Free Wild by Naomi Clark

always banging on about getting clean and changing their lives, and they never do. You never will. You’ll just come crawling back every time begging for more. You’re pathetic.”
    “Fuck you!” she shouted, lashing out at him. It was stupid, it was so stupid, but she couldn’t stop herself. She saw red and she hit him. Vic stumbled back, more in surprise than anything else, an almost comic look of shock on his face. “You and Harris can go to hell!”
    He knocked her fist aside when she struck out again, sending her reeling a little, off balance. “Don’t be such a stupid bitch,” he told her. “Fuck, I don’t know why Harris keeps you around anyway.”
    The front door opened then, and Harris walked in, a bag of clinking cans in hand. He dropped them on the floor when he saw Lizzie and Vic, a frown on his face. “What the fuck’s this?” he asked.
    Lizzie rounded on him, stalking across the room to jab him in the chest. “I’m not some cheap whore you can pimp to your mates for drugs!” she shouted, trying to hold back the tears stinging her eyes. Crying would be even stupider than hitting Vic. The minute she cried, she lost.
    “Don’t fucking yell at me!” He reached for her, slapping her hands down when she tried to fend him off. “Fucking hell, Lizzie, you’re a complete headcase at the moment. I don’t know why I bother with you anymore. You’re no fucking fun at all.”
    “Dump me then,” she said, wrenching free from his grip. “Find some other girl you and Vic can pass around.”
    “Maybe I should!” he shouted. “All you do is whine and complain, and you’re bloody shit in bed too!”
    She laughed. “A poor workman blames his tools, right? Maybe if you weren’t so fucked up all the time you’d be able to have sex!”
    Violence snapped in his eyes. Lizzie tensed, recognising a look she’d seen too many times. Heart hammering, she moved for the door just as Harris’ hand came crashing towards her face.
    The blow clipped her, rocking her but not really hurting. She steadied herself against the wall, anger swarming up in her. “Don’t you dare hit me,” she snarled.
    Harris balled his hands into fists, his triceps flexing. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
    She cringed for a second, tempted to give in and let him win. Then a red haze of hatred fell around her, a hybrid mix of grief and fury. Was she going to spend her whole life letting Harris shove her around? Fuck that. “Don’t touch me,” she growled, her voice thick and low, not her own. Something dark and hungry stirred inside her, like a second being coiled around her heart. “Don’t you dare ever touch me again.”
    “Hey, come on.” Vic was suddenly between them, alarm on his face. “We don’t want the neighbours hearing this, do we? Don’t want the coppers round asking questions.”
    Harris’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, come on, Lizzie. We don’t want any trouble, do we?”
    She did. She wanted lots of trouble. The desire for it was boiling in her blood. She wanted to rip them both to pieces and dance on the remains. A dark being raged inside her, desperate to break out and attack.
    “Look,” Harris said, cajoling now, all the anger gone – or at least hidden. “This doesn’t have to be a big deal, yeah? We all want the same thing here, don’t we? And if you play nice, Lizzie, we all get what we want, don’t we?”
    The dark being took over and something inside her snapped free. Lizzie lashed at Harris, dragging her nails down his face, raking through his stubbled cheek to draw blood. She heard herself yelling but she didn’t know what she was saying. Harris raised his hands to fend her off and they tangled together, clawing and scraping at each other in a blind fury.
    The rich coppery tang of blood, his and hers, flooded her nostrils, winding her up and driving that other being into a frenzy. “I hate you! I hate you!” she shrieked at him, slamming her fists into his chest.
    Suddenly Vic was