Eggs sizzled in a frying pan while fresh ground coffee bubbled in the pot, filling the house with a luxurious, velvet aroma. Cassandra Robbins slid the now cooked eggs, a perfect over easy, onto a serving platter stacked high with bacon, sausages and hash browns.

”Kids, breakfast.”

Footfall thundered down the stairs, her three little girls arriving within seconds. They arranged themselves around the table, each one in the usual place, sipping from their glasses of orange juice as they waited for Dad.

“Mac?”

Dishevelled, still half dressed in pyjamas and novelty Elmo slippers, Mac Robbins stumbled into the kitchen. The meal passed him by in a blur, only snapping to when Cassy kissed him goodbye with a playful threat about doing the washing.

Desolate eyes stared in silence at the deep furrows running across his palms. Fuelled by the lies of a lifetime’s repression, he cracked. Removing the bolt cutters from the storage closet with a slow, deliberate purpose, Mac placed his testicles between their razor sharp jaws, clenched his teeth and cut.

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