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‘I don’t,’ she said. ‘I don’t ever fucking learn.’
The look of confusion turned to one of alarm as she threw the covers back and sprang to her feet, her left hand – the painful one, the one she had mutilated – outstretched, thrusting towards the man’s face.
His eyes followed it, widening as he saw what she had done to it and understood the situation he was in.
Understood that things had changed.
The movement sent pain shooting up her arm, but she was able to ignore it. In fact, she welcomed it. It was the price she had to pay for freedom, and she paid it willingly.
Her hand reached the man’s face and she clawed at it, listening to him squeal in pain.
She screamed in triumph. There was blood everywhere.
Lots of blood.
His blood.
For she was transformed.
She had talons.
2
The man screamed and jumped back. He clutched his face, his right hand covering the wounds. Blood oozed out from under his palm. He backed towards the door, his other hand scrabbling for the key.
‘What?’ he said. ‘What are you – how?’
Maggie stepped towards him. She looked at her left hand. Her fingers were mottled and bruised and the pain was like a bright light, but she didn’t care. It was working.
And she was only getting started. In her right hand she had another surprise.
The idea had come when she had stood on the Duplo. The brick was large, about two inches by two inches, and the plastic was hard.
These are hard, she had said to Max. And she had thought I’m glad it’s not broken. The edge would be like a knife.
It had all come to her in a rush. She had put Max on the mattress.
Stay there. Mummy has to do something.
She picked up the Duplo brick and took it to the bath. She lay it on the carpet, then lifted the wooden base of the bath and slammed it down on the Duplo.
It squirted away, unbroken. She placed it against the floor and hit it again, then again and again and again. The hard plastic Duplo split in two.
She picked it up and ran her fingers along the edge. It was as sharp as she had thought it would be. She took it and drew it across the skin of her forearm, pressing it down hard. It left a thin red line. As she watched, blood welled up in it.
Max was indignant. Mummy! What are you doing? That’s my toy!
It’s OK, darling. I’ll get you some more.
Maggie stared at the broken Duplo. This was it. This was the weapon she needed. She could make lots of them, pick the sharpest and use them to attack the man. But how? She was hardly going to do much damage by coming at him with a piece of Duplo Lego held in her hands. She needed something to attach the plastic to, some kind of club.
She looked around the room. She already knew there was nothing. Just the clothes and the bleach and the sewing kit.
The sewing kit.
She took a deep breath.
It might work. It really might.
