Page 102 of Freshman

Alfie caught her hand in his and squeezed gently.

Tia snapped her jaw shut immediately.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

She shook her head. “You don’t have to thank me.”

“Yeah, I do. I’ve been horrible.”

“It’s okay. Everything’s confusing. Not just the crash, but I bet you’re wondering why he pulled you from the car.”

Alfie wondered, but he didn’t like to think about it. Nate had left him to die away from the car, sprawled out like roadkill. Nate, who had escaped and vanished.

Tia shuddered. “Freaks me out thinking about it. He’s been all over the news. You never said there were people like that at Larkwood.”

“You knew there were murderers and rapists.”

“But not vindictive psychopaths who—”

Alfie raised his hand, and she pressed her lips together.

She exhaled through her nose, seemingly getting herself under control. “Sorry. Must be creepy knowing you could’ve ended up like them.”

The taxi screeched to a stop on the kerb, and Tia paid the fair.

Alfie swung his legs from the car carefully, then placed his crutches on the ground before heaving himself up.

Tia followed, and he could feel her eyes glued to him the whole way to the door.

“I’ll transfer you the money for the taxi.”

“What are you talking about? I’m coming in.”

He turned to her and shook his head. “I really just want to be on my own.”

Tia scrunched her face in sympathy. “You sure?”

He forced his lips into what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I’m sure. Now go before he drives off.”

“I’m going to call you later, and you’d better pick up.”

“I will,” he promised, then hobbled inside.

His duvet was still on the sofa, and the dirty plates were stacked high in the sink. It wasn’t the welcome home of movies with banners and balloons. It was the welcome from a lonely house and a lonely existence.

Alfie couldn’t recall breaking down in the hospital, and Tia didn’t say he had, but when he lowered himself to the sofa and stared out the window at the sign for Larkwood, he sobbed into his palms.

Nate had left him.

The noises escaping him didn’t sound human but cruel and tortured. He was nothing but an animal snared in his own trap. He reached for the duvet, shoved it over his mouth and screamed until the painkillers faded and he passed out from the burn in his ribs.

Alfie didn’t believe it was possible to feel any worse, but there was a knock on the door the next day and his heart sped up. The only person who visited was Tia, and she walked straight in, twirling her key. That meant it was a delivery. Pizza, clothing, groceries, he didn’t care as long as it was something from Nate. He hopped on his crutches, balanced on one, then opened the door wide.

A police officer stood on the other side, stern-faced, with a notepad in his hand. “Alfie Bridges?”

He nodded. “That’s me.”

“I’m Police Constable Martin Price from Marshall Police Station. Here to ask you a few questions.”

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