effort.

Dying. He was dying. He knew that with certainty, even though he couldn’t feel any pain. In fact, that was the most worrying thing, the total absence of agony; instead, he felt light as a feather, calm, and… what was the word? Serene, yes, serene.

He shook his head – why hadn’t he been able to think of the word? Why was he even trying to think of words? He’d been doing something, going somewhere…

Ruby’s bedroom. The shot.

With a huff of effort, he stood. Wobbled. Sank to his knees, crying in frustration. He tried to stand, tried to get his legs to do what his brain was saying. He went on all fours and tried to push up using his hands. They shook with effort. No strength in them. They felt strangely disconnected from the rest of him. It almost made him laugh – which was strange because his face was wet with tears.

Jelly legs. That’s what he had. Like a drunken teenager. Try as he might, he couldn’t stand, couldn’t get his legs firm and strong. He remembered the Christmas he and Dom had got drunk and danced all night in their tiny flat. Then made love on the scratchy sofa. He remembered the terror and joy of Ruby’s second Christmas, when she had taken her first steps and he had felt that already she was growing up and he would lose her. He’d run around their home putting cushions on every sharp corner, trying to protect her. He thought of reading bedtime stories to Amber, until she had got so good at reading that she had started reading them to him instead, until her eyes closed. He thought of the best days of his life, and not once did an expensive watch, or fancy pen enter his head.

He needed to reach his family now. He needed to protect them.

Benjamin blinked, eyes going in and out of focus. Sometimes everything seemed so sharp. As though he could see for the first time. Every lush fibre of the expensive carpet stood out clearly.

His face hit the floor. He let out a breath. Another. Softer than the last. Shallower, less substantial.

Fingers twitched, a mere reflex now. He had lost all control of his body. Mind skittering away.

Life was so short. It was over so quickly. And he had wasted it. Benjamin would never get old. He would never see his children grow up, or walk them down the aisle. He wouldn’t get to become a better person with their help, and put right the wrongs he had done. He wouldn’t be there for them in tough times, or share their triumphs and happiness.

Because he had put money before everything else.

What had he done?

---

The last thing to go through Dominique’s head, apart from the tight spray of shotgun pellets, was the image of her teenage daughter’s face. Ruby’s expression was so innocent as she stood before her mother. So young and wiped clean of the anger that had twisted it until so recently.

Ruby looked like Dominique’s little girl again.

It had been a long time since she saw her daughter, truly saw her, and the mother’s heart lifted.

Then she saw the shotgun slipping from Ruby’s grasp, her finger snagging, and being twisted with a crack, pulling the trigger back, even as Dom pushed her out of the way with a warning shout.

She knew what would happen. Knew that she was putting herself into the line of fire. It was the only way to save her daughter. Dominique was going to do exactly what she had promised – step up, protect her family, save Ruby.

In the final fraction of a second before the shotgun pellets exploded from the muzzle, Dominique gazed at her daughter and felt joy. Ruby knew she was loved, at last. There was no more hurt and bitterness on her face. Dom’s only regret in dying was that she wouldn’t be able to share Ruby’s bright future.

Then the pellets tore through her flesh and bone.

She died before the dusty, faintly sulphurous smell of shot wafted into the air.

---

What happened played in a loop over and over in Ruby’s mind. Accelerating with each viewing. Every time, she hoped it would stop. Normality restored. All one big, horrible mistake.

Faster, faster, faster.

‘Ruby, move!’ her mum screamed.

The teenager felt a blow to her side that sent her falling onto the bed, just as a deafening shot rang out. Mum’s head snapped back. A mist of vermillion filled the air. Hung momentarily, before creating a constellation pattern on the wall and ceiling, as Ruby’s mother slumped to the floor.

She was dead. Clearly. But Ruby couldn’t believe it. She tried to untangle her ruined finger from the trigger, causing it to go off again, pellets embedding into the ceiling. With an agonised whimper of terror and denial, she broke free at last. Dropping it, she rushed towards her mother, screaming.

There had to have been a mistake.

Ruby tumbled to her knees, and hauled her mum’s limp body into her arms. Held her, rocking, begging. So much blood, her skin sticky with it.

‘Come back to me, Mum. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it…’

A dusty, metallic smell hung in the air. Coppery. Ruby’s ears giving a tinnitus scream, eardrums damaged from the deafening blast. eeeeEEEEEEeeeee.

The shotgun stared at her. Hard. Cold. Unforgiving.

---

Mouse lay very, very still. She didn’t even breathe. It hurt to breathe. Finally, she stopped, and floated away on a cushion of blue, up, up and away, free as a bird. Like magic. Like all the best things she had read about.

Mummy was there, with Aslan. Waiting. Hugging her.

‘You’re no mouse, you’ve got the heart of a lion,’ Mummy whispered.

She felt warm and snuggly. She never wanted to leave.

‘I will always be here for you, sweetheart, watching. Even if you can’t see me, I’m there.’

What was Mummy talking about?

She wanted to hug her back, but couldn’t make her arms move. Mouse felt like she did when she swam underwater. The water made sounds all muffled and funny. And when she looked around everything seemed wiggly, and the colours weren’t right because she was looking through the waves. That’s how everything was now.

Mummy stopped hugging and pressed on the side of Mouse’s neck, firm. But when she spoke, her voice was like a man’s.

‘No, sir, nothing. She’s gone.’

Sir? Was she at school?

Everything around her started to fade. Like Mummy wasn’t real. Mouse managed to lift her hands up, trying to hold onto her, but somehow Mouse was on the bottom of a swimming pool and Mummy’s hands were on her chest, pushing down painfully as she counted.

‘One, two, three…’

The man’s voice joined in. Took over.

Mouse knew what she had to do now. She fought her way to the surface, kicking against the current that seemed to want to drag her back down, remembering Mummy’s words that she had the heart of a lion. Mouse fought and fought and…

‘Twenty-nine, thirty.’

A breath blew her upwards.

‘Wait. There’s a pulse,’ shouted the man.

He sounded very happy, like he’d just opened the best Christmas present ever.