“You won’t do anything to me. It’s not my fault,” babbled Oliver, stumbling backward. His whole body trembled with fear.
At the start of June, warm summer weather settled in. Eager for nature and fresh air, people fled the dusty, stifling cities for cottages, countryside escapes, or seaside trips. Early that morning, James and his wife, Evelyn, along with their daughter, Emily, set off for a weekend in the small village where he’d grown up, where his mother still lived.
“Ready, then? Nothing forgotten? Let’s get going before the sun gets too fierce,” James commanded, sliding into the driver’s seat. Emily sat beside him, while Evelyn took the back seat, away from the blast of the air conditioning.
At a family meeting, they’d decided Emily would spend the last of her summer break with her grandmother. She hadn’t wanted to leave the city, but with her friends scattering in all directions, staying behind would’ve been dull.
“Why the long face? You’ll love it there. There are friends waiting for you. Mark my words—you won’t want to come back,” James encouraged.
“Yeah, yeah, Dad, it’s fine,” Emily muttered, clicking her seatbelt into place.
“That’s more like it,” James grinned. “Last proper holiday. Next year’s your exams, then university—after that, well, adulthood proper.”
The city shook off its sleepy haze as they drove through still-quiet streets, the car soon eating up the miles toward the open countryside.
The sun climbed higher, its rays stabbing through the trees lining the motorway like sharp needles. *Everything’s fine… so why does my heart feel so uneasy?* James thought, his eyes fixed on the grey ribbon of road unraveling beneath the wheels.
Four hours later, they rolled into the village, nestled in greenery and flowers. His mother flung open the door, throwing up her hands in delight—finally, they’d arrived—and hugged each of them in turn.
“Look at you, Emily! Proper young lady now. James, I’ve made your favourite scones. Come on in, don’t loiter in the hallway,” she fussed joyfully.
“Still the same,” James sighed, taking in the unchanged room, breathing in the familiar scent of home. “Nothing’s different. Even your things are right where you left them. Nan, you haven’t aged a day.” He embraced her.
“Go on with you,” she swatted him playfully. “Bet you’re starved after the drive? Wash up, and we’ll have breakfast.”
“Keep an eye on this one, eh? Don’t let her run wild. No gallivanting at all hours,” James said through a mouthful of scone.
“Listen to you! As if you were any better at her age,” his mother chuckled, nudging a glass of homemade lemonade his way.
“Exactly. Come on, Nan, tell me what he was *really* like. Seems he thinks he was born a saint,” Emily teased.
His mother bustled about, laying out treats, then glanced out the window.
“Anyone for tea? Warm you right up.” She studied their faces—then added slyly, “Friends are already out in the yard waiting. Saw the car pull in.”
“Who?” Emily asked, darting to the window.
“Eat first,” James ordered. “They can wait.”
“I’m full. Thanks, Nan—the scones were brilliant.” Emily shifted impatiently.
“Go on, then, you scamp,” his mother laughed. “Be back by lunch.”
And with that, Emily was gone.
“Be firm with her, Mum. Looks grown, but still daft as a brush,” James muttered as the door clicked shut.
“Safe as houses here. Don’t fret.”
The next evening, James and Evelyn prepared to return to the city. By the car, he gave Emily final instructions.
“Help your nan. And keep your phone on, yeah?”
“Dad, *enough*! I get it,” Emily rolled her eyes. “If you’re so worried, maybe I should just come back with you?”
“Honestly, James, you smother her,” Evelyn chided. “Let’s go—we’ll be driving all night at this rate.”
As they pulled out, James watched in the rearview mirror—his mother’s arm around Emily’s shoulders. He glanced at Evelyn. *She’s calm. Why am I winding myself up? Emily’s clever. Nothing’ll happen. Need to learn to let go…* He tried to quell the unnamed dread gnawing at him.
Three weeks passed. Emily rang daily with updates, and James slowly relaxed—until early one Saturday, his phone jolted him awake.
“Work?” Evelyn mumbled, eyes still closed.
James grabbed the phone. His mother’s name flashed. He answered instantly.
“Yeah, Mum? Why so early?” But his heart already pounded, sensing trouble.
“James… I’m sorry. I’ve let Emily down,” she wept.
“What’s happened?” James leapt up, grabbing his jeans.
“Come quickly. Emily’s in hospital—she’s in a coma—” Her voice broke.
“Get dressed. It’s Emily,” James said, tossing the phone aside.
Evelyn gasped, sinking onto the bed.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered.
“Mum’s hysterical. We’ll find out on the way.”
He’d skipped refuelling the night before—now queues stretched at every petrol station.
“What do we do? We’ll lose hours!” Evelyn wrung her hands.
“Wait here.” James fetched the spare can, filled it, then poured it into the tank. Soon, they were back on the road.
“She didn’t want to go… We *made* her… If she’d stayed—” Evelyn sobbed.
“*Stop it!*” James snapped. “Don’t make it worse. Might not be serious—Mum panics.” But he didn’t believe it.
As they neared the village, James called ahead. His mother waited at the hospital. Spotting him, she collapsed against his chest, weeping.
“She’s no help. Evelyn, stay with her. I’ll find the doctor.”
He located him in the staff room, the scent of fresh coffee thick in the air.
“Her friend’s got broken ribs, a leg fracture. But Emily… skull trauma. We’ve operated—relieved the swelling. Still unconscious. Youth’s on her side, though. Coffee?”
“She’ll… recover?” James choked out.
“We’ve done all we can. There’s hope, but—” The doctor spread his hands.
“Where’s the boy? The one on the bike?” James cut in.
“Orthopaedics, ground floor. Name’s Liam Carter—”
James was already gone.
In the ward, a lanky lad with a cast stared as James approached.
“You’re Liam?”
“Yeah. You’re—?”
“James. Emily’s dad. What happened?”
“We were biking. Roads were slick after rain. Hit something—stone, maybe. Bike skidded. We came off.”
“No helmet?” James guessed.
Liam looked away. “Neither of us. Just a quick ride.”
“And then?”
“I knew my leg was bust. Side hurt like hell. Emily… she was out cold.”
“You called an ambulance—”
“My phone shattered. Emily didn’t have hers.”
“So you just *lay there*? Till morning?” James’s fists clenched.
“No cars came. Couldn’t shout—couldn’t carry her. I’m *not* to blame!” Liam’s voice cracked.
James studied him. *Lying.*
“Rode bikes at your age. Never alone—always in a pack. Who else was there?”
Liam flinched.
“Tell me *exactly* what happened. If you’re innocent, why hide it?” James pressed.
“Fine—but swear you won’t tell. Please.”
James nodded.
“Oliver fancied Emily. Told me to keep away. He wasn’t there that night, so we went. Dan’s bike broke down. Josh bailed.”
“Old ladies moan when we speed, so we headed out of town. Stopped to talk. Then I saw Oliver coming. His dad spoils him—flash bike.”
“Emily panicked—hates him. We tried to outrun him. Useless—he caught up fast, overtook. Then—the stone.”
“Or he *rammed* you?”
“No! Swear it!”
“You lied already. Try again.”
Liam hunched. “He said he’d fetch help.”
“No phone?”
“Dunno! I was scrambled. Maybe he was too. Dawn broke before a driver spotted us.”
“Where’s Oliver now?”
Liam paled. “His dad’s loaded—untouchable. But… he lives at the big house on Elm Road.”
James left, drove straight there. Waited. Finally, Oliver emerged—leather-clad, smirking.
“Hey, mate—where’s Elm Road?” JamesOliver’s smirk faded as he recognized the fury in James’s eyes, and for the first time in his life, he truly understood the weight of the harm he’d caused.
