Free Behind Dead Eyes by Howard Linskey Page A

off her feet and sending her crashing to the ground. Helen hit the cement hard and narrowly avoided striking her head against the nearest car. Her handbag slipped from her arm and bounced onto the floor, upending itself and spilling its contents in the process.
    Before she could react the thug who clattered into Helen was already standing over her. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing!’ he roared.
    ‘Watch where you’re going, you slag!’ the second man bawled and she rolled over to face them, turning to look up into two twisted, hate-filled faces. She could feel the rawness on one knee where it had scraped against the cement as she fell and the palms of her hands were sore from the impact as she tried to protect herself.
    ‘Get away from me,’ Helen demanded, her voice wavering as she tried to climb to her feet.
    ‘Who do you think you are, bitch?’ And the man who knocked her to the ground leant in close as she got to her feet. She could smell his breath, rank with the stale smell of beer and cigarettes. The second man closed in on her and Helen began to fear they would attack or even try to rape her here in the car park. She was looking around for anyone who might be able to help her but there was no one. She could run but wouldn’t be able to get far with two young men in trainers chasing her. She’d never be able to reach her car.
    When the second man spoke, she instantly understood why they were here. ‘That’ll teach you to stick your nose in.’ This wasn’t some random assault on the first young woman they found. These thugs had actually targeted her because of the stories she had been writing. They’d been waiting for her to come out of the newsroom and now she really was frightened.
    ‘Oi!’ The male voice was deep and angry. ‘Get away from her!’ It was Graham and she had never been happier to hear him. He was standing on the office steps some distance away. Her editor started to march towards them and she prayed they would think they’d done enough and melt away. Graham hadn’t hesitated to come to her aid but could he really fight them both off? They looked like the kind of young men who were used to violence.
    ‘You’ve been warned,’ the second man told her, ‘it won’t happen twice.’ Then he shoved Helen violently. She shot backwards and fell hard against the bonnet of the nearest car, pain shooting through her spine.
    Both men took off at a casual jog as Graham ran towards her. She was vaguely aware of them laughing, swearing and turning back to mock the older man, giving Graham the finger. Sensibly he did not pursue them, deciding instead to halt by her side. They ran from the car park then, whooping excitedly at a job well done before they vanished into the night.
    ‘I’m alright,’ she told her editor, ‘I’m alright.’
    Graham took one look at her, his face all concern. ‘No Helen, you’re not.’ Then he bent low and deftly scooped the spilled contents back into her handbag, handed it to her and said, ‘You’re not alright. Come on.’
    Graham took her back into the newsroom, sat her at her desk and disappeared for a moment to the tiny kitchen area, which was little more than a fridge for sandwiches and a vending machine next to a row of cupboards. She heard a cupboard door open then close and this was followed by the sound of a tap running. Graham returned, bent to examine her knee then gently pressed a wet cloth against it. ‘Does it hurt?’ he asked.
    ‘A little,’ she said though in truth it hurt like hell. As well as the sting of the cloth against broken skin, she could feel her whole knee beginning to stiffen as it swelled.
    ‘Who the hell were they?’ Graham was gently attempting to clean her knee without hurting her and although it felt strange to be sitting alone in the darkened newsroom with her editor while he sat on the floor and tended to her like this, his concern was touching.
    ‘A couple of morons,’ she said dismissively. Although it