“Yeah, your bloody boyfriend did this to me.” He pointed at his face.

“Did you play rugby against him?” I asked thinking he looked a bit weedy to play rugby against Simon.

“No, I hit you off your bike, remember?”

I stepped back, the black hoodie looked familiar. “No, I don’t why?”

“I’d ha’ thought you’d remember me stabbing you.”

I felt a reflex pain in my chest and difficulty in breathing. I gasped and he smirked at me. “You remember me now, don’cha?” I nodded my response, still gasping for breath although he hadn’t actually touched me.

“Darren Entwistle?” I managed to get out, and he nodded and showed me that deformed grin–but then Simon had hit him in the face with his bike frame.

“I nearly died,” I gasped and felt some fear and anger growing in me.

“But’cha didn’t, look at me face.” I did and he was definitely deformed.

“I thought you were still in prison?” I was still having difficulty breathing properly and if he made any sort of move I’d be unable to run away–my legs felt like lead.

“Nah, out on parole.”

“What d’you want?”

“Get me face fixed–you’re a rich bitch, so you can pay for it–as your shithead boyfriend done it.”

“You had just stabbed me.”

“So? He coulda just grabbed me.”

There was little point in arguing and I wondered if I forgave him and healed on him perhaps he’d leave me in peace. I certainly didn’t want him near the children. “You’d better come in.” As I said it I wondered if I’d made a huge mistake, but he stepped into the house very quickly.

“Nice place,” he said his eyes everywhere.

“It’s my father’s house.”

“Rich is he, your dad?”

“No, but he’s lived here a very long time.”

“Sit there,” I indicated a chair in the kitchen. To my astonishment he did as I told him. “I might be able to fix your mouth.”

“You a dentist?”

“No, but I have some skills.” I began to call up the blue light and within moments he was grunting and groaning as I held his face in my hands, hoping some of the energy would also heal his twisted mind. After a few moments, he stopped squeaking and I moved away, his face was not only restored but improved–he was actually better looking and his blotchy complexion looked much healthier–his prison pallor gone.

“What you done t’me?”

“Put right what was wrong, I hope.” I stepped back and he rose and felt his jaw and his teeth which were now straight and regular.

“Bleedin’ ’ell, tha’s a good trick innit?”

“It isn’t a trick, it’s for real.”

He saw the mirror and walked towards it. “Bleedin’ ’ell, I look friggin’ ’an’some. Don’cha just fancy me and wanna ’ave sex wi’ me?”

“Certainly not–you tried to kill me, so you’re about the last person I’d want to have intimacies with.”

“Look at ya, big words an’ a education, big ’ouse and yet ya still shittin’ ya self, in ya?”

“I’ve sorted your face, now I’d like you to go.”

“I will once I done somethin’.”

“Do what?” I asked hoping it wasn’t anything too unpleasant.

“This,” he said and with that he pulled a large kitchen knife from the block and before I could move he stuck it into my abdomen. It felt like he’d punched me. I screamed but all the came out of my mouth was blood. He stepped back laughing as I staggered and fell backwards against the kitchen unit. “At least they woan ’ave too much problem cleanin’ up the blood, byeee.”

I saw a pool of blood building up on the tiled floor and heard the front door close as he left. I tried to call for help but my voice was croaky and my mouth tasted of blood. I felt my body weakening as my life force leaked out with the increasing pool of blood. I hoped it wasn’t one of the children who found me.

“Poor Catherine, still worrying about others.” With tired eyes I glanced up at the old woman standing there. “You’re too weak to be our emissary, too soft and good natured, though we thought you had your priorities wrong in the supermarket–you should have tried to save us, not apprehend the culprit.”

If she was the same as the woman who’d been hit by the trolley, I didn’t recognise her. I coughed and more blood oozed from my mouth and stomach.

“So weak and good intentioned, you forgave him, healed him and then he kills you–what a fool you are to have let him of all people near a collection of knives. Oh well, and to think you could have healed yourself.”

I felt myself slump down, sliding down the unit lying now in my own blood, choking on it, knowing my life would soon be over.