Torchwood: Exodus Code

doing such a bad job as far as you’re all concerned.’
    ‘No!’ said Rhys, pushing away from the table. ‘That’s not what I meant at all.’
    ‘Oh, isn’t it? And I suppose I’m too stupid now to know what you mean? Poor Gwen, all cooped up in her own little world and making everyone so unhappy!’
    Anwen was suddenly quiet. Rhys was stunned at Gwen’s outburst.
    ‘Don’t you two look at me like I’m some kind of mental patient.’
    Anwen whimpered. Gwen stepped next to Rhys, jabbing her finger in his chest. ‘It’s all right for you off all day at work, being treated like an adult, having real conversations with people who can use the toilet and chew their own food.’
    Rhys couldn’t help it, he laughed. This was his Gwen, his family-loving, alien-killing, arse-kicking Gwen, and her behaviour these past few days was beyond absurd.
    Gwen shoved him against the refrigerator. ‘Don’t you dare laugh at me! I’m sick of being stuck home here with her. I want my old life back. I want Torchwood back.’
    At that moment, Anwen called out, ‘Mummy sad.’
    Gwen slapped her hand to her mouth and fled from the kitchen.
    Anwen threw the spoon across the floor and burst into tears. ‘Mummee! Want Mummee.’
    Rhys was in shock at how quickly this conversation, and his wife if he were being honest, had deteriorated. This was worse even than last night’s confrontation. Rhys lifted Anwen into his arms.
    ‘Want Mummee! Mummee!’ She was flailing in his arms, her tiny fists punching his shoulder, her anger rising.
    Rhys carried Anwen into the sitting room and set her down. He gathered up some of her toys and books and placed them next to her.
    Anwen picked up a book and lobbed it. ‘No book!’ Then she slammed herself onto her back and went into full tantrum mode.
    Rhys crouched next to her, reaching out and stroking her forehead, holding out her favourite bear towards her. ‘I know. I know. You want Mummy. I’ll go find her. I’ll go get Mummy.’
    ‘Mummeee!’ she cried, hugging her bear.
    ‘What is going on with the girls in this house?’ Rhys blew Anwen a kiss as he backed out into the hallway, closed the door on his sobbing child.
    He could hear Gwen’s sobs coming from the downstairs toilet. Shoving open the bathroom door, Rhys stared in, horrified by what he saw.
    Gwen was leaning in front of the basin, her head bowed, her hands gripping its edges. Drops of blood were splashed across the mirror and dripping into the basin.
    ‘Jesus, Gwen, what’ve you done?’
    Rhys stepped slowly into the bathroom, edging behind her. But before he could reach over, calm her, help her, anything, Gwen raised herself up on her toes, whipped her head back, and smashed Rhys in his nose.
    He toppled to the ground, slamming his wrist on the edge of the toilet. Gwen crunched her boot into his other hand as she fled from the bathroom.
    For a beat, Rhys couldn’t focus. He slouched against the stone floor, the pain worse than anything he’d felt. She’d broken his bloody nose. He lifted his hand to touch it, and worked out that his nose probably wasn’t broken but his wrist might well be. He yelped in pain, cradling his arm against his chest. He could hear Gwen pounding up the stairs and all he could think of was something had possessed her. Had to be. An alien. A ghost. Something. Because this woman was not his wife.
    From the sitting room, Anwen’s screams were growing fiercer by the minute.
    Ignoring Gwen’s blood splattered in the sink, Rhys yanked open the medicine cabinet with his left hand, tearing through half-empty cough syrups, boxes of plasters and handful of hair scrunchies until he found a roll of bandage. After wrapping his wrist as best as he could with one hand, he made to bolt from the toilet, only to step into a pool of Gwen’s blood, crashing his head against the basin this time.
    Dazed, he lay with his cheek on the cold porcelain for a beat, and when he could finally see straight, he pulled himself up and carefully stepped out into the hallway. Anwen’s screams had died to a whimper.
    At least she was safe.
    Rhys followed Gwen’s blood trail to the bottom of the stairs where he stopped and listened. Gwen was moving around in the room upstairs. A wardrobe door banged shut, drawers opened and slammed closed.
    What the hell was she doing?
    Rhys’s pulse was rising, his breathing shallow, and his wrist throbbing. Above his head, he heard a table being knocked over. Then the bed creaked