love.
The six-hour train journey was a blur. Crash rested his head against the window and slept in reluctant bursts, trying to stay awake as much as he could, because the dreams he swam through now were the most painful. These were the ones that threatened to drown him if he fell in too deep.
The quick bright flashes he had of Summer gasping in pain, of Ren hissing that Summer liked it that way.
Of Summer’s tearstained face pleading Stop! Let him out of here. He’s just a baby!
Of Ren laughing.
The pain of what happened hadn’t lessened over the years. If anything it had deepened, taken root.
Once Crash exited the train at Paddington, he stood outside the overcrowded London station to text Kay, telling her he was all right, but he needed to go see a friend in Essex whom he hadn’t seen for a long time, and he hoped to be back sometime tomorrow.
Just like Romeo had, Kay knew something was wrong, but she seemed to understand he needed to work out whatever it was for himself and told him she wished she could give him a hug and to have a safe journey.
Crash didn’t delay any longer. He went back inside the station, bought a ticket to Essex, and got on the train.
T HE RUN - DOWN station led out onto the high street. It looked the same, and yet different, everything a hundred years old and faded in the sun.
Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Crash set off toward the playing fields. Halfway down the high street, he passed the narrow alleyway that led to Ren’s club and ignored the prickling sensation he felt against his skin. He would go there later, if he had to. He just hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, and if he found Summer at his old house, it wouldn’t be.
After circling the block of run-down maisonettes that was imprinted on his memory and trying to rid himself of some anxiety, he forced his feet to stop walking, closed his eyes, and balling his hand into a fist, he thumped the wood of the front door and waited.
And waited.
He knocked again. Nothing. Taking care not to tread on the weedy flowerbeds, Crash tried to peer in at the front window, but the curtains were drawn. It was the same around the back.
Unsure what to do, he knocked one more time on the front door. He was just about to walk away when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an elderly lady step out of the house next door.
“They’re long gone, love,” she said when he looked at her.
His heart sank. The disappointment must have shown on his face as the woman smiled pityingly.
“When?” he asked.
“Terrible business. Mother took an overdose about a month ago, and she’s still in hospital. The little girl, Sky, got taken into care.”
The woman carried on talking, but Crash looked away. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he was shocked and having difficulty accepting this new information. The fact that the old woman hadn’t mentioned Summer must mean he wasn’t living here anymore, but Crash would have bet money on Summer doing everything he could to stop Sky being put into care, especially if he was living independently somewhere.
But perhaps Summer wasn’t in a position to offer Sky a home.
Thoughts like this did nothing to ease Crash’s worry. But worrying helped no one. Doing something was the only thing that ever helped.
“What about Summer?” he asked.
“Oh, the boy? Think the mother chucked him out. It was after that she really went downhill. He was such a nice kid too. Used to bring me papers and check on me if the weather was bad and I couldn’t get out.”
Crash nodded as she wittered on. Hearing about Summer made him feel weightless and untethered, and he didn’t want her to stop talking.
“Light went out of him, though, few years ago now. I don’t know what happened, but he just didn’t seem happy anymore. When he left, I hoped he’d get it back. I reckon being around that mother was what did it—that, and the bad crowd he fell in with.”
Her expression darkened, and Crash felt it too,
The six-hour train journey was a blur. Crash rested his head against the window and slept in reluctant bursts, trying to stay awake as much as he could, because the dreams he swam through now were the most painful. These were the ones that threatened to drown him if he fell in too deep.
The quick bright flashes he had of Summer gasping in pain, of Ren hissing that Summer liked it that way.
Of Summer’s tearstained face pleading Stop! Let him out of here. He’s just a baby!
Of Ren laughing.
The pain of what happened hadn’t lessened over the years. If anything it had deepened, taken root.
Once Crash exited the train at Paddington, he stood outside the overcrowded London station to text Kay, telling her he was all right, but he needed to go see a friend in Essex whom he hadn’t seen for a long time, and he hoped to be back sometime tomorrow.
Just like Romeo had, Kay knew something was wrong, but she seemed to understand he needed to work out whatever it was for himself and told him she wished she could give him a hug and to have a safe journey.
Crash didn’t delay any longer. He went back inside the station, bought a ticket to Essex, and got on the train.
T HE RUN - DOWN station led out onto the high street. It looked the same, and yet different, everything a hundred years old and faded in the sun.
Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Crash set off toward the playing fields. Halfway down the high street, he passed the narrow alleyway that led to Ren’s club and ignored the prickling sensation he felt against his skin. He would go there later, if he had to. He just hoped it wouldn’t be necessary, and if he found Summer at his old house, it wouldn’t be.
After circling the block of run-down maisonettes that was imprinted on his memory and trying to rid himself of some anxiety, he forced his feet to stop walking, closed his eyes, and balling his hand into a fist, he thumped the wood of the front door and waited.
And waited.
He knocked again. Nothing. Taking care not to tread on the weedy flowerbeds, Crash tried to peer in at the front window, but the curtains were drawn. It was the same around the back.
Unsure what to do, he knocked one more time on the front door. He was just about to walk away when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an elderly lady step out of the house next door.
“They’re long gone, love,” she said when he looked at her.
His heart sank. The disappointment must have shown on his face as the woman smiled pityingly.
“When?” he asked.
“Terrible business. Mother took an overdose about a month ago, and she’s still in hospital. The little girl, Sky, got taken into care.”
The woman carried on talking, but Crash looked away. He didn’t mean to be rude, but he was shocked and having difficulty accepting this new information. The fact that the old woman hadn’t mentioned Summer must mean he wasn’t living here anymore, but Crash would have bet money on Summer doing everything he could to stop Sky being put into care, especially if he was living independently somewhere.
But perhaps Summer wasn’t in a position to offer Sky a home.
Thoughts like this did nothing to ease Crash’s worry. But worrying helped no one. Doing something was the only thing that ever helped.
“What about Summer?” he asked.
“Oh, the boy? Think the mother chucked him out. It was after that she really went downhill. He was such a nice kid too. Used to bring me papers and check on me if the weather was bad and I couldn’t get out.”
Crash nodded as she wittered on. Hearing about Summer made him feel weightless and untethered, and he didn’t want her to stop talking.
“Light went out of him, though, few years ago now. I don’t know what happened, but he just didn’t seem happy anymore. When he left, I hoped he’d get it back. I reckon being around that mother was what did it—that, and the bad crowd he fell in with.”
Her expression darkened, and Crash felt it too,
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