December 1999
      Jessica was sitting alone on a bench when she first met Graham. He was a short boy with freckles and strawberry blond hair that fell in front of his eyes whenever he turned his head. Graham was 15 years old, a year older than Jessica, but the age difference wasn’t noticeable. In fact, if you were to look at the two side by side you would think that Jessica was the eldest. She was marginally taller and had a slightly podgy touch to her features, almost as though she had been stretched sideways by whichever playful God had created her.
      It had been a mid-November lunch time when Graham first approached Jessica. Looking sheepishly through the hair in front of his eyes, he spoke.
      "D’ya mind if I join you? I don’t take up much space, but I will need to put my lunch box somewhere."
      Jessica looked up, trying to make contact with the eyes behind the hair.
      "Sure," she smiled. "Pull up a pew."
      "Thanks."
      They sat for a few minutes in silence, nibbling at their lunches, before speaking any further.
      "What have you got in your sandwiches?" Graham asked quietly.
      "Cheese n’ pickle. What you got?"
      "Slug jam."
      "Urgh." Jessica pulled a face. She tried to act disgusted. She tried, but the thought kind of thrilled her. Slug jam. Something out of the ordinary. Something disgusting. She tried it on for size. "Oh yeah? Well, I’ve got a slime milkshake!"
      Graham burst out laughing. He held his ribs and more strawberry blond hair fell in front of his freckled face.
      "You’re funny." he said. And he meant it.

      It was a month on from this first meeting that the two of them were once again sitting on what had become their usual lunch time bench. Their relationship had progressed so far that they were now holding hands, watching other school kids pass by. They were in love.
      "Mommy wants you to come to supper some time soon, Graham." Jessica said, breaking the silence between them.
      "She does? Is she going to like me?" He turned to face his girlfriend, brushing his hair aside with his free hand.
      "I dunno. I’ve told her loads of cool stuff about you, but I think her and Daddy want to check you out for themselves."
      Graham’s eyes widened.
      "You haven’t told them about our games, have you?" He gripped her hand hard.
      "No! Of course not. I’m not silly, you know."
      Graham relaxed and smiled.
      "Good girl. Well, I’ll have to make a date in my diary, won’t I? Keep a little time free in my busy schedule."
      "How does next Monday sound?"
      "Next Monday’s fine. I’ll be there, Jessica." Graham kissed her on the lips and proceeded to get a Biggy Bruno comic from his rucksack. He read it for the rest of the lunch time whilst Jessica, next to him, contemplated how far the games would actually go. Anyway, they weren’t the real games were they? Not yet. They were just preparation, a little lunch time planning here and there for the real thing. The real thing that Jessica doubted would ever actually happen. But if it did. If it did! The thought thrilled her. It thrilled her more than the slug jam and the slime milkshake put together. She wondered who would play the games with them and where they would be when they finally happened. It would be such fun. She had been protected from such things for too long.

      On the following Monday evening Jessica’s Mommy had prepared a wonderful supper for all the family, with the addition of Graham sitting next to Jessica. Each plate consisted of a succulent chicken breast in a rich gravy sauce surrounded by a sea of green peas. She carried them all to the dining table where she placed them in front of each family member in turn.
      "Dear, your cooking skills never fail to amaze me." said Jessica’s Daddy, beaming at his wife.
      "Nice, Mommy. Real nice." said Jessica.
      "Yuck! I hate peas." said Graham.
      Silence.
      Jessica’s Mommy and Daddy froze and Jessica herself looked guiltily down at her food. Both parents were completely stunned at the remark, but Jessica, although mildly stunned herself, had kind of been expecting it. It seemed to her that Graham had chosen the time, and the time was now. The games were beginning.

      It was on a Saturday, two weeks before Christmas that the big argument, the first argument ever, had broken out in the Dermont household. It was about Graham. Jessica’s Mommy and Daddy were keeping their voices hushed in an attempt to be civilised and Jessica was happy to oblige at first.
      "Jessica," her Mommy began. "Your father and I don’t want you to see Graham anymore. We think he’s a bad influence on you." She looked towards her husband for support. He gave it.
      "Yes, he is a disgusting child and we have already informed the school that we want you two separated. They said they’ll see that it happens." Jessica couldn’t help herself. A small tear began to roll down her left cheek. Deep inside she knew that they couldn’t do that. They just couldn’t. Graham and her were too strong. He had a way around everything. "We’ve come to an agreement that you will both alternate how you spend your lunch hours. One in the dining hall with the other children and one in a classroom under the supervision of a member of staff." Jessica’s Daddy saw the tear. "It’s for your own good, dear."
      "I don’t get it," said Jessica softly. "He’s my friend. My best friend. My only friend. Why would you do that to me?"
      "Sweetie," her mother soothed. "He’s a bad influence on you, and besides, you have many more friends. I know you do."
      "No, I have none." Jessica was sobbing slightly now.
      "Your mother’s right, Jessica, he is a bad influence on you. We’ve seen what he’s like, and we…"
      "Shut up, Daddy." Jessica interjected with a slightly raised tone. Her father’s face turned to disbelief. His daughter had never defied him so. She had always been a good girl and it had only been since the Graham boy had come into her life that she had changed. He’d put an end to it though.
      "What did you say?" he said. "Would you like to repeat that, missy?"
      "Well, let me see." Replied Jessica in a mocking tone. "Yes, I think I would like to repeat that. I said ‘shut up, Daddy’. Why? Is that wrong?" She had stopped sobbing now and was looking at her father with false confusion. The adrenaline had begun to pump through her system, making her braver than she had ever felt in her entire life. Graham was right, she really could stand up to these people, the rulers of her existence. She had the power. She raised her voice some more. "Why? Is that wrong, Daddy? Is it?" She was really beginning to revel in the pain in her parents’ disbelieving faces. There was more where that had come from. Plenty more. But if she had continued it at that moment it might have been too much, too soon.
      She turned her back on the argument and began to walk away from the scene.
      "Jessica," her father said calmly after her. "You won’t get your happy box this year if you misbehave like this."
      This shocked Jessica at first, and her face showed it. She loved getting the boxes. It showed improvement. Showed how well she had progressed. But then she thought of Graham and how much she loved him. Her face turned to one of pure hatred for her parents. She screwed up her features and whirled round to confront her father once more. This was it. The real clincher. Too much, too soon? No, it had already been far too long.
      "Fuck the stupid boxes!" she screamed. "And fuck you!" At those words her father clutched his chest. His heart was beating irregularly. Fluttering as though a small dove had been trapped there all his life and had now decided it was time to break free. He fell to the floor and his wife rushed to his aid, gasping his name. As for Jessica, she just turned, as she had before, and walked away. Up the stairs to her bedroom.

      The ambulance came to the scene about ten minutes later. Jessica had watched from her room as her Daddy had been loaded into it. She felt no remorse at all. In fact, she was disappointed, hungry for more. But, she reminded herself, the games hadn’t even begun and it had gotten this good already. The games hadn’t begun because her partner Graham hadn’t yet arrived.
      She rushed out of her room to phone him whilst her mother was still seeing the ambulance off.

      Later that same evening, Julie Demont was cooking supper. Supper for two. She hadn’t seen Jessica since her rather rude performance earlier but she was pretty sure the girl would be feeling bad about what had happened to her father. The poor man. He had worked so hard to bring that girl up and it had come as something of a shock that she would speak to him like that. Never mind, though. The paramedics had been able to tell her on the scene that he was going to be just fine and even George himself had told her not to worry, that she should stay home to take care of Jessica. So that’s what she did, and now she was…
      "Hello, Mommy."
      Julie jumped back from the food preparation table with a start. She spun round.
      "Jessica!" she gasped, taking a deep breath to regain her composure. "Have you got something to say to me, Jessica?
      Jessica looked at her mother with puppy eyes. A tear, similar to the one earlier, rolled down her face.
      "I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry about saying what I said. I’ve been naughty haven’t I? Is Daddy going to be all right?"
      Her Mommy gave a smile and shed a tear herself.
      "It’s all right dear, you are forgiven. Daddy is going to be just fine. He just needs a little check up, that’s all. He’ll be back by twelve."
      Jessica gave a small wavering smile and wiped away the tear.
      "Oh, goody. I was really worried, Mommy. I felt so bad. Like… like I’d killed him or something."
      Mommy offered a sympathetic smile, and her trademark soothing voice, for good measure.
      "Darling, you haven’t killed anybody. He’s going to be just fine. He’s a real fighter you’re father."
      Jessica widened her smile.
      "Are you a real fighter Mommy? Like Daddy?"
      "I wish I was, dear. I wish I had a heart of gold like your father. He is a good man and he didn’t deserve what he received today. Those words you said, Jessica, they really hurt him."
      Jessica kept the smile, but there was something new in her eyes. A sense of excitement, or the longing for something new and out of the ordinary. Like the slug jam.
      "Did the words hurt you Mommy? Just like Daddy?"
      "Not nearly as much dear. I don’t hurt as easy, you see. Thicker skinned."
      "Oh," said Jessica. "Is that so?"
      Graham, who had been creeping slowly through the doorway behind Jessica’s Mommy for the duration of the conversation, had taken the opportunity at that point to deal the woman a hefty blow to the back of the head. One that she would never forget. Not for the rest of her life. Needless to say, she hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

      Jessica’s Mommy awoke an hour later. She was gagged. Her view was fixed on the ceiling of the room and she was unable to move. The two children had decided to follow out their game plans and duct tape her firmly to one of the kitchen chairs, moving it afterwards into the living room. Her head had been taped back across the forehead to the high back of the chair with it tilted back in a way that meant all she could do was look up at the ceiling. She may as well have been paralysed, because the tape was holding firm, but she immediately began struggle, her screams muffled by the gag.
      Graham had brought with him to the house all the equipment that they were going to need that evening. He had packed it tightly into his school rucksack along with a new Biggy Bruno comic. At the time of Jessica’s Mommy’s waking up he was sitting in one of the room’s comfy armchairs, reading it, giggling to himself whenever he found one of the strips funny.
      Jessica was sitting by her mother in the centre of the room on another one of the kitchen chairs. She had her hand on her mother’s as though she was just a caring relative visiting a sick aunt in hospital. She gave the image a quick thought and chuckled slightly at it. Soon her Mommy would be very ill. Too ill even for hospital.
      Her mother began to struggle even more now, causing the chair to rock back and forth on its legs, whilst Jessica started to unpack some of the equipment from Graham’s bag. One half-bottle of bleach. One plastic funnel. One short length of rubber tubing. It was the bare essentials, Jessica thought.
      Jessica stopped for a moment to look at her mother’s face. It was a picture of pure terror. She smiled as she watched tears and sweat collect above her Mommy’s cheekbones, gathering up liquid as they did before trickling down her cheeks and dripping gleefully to the floor. The woman’s eyes were darting from side to side, trying desperately to lock their view on something other than the ceiling. The situation was hopeless for her and with her deteriorating energy, the struggling slowly subsided. However, it subsided only until Jessica, wanting more, stood up, towering above her mother, and thrust the three bits of equipment into her view. That set her off again and this time her scream blasted right through the gag. She spectacularly bounced half a metre backwards on her chair before toppling helplessly towards the floor. With nothing to slow her descent, her head received a full blow from the carpeted surface, again sending her flying into dream world.
      Now that Jessica’s Mommy was unconscious again the two kids could really get to work setting up the games. Jessica looked up from her fallen mother to Graham who had seemed completely oblivious to her previous activities. He was still engrossed in his comic book.
      "Graham, darling," Jessica said sweetly. "Could you give us a hand, please. Me and Mommy can’t do this all by ourselves, you know."
      Graham looked up from his reading and grinned.
      "Of course, dear." He got up from his seat and made his way towards the chair, still grinning. "Look out. Big strong man coming over."
      Jessica smiled a loving smile at Graham and then helped him to get the chair standing again. As soon as they had, Jessica spotted blood at the back of her mother’s head and frowned.
      "Oh no," she said. "Mommy’s broken her head."
      "Oh. Is she going to be okay?" asked Graham, seeming genuinely troubled.
      "I’m not sure," replied Jessica, a slight smirk forming on her face. "She’s still breathing, but… I fear she might not make it through the night."
      Both the children could barely contain themselves after that and eventually gave in to hysterical giggling on each side of the injured parent. They rolled on the floor until their stomachs hurt and, when the laughter finally subsided, they resumed their previous kneeling positions.
      "Pass me the rubber tube please Jessica," said Graham. "We’ve got work to do."

      George Dermont arrived back home at about 1 O’clock in the morning. He had taken the bus back from the hospital, feeling decidedly weary after all the tests he had undergone. Needles for blood samples, pills and fitness regimes. It had been a long night and now all he wanted to do was sleep; he could deal with Jessica in the morning. He knew what she was like anyway. In the morning she’d be as happy as Larry, no doubt apologising profusely for the pain she had caused him.
      Walking up the long gravel drive to his house, he thought hard about this.
      Jessica was such a lovely girl. Once they got her away from the Graham boy everything would be A-okay. Back to normal and back to being a loving, caring family. One that doesn’t get into silly fights over matters that can be resolved with a little consideration.
      He turned the key in the front door and swung it open quietly, taking his coat off and hanging it on the hook by the entrance. Then, catching a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye, he looked down the hallway.
      Jessica was standing by her mother, Julie. And Julie was…
      "What the f…"
      "Now, now Daddy," Jessica interjected, standing by her Mommy and grinning from ear to ear. "No need for the naughty words. Would you kiss your daughter with that dirty mouth?"
      George was speechless. What the hell could he say? The scene. Everything. His wife was unconscious, tied and bound to a chair. It was… impossible to understand. Impossible to take in. His life was crumbling around him as he made a run for the pair of them.
      As he ran past the living room doorway, Graham swung the bat, pounding Geaorge’s skull with a force that sending him flying backwards.
      "Strike one!" screamed Graham, emerging from the room. He looked down at his handiwork. "Ooh, he is out for the count, my girl. Look at him sleep there. Ain’t he cute?"
      "He is simply adorable, my dear." said Jessica, approaching the two of them. She held out the length of rope that she had been hiding behind her back.
      Graham nodded at her.
      "Time for the main event."

      It is common knowledge that bleach is an extremely damaging substance, consumption of which can cause vomiting, internal bleeding and, under the intake of substantial amounts, even death. However, it is a little known fact that a fully grown adult will suffer far more the effects of drinking the stuff than, say, a young child. The reasons for this, although not yet fully understood, are thought to be due to anxiety and fear. In short, a toddler who mistakes a bottle of bleach for a carton of Colin Cow’s Happy Milk will suffer much less than an adult who knows exactly what it was they accidentally sipped at.

      Julie Dermont knew full well that what she was about to receive was not a mouthful of Colin Cow’s Happy Milk. The bold black cross on the side of the bottle told her that much, as did her husbands screams.
      " Mr Dermont!" shrieked Graham. George, bound tight to another kitchen chair, stopped his screaming, instead issuing a series of stifled sobs that he couldn’t possibly hold back, no matter how hard he tried. He refused to look at the scene, pushing his chin hard down against his chest and peering into his lap. It was his own wife for Christ’s sake! They were doing this to his own wife!
      Graham grabbed George’s hair, yanking his head up, forcing him to look at the woman.
      " Mr Dermont." said Graham, whispering softly and slowly into the man’s ear. His voice was changed somehow. It was deeper and more well-spoken, denoting maturity of a kind that didn’t fit in with George’s previous encounters with the boy. It scared the hell out of him. "I have explained the rules to you once already. Your failure to follow any of them, to me suggests that you aren’t trying very hard. If you don’t try very hard, Mr Dermont, then you will lose the game. Now listen once more. We are about to feed your lovely wife a stomach-full of bleach, and you are being allowed to watch. If you keep a brave face and smile all the way through then you will live. However, if you start yelping and screaming, just like you were then, I will make sure you die a most painful death that far surpasses that of you wife’s. Do you understand now, Mr Dermont? "
      George did nothing. Staring through glazed tear-soaked eyes, he looked right past his wife and daughter. He was off somewhere else, somewhere far away that didn’t believe in such things as murdering daughters and psychopathic boyfriends. He was someplace else, gliding through an imaginary land where children frolicked together in playgrounds, shooting each other with plastic guns but never actual hurting anybody. Never actually injuring another person. Not another human being.
      And now Jessica was approaching him. Her eyes were teary and filled with a fiery anger that had come up from deep inside her very consciousness. Everything she had ever been through, everything she had ever been protected from, was about to stop. Things were to change and her Daddy was just an obstacle, a piece that didn’t fit into the over all jigsaw that formed her life.
      She stopped just short of the chair and, with Graham still pulling back on her Daddy’s hair, she leaned in close to his face.
      "Daddy." she spat. "You have shunned and steered me from the outside world for too long. For fourteen years I’ve been told not to do this and to avoid doing that, and now I want it to stop. Because when you treat a child like that, Daddy, they tend to keep everything inside. And when that happens you turn them into a time bomb. A ticking, walking, all-action time bomb," Jessica paused for a while as her angry features slowly changed to a sly smile. She was whispering now. "Do you know what happens when the time bomb stops ticking, Daddy?"
      George had returned from his fantasy world and was now looking hard into his daughter’s eyes. He shook his head slowly for as much as Graham’s grip would allow.
      "Boom!" yelled Jessica. "They go fucking boom, you stupid bastard! " She grabbed her Daddy’s head and spat in his face.
      When she spoke again, her voice was lowered and calm. The fire in her eyes had faded, but an inkling of insane pleasure still remained. "And now you’re going to watch Mommy go boom, Daddy. As the bleach rots her gut and her face fills with blood, she’ll go boom all right. And you’ll be watching her, quiet as a mouse and smiling if you know what’s good for you."
      That was when George started to squirm, or at least tried to squirm. Graham’s grip and the ropes were holding fast and he had no option but to watch the insane show that was to ensue. If he wanted to live he had to be silent, but he didn’t think he did want to live. Not after this.
      Jessica’s Mommy was still restrained in the chair. With her head bound back with duct tape and facing the ceiling, she had no option but to keep the funnel in her mouth. The rubber tubing that had been fed down into her gullet was uncomfortable, but then that was the least of her worries. The bleach that her daughter was holding up above her head posed a far bigger problem.
      There was a shout from across the room. It was Graham.
      "Okay, Jessica, get pouring. Remember what I told you about the slug jam for grown-ups?" Graham put forward excitedly. "Well this is fucking it!"