“You can’t do anything to me. I didn’t do anything wrong,” Nikita stammered, stepping back. His whole body trembled with fear.
At the start of June, warm summer weather settled in. Eager for fresh air and escape, people fled the stifling, dusty cities for the countryside, the coast, or their holiday cottages. Early one morning, James left with his wife and daughter for the small village where he’d grown up—where his mother still lived.
“Right then, is everyone ready? Nothing forgotten? Let’s get moving before the sun gets too fierce,” James called, sliding into the driver’s seat. Sophie sat beside him, while Emily curled up in the back, as far from the air conditioning as she could get.
They’d agreed at the last family meeting that Sophie would spend her final school holiday at her gran’s. She didn’t want to leave town, but with her friends all scattering for the summer, staying behind seemed dull.
“What’s with the long face? You’ll love it, you’ll see. There are friends there too. Bet you won’t even want to leave by the end,” James said, trying to cheer her up.
“Yeah, yeah, Dad, it’s fine,” Sophie muttered, buckling her seatbelt.
“Now that’s more like it,” James grinned. “Last big holiday before you’re off to uni—exams, applications, then proper grown-up life.”
The city stirred awake, shaking off its drowsy haze. The roads weren’t yet clogged with traffic, so they were soon speeding past the outskirts.
The sun had barely risen. Its rays pierced the trees along the motorway like sharp needles stabbing at the eyes. *Everything’s fine… so why do I feel so uneasy?* James thought, watching the grey tarmac blur beneath the wheels.
Four hours later, they rolled into the village, drowning in greenery and flowers. Gran flung the door open, gasped in delight—”Finally!”—and smothered each of them in kisses.
“Look how tall Sophie’s got! A proper young lady now. James, I’ve made your favourite pastries. Come on in, don’t just stand there in the hall!” she fussed, bustling happily.
“Nothing’s changed,” James sighed, taking in the room, breathing in the childhood-familiar scent. “Everything’s exactly where it was. Even your things are all in the same spots. And you haven’t aged a day.” He pulled her into a hug.
“Oh, stop your nonsense,” she swatted at him. “You must be starving after the drive. Wash up, breakfast’s ready.”
“Keep an eye on this one, Mum. Don’t let her run wild. No late-night gallivanting,” James said, wolfing down half a pastry in one bite, humming with pleasure.
“Honestly, have you forgotten what *you* were like at her age?” Gran chuckled, nudging a glass of homemade lemonade toward him.
“That’s right. Go on, Gran, tell me what he was *really* like. Sounds like he popped out a saint,” Sophie shot back.
Gran flitted about, piling the table with treats, then glanced out the window.
“Anyone fancy a cuppa?” She scanned their faces. “Oh, your friends are already waiting in the garden—they saw the car.” She winked at Sophie.
“Who?” Sophie spun to the window.
“You eat first,” James said sternly. “They can wait.”
“I’m *full*. Thanks, Gran, the pastries were amazing.” Sophie shifted impatiently.
“Go on then, you little whirlwind,” Gran relented. “Be back by lunch.”
Sophie bolted from the kitchen.
“Keep her in line, Mum. She looks grown, but there’s still a gale between her ears,” James said as the door slammed.
“It’s peaceful here. Don’t fret.”
The next evening, James and Emily left for the city. By the car, he doled out final instructions.
“Help Gran. And *keep your phone on*, alright?”
“Dad, *enough*, I get it,” Sophie rolled her eyes. “If you’re that worried, maybe I should just come with you?”
“Really, James, you’re smothering her,” Emily chimed in. “Let’s go, or we’ll be driving all night.”
As they pulled away, James watched Gran and Sophie shrink in the rearview mirror. He glanced at Emily—serene. *Why am I winding myself up? Sophie’s sharp. Nothing’ll happen. Time to loosen my grip…* He tried to quiet the inexplicable dread gnawing at him.
Three weeks passed. Sophie rang daily, filling them in on village life. Gradually, James relaxed—until a phone call woke him at dawn one Saturday.
“Work?” Emily mumbled, eyes still shut.
James snatched his mobile from the nightstand. His mother’s name flashed on screen. His pulse spiked as he answered.
“Yes, Mum? Why so early—?” His heart thudded, already sensing disaster.
“James… I’m sorry. I’ve failed Sophie,” Gran sobbed.
“What’s happened to Sophie?” James leaped up, grabbing his trousers.
“It’s bad, come quick. They’ve taken her to hospital… she’s in a coma—” Her voice broke.
“Get dressed. Sophie’s hurt,” James told Emily, tossing the phone aside as he yanked on his jeans.
Emily gasped, clutching at her nightgown. “What—what’s wrong with her?”
“Mum’s hysterical, I couldn’t make it out. We’ll know when we get there.”
He’d skipped refuelling after work yesterday. Now, queues snaked around every pump—weekenders fleeing the heat.
“What do we *do*? We’re wasting time!” Emily wrung her hands.
“Wait here.” He fetched the spare can from the boot, marched to the nearest pump.
Five minutes later, they sped off.
“She didn’t want to go… We *made* her stay… If she’d come home, none of this—” Emily whimpered.
“*Stop it!*” James snapped. “I feel sick enough. Might not be that bad. Mum panics.” But he didn’t believe his own words.
Near the village, he rang Gran. She waited at the hospital. Spotting him sprinting down the corridor, she crumpled against his chest, sobbing.
“She’s no use like this. Em, stay with her. I’ll find the doctor.”
The man sat in the staff room, coffee steam curling around him.
“You’re her father? Good. The lad she was with has a broken leg, couple of ribs. But her head injury… We operated, relieved the swelling. Still, she hasn’t woken. Young bodies fight hard, though. Coffee?”
“Will she… recover?” James rasped.
“We’ve done all we can. There’s a chance, but…” The doctor spread his hands.
“Where’s the boy? The one on the bike?”
“Orthopaedics, ground floor. His name’s Liam Colson.”
James barged into the ward. A lanky teen lay propped up, leg encased in plaster.
“You Liam?”
“Yeah. You’re—?”
“Sophie’s dad. What happened?”
Liam swallowed. “We… took the bike out. Roads were wet after rain. Maybe a stone, a branch—something got under the wheel. We skidded off.”
“Sophie wasn’t wearing a helmet.” It wasn’t a question.
“No. Neither was I. We weren’t going far, just a quick ride.”
“Go on.”
“I—I couldn’t move my leg. My side was killing me. Sophie… just lay there.”
“You called an ambulance—”
“My phone was smashed. Hers was at home.”
“So you just *lay there* all night?” James’s fists clenched.
“No cars came. I couldn’t even shout. If I *could’ve* walked, how’d I carry her? It’s not my fault!” Liam’s voice cracked.
James studied him. *He’s hiding something.*
“We used to ride in packs. There were others, weren’t there?”
Liam flinched, gaze darting away.
“*Tell me.* If you’re innocent, why lie?” James bore down.
“Promise you won’t tell anyone.”
“Depends. No more lies.”
“Nick fancied Sophie. Told me to back off. But he wasn’t around that night, so we went. Tom’s bike broke down. Ryan didn’t come.”
Liam gulped. “Old ladies yell when we speed through town, so we went out to the lanes. Stopped to talk. Then… Nick’s bike came up behind us. You can’t miss it—his dad buys him all the flash gear.”
Sophie panicked. Hated Nick. We tried to outrun him, but he cut us off. Then—the stone hit my wheel.”
“Maybe he rammed you? Sent you flying?”
“No! It was the stone. I swear!”James stared at the trembling boy before him, then turned away, knowing that vengeance wouldn’t heal his daughter—only time could do that now.
