In The End Box Set , Stevens, GJ [motivational novels .txt] 📗

sat frozen. Andrew was already out of the car. Lifting my head I watched as he turned back, his eyes wide at the Merc behind.

His head slowly turned, his gaze catching mine as he followed down the bonnet to what I should have been the first to see. The shock should be mine. The pain in the centre of my chest was for me to bear alone. I caused the disaster; I was the one to affect our lives forever.

Detached from my body, limbs cold and numb to sensation, I pulled open the door.

Toby joined me. I brushed away his concern and his offered hand to help me out. The journey around to the bonnet took an age, but was over too soon. I watched on, disassociated from my flesh while Andrew knelt over a pair of corded trousers, the only visible sign of who I’d hit.

Shouts echoed as Andrew reached under the car, growing in volume as he pulled his head high to look past me.

I turned, not hearing the words and Toby was gone. I twisted around to see him back in his car as he let it roll backwards.

Climbing to his feet, Andrew pushed me with gentle force to the side of the road before he climbed in my car.

I turned, alcohol-laced bile rising, projecting to the tarmac. I twisted back, hopeful what I'd seen had been a vision.

It wasn't, because there lay an old man with grey hair and wrinkled skin. His eyes were closed and sunken. His bloodied face held no expression. His head folded at ninety degrees.

No one checked for a pulse. It was a sight I knew I would hold until my days came to an end.

Andrew turned me away by the shoulders, gripping my upper arms as he spoke.

“He was flagging us down, tripped and fell into the road.”

I had no idea of the truth in his words. Was he saying this for me? Was he telling me to get my story straight? I didn't know how he'd come to be in the road.

I hadn't seen a thing.

I knew what had to be done and I pulled my phone out. Tapping the three digits, I barely heard the flashing pips in my ear.

No service.

With my mouth hanging wide, I turned to the nine and watched my friends hugging, tears streaming as they looked in my direction with sorrow in their eyes.

I hated the pity pouring towards me. All I could do was shake my head as I held out the phone. Hands grasped for their own mobiles, but all soon came back shaking their heads the same.

I threw up for a second time as Andrew patted my back.

Looking around, I took in our surroundings as if for the first time. My gaze followed the dusty back road to a short wooden bridge a few paces from where the car had stopped. The view stretched out to fields either side, the horizon punctuated by a column of grey smoke rising in the direction we'd been heading, the sight only adding to the guilt constricting my throat. Had I really been paying such little attention as I drove?

Swallowing down the renewed bile, I watched the rising smoke dissipate high in the sky. The sound of hushed voices caused me to turn, to look over at the group of two stone houses just off the road. The right one had its bright-red door wide open.

Much to Andrew’s protests, I walked in its direction.

“Let me,” he said, stepping past.

I shook my head. Still he travelled at my side, his knuckles arriving first at the door, his high greeting echoing inside.

Andrew turned and gestured Tony to its neighbour as he took a tentative step over the threshold.

Inside, the air hung still, the silence clinging to my throat. It was Andrew who spoke again, repeating the greeting. Only silence replied; a thick, dampening quiet.

We both spotted the phone at the same moment, Andrew's hand reaching first. He paused to listen before replacing the receiver.

We heard Toby's knock, his call next door and his footsteps as he joined us.

“No answer.”

The TV didn't work as I clicked its buttons and I remembered the power was out, trying the light switch with my finger.

Toby coughed, the noise violent in the stifling silence.

“We can't stay here,” Andrew said, pulling a blanket from the armchair.

My eyes widened as I realised its purpose.

“I can't, I can't.”

Andrew held up his hand. “It's okay,” he replied and I watched as Toby, red-faced, followed Andrew, corralling two of the others.

I turned away and headed into the kitchen.

Andrew drove, peering around the mess of a circle in the centre of the windscreen.

I sat in the back, silently grateful for Zoe’s insistent arm around my shoulder. Time drifted in fits and starts. One moment it dragged, the world going by so slow, the next minute the scenery had changed, the sky darker, the sun covered by the smoke, thicker than before.

The car slowed, but I couldn't make out the reason; the blocked view through the windscreen only forcing the blanket of guilt down further.

Stopping the car, Andrew opened the door and was half out, peering between the gap. He turned back as he pulled himself all the way out, his expression flat and colour drained.

I didn't want to move from the seat, didn't want to leave the comfort, but I had to see why we'd stopped. I had to see what had caused the fear in Andrew's expression.

Zoe made the choice for me, pulling away and grabbing the door handle. The others were already at the side of the car, their stares forward and mouths hanging open.

Toby turned and caught my eye, his head shaking, pupils wide. A chill ran down my spine.

4

A long procession