Ellen had drifted off again, but the sleep was not deep, and she was aware of movement at the door. She opened her eyes and yawned more than spoke.
‘Did you bring me more coffee?’
‘No, but then I don’t intend to keep you awake too long.’ Mr Paul stepped into view, a gun in his right hand, his left arm still in a sling. ‘Did I say awake? I meant alive.’
Ellen felt as though the room was shaking as Mr Paul came closer and sat at the end of the bed, his dark eyes fixed and intense. He pointed the barrel of the gun to his shoulder.
‘You hurt me, Ellen. I told you not to get into a competition with me. Not one to do with pain.’ Leaning in, he almost smiled as he brought his face close. Then quickly, once, twice, he hit out with the butt of the gun into her wound. The room seemed to melt aro
