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LONDON, ENGLAND. 1980 THE woman had stopped trying to defend herself, stopped screaming, stopped even crying and just lay in a crumpled heap on the wet road while above her the head lights of her car shone through the rain and the windscreen wipers still swished. Pettoe stepped away from her his teeth clamped down hard on the side of his own hand, blood mixing with the sweat and rain running down his face. His normally pale skin was reddened with exertion and the blood that flowed from the several scratches that the woman had managed to inflict. His dirty, pale red hair hung in greasy rats tails. When he had leapt in front of the car, gone in to his act on the road just in front of the wheels, he had not thought of anything but the usual. He had seen her at an intersection a couple of miles back, had noted that she was alone and pulled his motor cycle off the road . He looked down at her all scrunched up, not making any noise at all now. There was nothing he could do. It was unfair, he couldn't have known she was pregnant, no way could he have known that. He bent and touched her neck, she was wet and cold and there was a thin trickle of blood running from her mouth. |
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