Retribution

Kendrick watched from a distance. Parked up about a hundred yards down the road, he watched Simon take his first steps back into the real world. He watched him take a deep breath of fresh air, relishing his moment of release, turning his face towards the dark, overcast sky.

Even though he hadn't seen Simon Decourt for nearly a quarter of a century, he still recognised him. Bathed in the orange glow of a nearby streetlamp, which left Simon's face half in shadow, like the dark side of the moon, Kendrick still easily recognised him. The last time he'd laid eyes upon him, the ex-con had had a full head of black, slicked-back hair and was only showing early signs of receding. Kendrick didn't think the years had been kind to Simon; he thought that he looked withered and bedraggled.

Seeing him was bringing it all back. He'd had twenty-four years of hurt because of this man; twenty-four years to reminisce on the night that this man had torn his world apart; and twenty-four years to plot his revenge … Kendrick thought back to the night that Simon Decourt had entered his life and changed it forever …

* * *

Safely tucked underneath the bed covers, snug and warm, the boy lay in the dark, not a sound to be heard from downstairs. He had always insisted that the volume on the telly be turned down low so as not to disturb his sleep. His mum and dad were always happy to oblige, thankful for a small amount of quality time together before turning in for the night.