Page 109 of Versions Of Us

The screeching of tyres, the thud of flesh and bone on metal, and the blood curdling scream that follows.

What happens after that is a blur.

I’m vaguely aware of the crowd of people that gather, of flashing lights of red and blue. Of someone lifting me into an ambulance, my face sticky with blood, probably not all of it mine.

I lean forward to empty the contents of my stomach. Mackenzie cries hysterically, screaming my name, seemingly paying more attention to me than her own boyfriend, whose limp body had been thrown onto a stretcher and carted to the nearest hospital.

A female police officer tries to restrain her, but she pushes her way toward me. Another officer drags me forward from the ambulance, ripping my aching arms behind my back where he bounds a pair of handcuffs tightly around my wrists.

“Alex Henley.” The officer states my name. I don’t even remember giving it to him.

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice trembling.

“You’re under arrest for assault occasioning grievous bodily harm. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used as evidence against you in a court of law.”

This can’t be happening.

My stomach turns, threatening to eject whatever else might be left in it. I’ve had run ins with the law before but never to this extent.

I was given a warning once for getting caught graffitiing a public toilet block when I was seventeen. When I first got my licence, I got done for running a red light. But this is completely foreign territory for me.

Grievous bodily harm.

“No!” Mackenzie cries from somewhere beside me.

I’m petrified, not only for myself but for her too. I have no idea what will happen next, but I know that if this is the kind of company this girl keeps, she’s still in danger too.

I’m aware of what the police officer said about remaining silent, but I need to help Mackenzie. So, as I’m pulled toward the police car waiting on the curb, I say the only thing I can think of that might help her.

“You have a sister. She works at the helpline in Cliff Haven,” I blurt, another wave of nausea washing over me. “Her name is Kristen.”

She looks at me, stunned, as if she isn’t sure whether she’s heard me correctly.

“Cliff Haven helpline,” I repeat urgently, before my head is shoved downwards, and I’m thrust inside the car.

The door slams shut, the car in motion seconds later. Mackenzie doesn’t move from her place on the curb, her terrified face growing smaller in the window as I leave her behind.

We arrive at the Coledale police station where I’m thrown into a holding cell. It’s cold and it stinks of piss but at least I don’t have to share it with anyone. I’m in a state of utter disbelief at the events that have occurred this afternoon, my aching body still vibrating with shock. From the cell, I can hear two cops talking at a desk down the hall.

“Here. File this report,” a woman’s voice says. “Assault occasioning grievous bodily harm. Hopefully it doesn’t turn into a murder charge. The victim’s still alive for now.”

“What a mess,” I hear someone else reply.

“Tell me about it. That’s not even the worst of it. The guy he put in the hospital? It’s Ethan Davis.”

“Shit. He’s going away for a long time.”

“No doubt about it.”

I shove my head into my hands, the gauze the paramedics placed over a gash on my forehead slicking my fingertips with blood.

This can’t be happening.

I was ready to start my life.

I was really ready. To take the promotion at the tavern. To commit to Kristen.

Oh god, Kristen.

---