**Diary Entry – June 5th**
*”You can’t do anything to me. It’s not my fault,”* muttered Oliver, stepping back, his whole body shaking with fear.
At the start of June, the warm summer weather settled in. People, weary of the city’s dust and heat, fled to cottages, villages, or the seaside for a breath of fresh air. Early that Saturday, James, along with his wife, Emma, and their daughter, Sophie, set off for the weekend to a quiet village where he’d grown up and where his mother still lived.
*”Alright, everyone ready? Got everything? Let’s go before the sun really starts blazing,”* James ordered, settling into the driver’s seat. Sophie sat beside him, while Emma settled in the back, away from the air conditioning.
At a family meeting, they’d decided Sophie would spend her last summer holiday before exams at her grandmother’s. She wasn’t thrilled—most of her friends had already scattered—but staying in London felt dull.
*”Why the long face? You’ll love it. There are friends there too. Bet you won’t even want to leave,”* James encouraged.
*”Yeah, yeah, Dad, I’m fine,”* Sophie mumbled, buckling her seatbelt.
*”That’s the spirit,”* James grinned. *”Last proper holiday before year eleven—exams, university, then real life.”*
The city stirred awake, shaking off its drowsiness. Roads were still clear, so the car sped out of London easily.
The rising sun filtered through the trees lining the motorway, sharp rays stabbing at James’ eyes. *”It’s all fine… so why does my chest feel so tight?”* he wondered, watching the grey asphalt blur beneath the wheels.
Four hours later, they arrived in the village, buried in greenery and blooming gardens. Granny flung the door open, beaming—*finally*—and kissed each of them in turn.
*”Sophie’s grown so much! A proper young lady now. James, I’ve baked your favourite scones. Come in, don’t just stand there!”* she fussed, her voice warm.
*”Nothing’s changed,”* James sighed, taking in the familiar room, the scent of home. *”Even your things are just where you left them. You haven’t aged a day, Mum.”* He hugged her.
*”Oh, stop it,”* she swatted him away. *”You must be starving. Wash up, breakfast’s ready.”*
*”Keep an eye on this one, Mum. Don’t let her run wild. No late-night gallivanting,”* James said through a mouthful of buttery scone, groaning at the taste.
*”Honestly, don’t you remember what you were like at her age?”* Granny smirked, sliding him a glass of homemade lemonade.
*”Exactly! Go on, Gran, spill. I’m starting to think he’s always been this saintly,”* Sophie teased.
Granny bustled, setting out more food, then glanced out the window.
*”Tea, anyone? Your friends are already outside, saw the car pull in,”* she said slyly to Sophie.
*”Who?”* Sophie shot up and dashed to the window.
*”Eat first,”* James said firmly. *”They can wait.”*
*”I’m full. Thanks, Gran, the scones were amazing.”* Sophie shifted impatiently.
*”Go on then, scamp,”* Granny laughed. *”Don’t be late for lunch.”*
Sophie bolted.
*”Mum, be strict. She’s grown but still reckless,”* James muttered as the door clicked shut.
*”It’s quiet here. Don’t fret.”*
The next evening, James and Emma left for London. By the car, he gave Sophie his final orders.
*”Help Gran. And keep your phone on, alright?”*
*”Dad, relax, I got it,”* Sophie rolled her eyes. *”If you’re this worried, maybe I should just come back with you?”*
*”Honestly, James, you’re smothering her,”* Emma chided. *”Let’s go, or we’ll be driving in the dark.”*
As they pulled away, James watched in the rearview—Gran and Sophie waving. He glanced at Emma. *”She’s calm. But why can’t I shake this dread? Sophie’s clever. Nothing will happen. I need to let go…”* He tried to swallow the unease.
Three weeks passed. Sophie called daily, updating them on village life. Gradually, James relaxed. Then, on Saturday morning, his phone jarred him awake.
*”Work?”* Emma mumbled, eyes still shut.
James grabbed his mobile. His mother’s name flashed. He answered instantly.
*”Mum? Why so early?”* But his heart already pounded, bracing for disaster.
*”James… I’m sorry. I didn’t—I couldn’t—Sophie…”* Her voice broke.
*”What’s wrong?”* James shot up, grabbing his jeans.
*”It’s bad. Come quickly. She’s in hospital—coma…”* His mother sobbed.
*”Pack a bag. Sophie’s hurt,”* James said flatly, tossing the phone aside.
Emma paled. *”What happened?”* she whispered.
*”Mum’s crying. We’ll find out there.”*
He’d skipped refuelling last night. Now, the petrol station queue snaked back. Weekend escapees.
*”What do we do? We’re losing time,”* Emma said helplessly.
*”Wait here.”* He grabbed the spare canister, filled it, and they sped off.
*”She didn’t want to go… We pushed her…”* Emma wept.
*”Stop,”* James snapped. *”Enough. Maybe it’s not that bad.”* But his own words rang hollow.
At the village hospital, his mother collapsed into his arms in the corridor.
*”Stay with her,”* James told Emma. *”I’ll find the doctor.”*
The doctor, sipping coffee in the staff room, was grim.
*”Your daughter’s friend has broken ribs, a leg fracture. But Sophie… severe head trauma. We operated. Removed the haematoma. Still unconscious. Youth is on her side, but… Coffee?”*
*”Will she—?”* James choked.
*”We did all we could. There’s a chance, but…”*
*”Where’s the boy? The one on the bike with her?”* James interrupted.
*”Trauma ward. First floor. Ethan Carter.”*
James stormed in. A young lad, leg casted, flinched as he entered.
*”Ethan?”*
*”Yeah. You’re—?”*
*”Sophie’s father. What happened?”*
*”We were biking. Rained earlier, roads slick. Hit a rock or something. Bike skidded. We went off the road.”*
*”No helmets?”* James guessed.
Ethan looked away. *”Just a short ride.”*
*”Then?”*
*”I—I couldn’t move. Sophie was out cold.”*
*”You called an ambulance?”*
*”My phone shattered. Hers wasn’t on her.”*
*”So you just… waited? Until morning?”* James’ voice cracked.
*”No cars came. I couldn’t shout. Even if I stood, I couldn’t carry her. It’s not my fault!”* Ethan’s voice rose defensively.
James studied him. *”You’re lying. You rode in packs, didn’t you? Who else was there?”*
Ethan stiffened.
*”Tell me the truth. If you’re innocent, why hide?”*
Ethan caved. *”Oliver fancies Sophie. Told me to stay away. That night, he wasn’t around, so we went. Tom’s bike broke down. Harry didn’t come.”*
*”Then?”*
*”We stopped to talk. Saw Oliver coming on his flash bike—dad spoils him. Sophie panicked. Hates him. We tried to outrun him, but he caught up, overtook us… then the rock…”*
*”He ever try to knock you off?”*
*”No! I swear, it was the rock!”*
*”You lied already. Why trust you now?”*
*”Believe what you want,”* Ethan muttered.
*”Why did Oliver leave you there?”*
Ethan paled. *”He—he said he’d get help.”*
*”No phone?”*
*”Dunno. Maybe he freaked too. At dawn, a driver spotted us.”*
*”Where’s Oliver now?”*
*”Don’t tell him I snitched! His dad’s loaded—he’ll get off, but I won’t.”*
James got the address.James drove straight to the hospital, where he found Sophie awake, her weak smile like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.
