Free Crash by Michael Robertson Page B

was thrust backwards before landing on her back, her head hitting the concrete with a crack. Her eyes rolled, and Chris could see she'd been knocked instantly unconscious. No matter how many examples he saw of their brutality, it didn't get any easier to watch.
    Stood over her with gritted teeth, Dean spat as he growled, "Innocent? You call yourself fucking innocent? You weren't so innocent when you were enjoying a wealth well beyond what you needed to survive on. You weren't so fucking innocent when people around me were having to buy broken biscuits from the pound shop to feed their kids while you threw half of your dinner in the bin each night." Bending down so his face was close to hers, he screamed, veins standing out under his red skin, "You weren't so fucking innocent when you went on seventeen holidays a fucking year while others lived below the fucking poverty line!"
    Regaining focus, Mel looked through her ruffled brown hair and said in a groggy voice, "We worked hard for that."
    Clenching his fist like he was going to punch her again, Dean, red-faced and with his eyes bulging, said, "Did you fuck!" Pointing at her overweight husband, he continued, "Putting a suit on that fat cunt over there and kissing someone's arse isn't hard work." Then pointing at the pick-up with the girls on, he said, "Sending those spoilt twats to private school so they can get a much better life than me or mine can afford isn't hard work. Going for runs in the morning, followed by coffee-shop mother's meetings isn't hard work. You got a break! You were shat into existence at the right place and the right time. Sure, you took some opportunities, but don't be so fucking arrogant to think that it was all down to hard work. The reality for you was that you were fucking the right guy. All you had to do was lie on your back, you filthy slut!" Pulling his leg back, he then buried his boot into her stomach.
    As Mel wrapped herself around the impact, her mouth wide and fighting for breath, Chris let a gentle cough go. The toxic smoke and dust was now choking him more than ever. Michael looked at his dad, his dirty little face gripped with fear, but before Chris could signal for him to come back, he was looking out of the window again.
    Dean then said, "That's the problem with you rich cunts. You think you fucking deserve to be at the top of the food chain, and the people who aren't in your position are just lazy. You haven't got a fucking clue, love." He then kicked her again, her skinny body falling limp under his foot.
    Hawking up a spitball, he delivered it into her face.
    With her eyes watering and unable to speak, Mel looked up at her attacker, and her mouth opened and closed like a fish on a riverbank.
    Daisy and Sarah screamed, and Dean looked at them. "Shut the fuck up, you spoilt little cunts!" He then kicked their mother again. And again. And again.
    Eventually, George had to pull Dean away and stand in front of him to stop him kicking her any more. "Fucking leave it, Dean!" he shouted.
    Looking at George like he wanted to start on him too, Dean clearly thought better of it. He turned his back on the huge man and walked towards the house. It was further justification for Chris' belief that George could potentially be their savior. He seemed to be losing patience with their weasel leader and looked like he may act on that.
    Moving over to Mel, George checked for a pulse in her neck. After thirty seconds, his head dropped, and he looked at the floor. Tears glazed Chris' vision, and the girls in the truck screamed. Pulling her eyelids down, he stared at Dean's back, and although he didn't say anything, the malice he projected at him clearly displayed his feelings towards their leader.
    Michael finally returned to his father's side, and he was shaking, crying, and a wet patch had formed around his groin. In spite of this, Chris still felt the need to say, "What the fuck were you doing? When I say stay where you are, I fucking mean