Page 112 of Prove You Wrong

Her face falls and I realise she’s in that delicate, can-dish-it-out-but-not-receive-it state.

‘I’m sorry. Here’s your favourite jarmies.’ I hold out the soft, brushed-cotton pyjamas, patterned with snoozing sloths. ‘Can I get you anything? Help you get changed?’

‘I just want to come home.’ She shakes her head sadly. ‘Mum’s gone to ask.’

Ignoring the sign saying I shouldn’t, I climb on to my sister’s bed next to her and give her a hug. It’s as much for me as it is for her.

‘We’ll get you home as soon as we can. Promise.’ I kiss the top of her head. ‘I contacted your teachers. They’re going to email the work you need to catch up on.’

‘Thanks. I think,’ Chloe grumbles.

‘All being well, you can go home tomorrow afternoon,’ Mum announces as she enters. ‘I’ve arranged some time off work, so you’ll have me for company.’

‘I can take some time, too, if you need,’ I offer, knowing we can’t really afford for her to be off work.

‘We’ll be okay, won’t we Chlo’? Although — ’ Hand on her hip, Mum tilts her head to the side as she appraises me. ‘You do look a little peaky. Maybe you could do with a break.’

‘Thanks a lot. I’ve been having abreakfor the last two days,’ I snap.

I feel bad immediately. It’s not Mum’s fault I’ve had trouble sleeping, what with my thoughts jumbling in a confused mess about Chloe’s accident and the awful things I said to … him. I can’t even bring myself to think his name. It hurts too much.

My phone buzzes, the caller ID flashing abruptly across the screen.

Nate.

I rub at the ache behind my ribs, the pain intensifying as I read his name.

As I click to silence the call, I catch Chloe giving me a curious look.

‘No phones on the ward.’ Swallowing a lump in my throat, I shrug.

I have to remain focused on Chloe.

‘You could take it in the corridor.’ She frowns as if confused at my stupidity.

‘I’m fine here.’ I force a smile which may be bordering on manic, judging by the narrow of Chloe’s gaze. Mum doesn’t seem to notice. She’s buzzing around, folding blankets and tidying magazines.

‘Mum, please can you get me a cuppa?’ Chloe asks, not breaking her eye contact with me. ‘And some biscuits?’

‘Of course,’ she gushes, probably relieved to be given a job. ‘Anything for you, Ella, love?’

‘No, thanks.’ I haven’t been able to touch anything since that bacon butty yesterday morning.

As soon as Mum’s left the room, Chloe rounds on me –– kind of hard when you’re squashed together on a single bed, but she manages all the same.

A frown contorts her face, a fist screwed at her hip. ‘Why are you being so weird?’

‘I’m not, I — ’

Chloe fixes me with a glare, one I recognise from my own face when I’m not taking any shit.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. ‘I’m sorry for all of this. I feel like it’s my fault.’

‘Why?’ She looks at me like I’ve grown an extra head. ‘You weren’t driving the other car.’

‘No, but if I’d have been paying more attention, you wouldn’t have … ’ I trail off, my words failing me. ‘If I hadn’t been … It won’t happen again.’

‘What are you talking about?’ She scowls with derision. ‘No one ever knows what’s going to happen.’

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