my face and felt the damp track of tears. I was crying and I couldn’t stop. Great sobs racked my chest and I fell to my knees.
“Try!“I shouted to myself. “Try to remember.” A memory burst behind my eyes.
Truck lights flashing. And someone screaming.
I ran my hand through my hair, trying to make sense of the image. Where I had expected to feel my long, curled fringe, my hand ran across nothing but stubble. I was getting really scared now. All I wanted was to get home and maybe everything would be all right. But an alien presence in my soul whispered that nothing would ever be OK again.
I scraped myself off the concrete and looked around. A worn-down playground caught my eye. The familiar sight struck me with a staggering sense of relief. I was on the common, not that far from home. I used to come here all the time with my parents and Katie. As soon as I thought about my sister my lungs contracted as if someone had tightened a belt around my chest.
I started running.
After ten minutes something else struck me as weird. I’d been running at full speed for almost a mile and it didn’t feel as if my heart would burst. Normally, I could barely manage to run for a few minutes before I had to stop. Now it felt as if I could keep going forever. Maybe it was the fear driving me on.
Five minutes later, I reached my road and stopped. My house was up ahead. Something awful waited for me behind that blue door. Aubrey had told me it might not be safe for me to come home. That was something I could glean from the mess that was my memory. Not safe. But I couldn’t remember why.
I took a deep breath and was hit by the stink from my clothes again. Whatever had happened, Mum wouldn’t be too happy with my state. I pulled off the jumper and threw it into a nearby bin. The white T-shirt underneath was mostly clean.
I walked towards the door. The gravel crunched under my feet. I patted my pockets for my key, but they were empty.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I checked my watch. It was only 6.30 and Mum and Dad were probably still in bed.
I knocked again.
Eventually I heard the sound of shuffling from behind the door.
As soon as I saw Dad’s face my heart stopped and I had that flash again. The lights of a truck and the sound of screaming. Dad’s eyes were bloodshot and his skin was the colour of day-old porridge.
“Scott,” he said. His voice ached with sadness.
A wail sounded from the top of the stairs and a woman raced down the steps and charged towards me. It took me a few seconds to realise it was my mother. Her usually perfect hair was a wild mess and she was wearing a tracksuit that looked as if she’d been wearing it for days. There were four red marks down the side of her right cheek. Nail marks.
She paused for a moment and then launched herself at me. She flailed her arms and instinctively I blocked her punches before giving in and letting her rain the blows on my chest and shoulders. They kept coming.
Dad pulled her away, wrapping her in his arms. “Hush. Hush now,” he said rocking her. She melted to the floor, still screaming. Beneath her animal howls I made out one word. “Katie.”
Dad looked at me, his eyes unfocused. “Scott, I think you should go.”
“But Dad,” I begged, “I don’t know what’s happening. Please.” I broke down and started sobbing too. All I knew was that my heart was breaking and I didn’t know why.
“Someone explain. Anyone. Dad. Mum. Katie!”
“Don’t you dare!” my Mum screamed. She dragged herself to standing. “Don’t you dare say her name. You murderer!”
She shoved me and caught one of my aching ribs. It felt like a bomb going off in my chest. Dad pulled her away and pushed her gently back down the hallway.
Murderer? What did she mean? Then a memory so fresh, so raw, erupted in my head.
I’m on my moped. It’s raining. Katie is behind me on the pillion. She’s annoying me by tickling me. I keep slapping her hand away. And she keeps poking me in the
“Try!“I shouted to myself. “Try to remember.” A memory burst behind my eyes.
Truck lights flashing. And someone screaming.
I ran my hand through my hair, trying to make sense of the image. Where I had expected to feel my long, curled fringe, my hand ran across nothing but stubble. I was getting really scared now. All I wanted was to get home and maybe everything would be all right. But an alien presence in my soul whispered that nothing would ever be OK again.
I scraped myself off the concrete and looked around. A worn-down playground caught my eye. The familiar sight struck me with a staggering sense of relief. I was on the common, not that far from home. I used to come here all the time with my parents and Katie. As soon as I thought about my sister my lungs contracted as if someone had tightened a belt around my chest.
I started running.
After ten minutes something else struck me as weird. I’d been running at full speed for almost a mile and it didn’t feel as if my heart would burst. Normally, I could barely manage to run for a few minutes before I had to stop. Now it felt as if I could keep going forever. Maybe it was the fear driving me on.
Five minutes later, I reached my road and stopped. My house was up ahead. Something awful waited for me behind that blue door. Aubrey had told me it might not be safe for me to come home. That was something I could glean from the mess that was my memory. Not safe. But I couldn’t remember why.
I took a deep breath and was hit by the stink from my clothes again. Whatever had happened, Mum wouldn’t be too happy with my state. I pulled off the jumper and threw it into a nearby bin. The white T-shirt underneath was mostly clean.
I walked towards the door. The gravel crunched under my feet. I patted my pockets for my key, but they were empty.
I knocked.
Nothing.
I checked my watch. It was only 6.30 and Mum and Dad were probably still in bed.
I knocked again.
Eventually I heard the sound of shuffling from behind the door.
As soon as I saw Dad’s face my heart stopped and I had that flash again. The lights of a truck and the sound of screaming. Dad’s eyes were bloodshot and his skin was the colour of day-old porridge.
“Scott,” he said. His voice ached with sadness.
A wail sounded from the top of the stairs and a woman raced down the steps and charged towards me. It took me a few seconds to realise it was my mother. Her usually perfect hair was a wild mess and she was wearing a tracksuit that looked as if she’d been wearing it for days. There were four red marks down the side of her right cheek. Nail marks.
She paused for a moment and then launched herself at me. She flailed her arms and instinctively I blocked her punches before giving in and letting her rain the blows on my chest and shoulders. They kept coming.
Dad pulled her away, wrapping her in his arms. “Hush. Hush now,” he said rocking her. She melted to the floor, still screaming. Beneath her animal howls I made out one word. “Katie.”
Dad looked at me, his eyes unfocused. “Scott, I think you should go.”
“But Dad,” I begged, “I don’t know what’s happening. Please.” I broke down and started sobbing too. All I knew was that my heart was breaking and I didn’t know why.
“Someone explain. Anyone. Dad. Mum. Katie!”
“Don’t you dare!” my Mum screamed. She dragged herself to standing. “Don’t you dare say her name. You murderer!”
She shoved me and caught one of my aching ribs. It felt like a bomb going off in my chest. Dad pulled her away and pushed her gently back down the hallway.
Murderer? What did she mean? Then a memory so fresh, so raw, erupted in my head.
I’m on my moped. It’s raining. Katie is behind me on the pillion. She’s annoying me by tickling me. I keep slapping her hand away. And she keeps poking me in the
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