31 OK. OK. OK.
31
OK. OK. OK.
I step out of the vault, my legs collapsing underneath me.
‘What happened?’ Jack grabs me, holding me up as I nearly topple to the floor.
The strobe lighting blurs my vision. The music shatters into my skull.
How is it true?
‘It was…’ But the words don’t come out. ‘Jack,’ is all I can say. ‘Jack, thank you.’
‘What for?’ he says, eyes wide. I lean my back against the wall, steadying myself. ‘Eli, what happened?’
‘My dad… My dad did this. All of this,’ I mumble, but it hurts to speak.
I put my back to the wall and slide down it until my legs are splayed in front of me. I lean my head forwards between them.
We need to leave. Run. Hide.
I feel his hand on my back. ‘Eli, what did he do?’
I stay still, regulating my breath. When I look up, I see the clock on the wall.
00:21… 00:20… 00:19…
‘I’m so sorry, Jack.’
‘Why? What happened Eli?’
The automated voice booms through the air. ‘ It is time to choose your stories .’
Jack helps me stand and I turn to the keypad, my fingers trembling so much I can’t press the buttons.
‘Here,’ he says, putting his hand on top of mine, steadying it.
Gentle. He’s so gentle. How could my dad do that to him?
The keypad beeps. I tap the bank card.
I feel Jack’s hand on my shoulder. ‘Listen,’ he says. ‘It’s not your fault.’
I can’t look at him.
My family. My family are evil.
What did my dad do to cause all this?
Jack called him a hypocrite. And something else. He was going to call him something else.
‘I’ll see you in five minutes,’ Jack says. He opens the door, then turns back to me. ‘You’ll be here, right?’
‘Of course,’ I say.
And then he steps into the vault.
As the door slams shut, I scan the room for Nisha. She’s not at the bar. Where is she? I’m about to sink back down against the wall when I see something. A word above a door.
HOSPITAL
That’s me. That’s my story.
A deep, guttural, intense heat fuels me. I begin to walk towards it, passing the remaining stragglers choosing their vaults.
‘ Hey! ’ I shout. Someone – a woman – is entering my story. My vault . To watch me, me getting held down and injected in that fucking seclusion room. ‘You can’t watch that!’ I scream. I’m running now. I can’t stop myself. ‘It’s mine! It ’ s my story! ’
When I reach her, she turns to me and laughs. ‘Whoa, calm down. Wait your turn.’
‘No,’ I say, placing my hand on the door to keep it shut. ‘You don’t understand. I ’ m in it – this is mine .’
‘This is all of ours, baby.’ She smiles and winks. ‘I’ve heard it’s a great one.’
Then she yanks the handle, steps through the gap and slams the door in my face.
I begin to bang it, thumping my hand into the wood. ‘Get out!’ I scream. ‘Get out. It ’ s not yours! ’
But then I stop as I see the word above the door next to mine. My fist remains suspended mid-air. A single word makes my body go still.
ROSE
Oh my God.
The receipt from the box in the attic. My parents paid for Jack to have an extra day removed. One historical episode .
I throw myself at the keypad, scrambling with the buttons, moving the up arrow to the highest it will go.
‘ The stories will now begin .’
I dig my hand into my pocket for the bank card.
Come on .
I tap it.
Come on, come on .
Payment approved.
It clicks open. I step into the vault, beneath the bulb, and take the headset as the door slams shut behind me. I pull it over my head.
But I know. I know before I see the words you are now Jack that it’s his.
‘ What do you think? ’ I say to her, crouching behind the bush in front of the gravel driveway .
She turns her head, peering through the branches to the house, then looks back at me, eyes filled with awe . ‘ It ’ s huge! ’
‘ It ’ s like a medieval manor .’
‘ Who do you think lives here? ’
‘ I dunno . Maybe like a lord and lady .’
‘ Or the queen ,’ she says .
I laugh .
‘ Hey! Look at that! ’ She points longingly to a yellow bike leaning up against the wall by the porch .
‘ I have an idea ,’ I say . ‘ You want to go for a ride on it? ’
She wrinkles her nose . ‘ But I can ’ t ride .’
‘ I can . We could do a backie .’
Her eyes glint . ‘ But … what if we get caught? ’
‘ We won ’ t . They probably won ’ t even know it ’ s gone .’
‘ Maybe .’ She suddenly looks nervous . ‘ Is it fun? ’
‘ Riding a bike? ’ I lean towards her . ‘ The most fun .’
She looks up at the sky . It ’ s going to be dark soon . ‘ Don ’ t we need to get the train? ’
I shrug . ‘ Just five minutes .’
‘ OK .’
I take her hand and peer round the bush, checking each window of the house . It ’ s quiet . ‘ Ready? ’
She squeezes my hand tight as we walk quickly up the drive, the gravel crunching under our feet .
‘ Shh ,’ she whispers, but I can hear the excitement in her voice .
We tiptoe past the garage . As we get to the porch I can see four pairs of wellies lined up outside it . Even the wellies look rich .
‘ OK ,’ I whisper, letting go of her hand to take the handles of the bike . I turn it and begin to push it down the driveway, checking the house over my shoulder as I go .
I can hear her giggling . ‘ Quickly! ’ she says .
When we reach the end, I stop and sling my leg over it .
‘ Hop on the seat ,’ I say . ‘ Then hold on to my shoulders .’
I grip the bike as she pulls herself up on to it . I look down the road – a country lane lined with bushes and shrubbery .
‘ Jack, look .’ I turn back to see a woman in the front window – blonde ponytail, white blouse – staring out of the shutters directly at us .
My eyes meet hers . ‘ Oh, shit .’
‘ Go! ’ Rose yells . ‘ Go, go, go! ’
I kick the pedal and take a left out of the driveway . I feel Rose ’ s fingers dig into my shoulders as she lets out a scream, piercing through the air, riddled with the shock of moving and the thrill of being caught .
I push with my feet as hard as I can, gaining my balance . It ’ s been a while since I ’ ve ridden a bike . I find my rhythm and begin speeding up, twisting along the road, bushes and trees flying past on either side . The force of the air takes my breath away .
‘ You OK? ’ I shout over my shoulder .
‘ Yahoo! ’ she replies .
I push on round corners, along straight stretches, over dips, swerving potholes, which makes Rose shriek with delight . Up a hill, sweating now – the bike feels heavy . When we get to the top, I let my feet off the pedals and we start to career down the other side .
‘ Slow down, Jack! ’ Rose screams .
But everything feels so free . The air smells cleaner out here somehow .
Then I hear something . The rev of an engine .
I turn to see a car speeding down the road behind us . The handlebars wobble as I look round . Shit .
‘ Jack! ’ Rose cries . She ’ s scared .
‘ It ’ s OK! ’
I keep moving, allowing the bike to race onwards, using the gradient of the hill to speed up . I glance round for somewhere to pull in, but the hedgerow is too dense .
The engine is louder now, so loud that I can ’ t hear Rose screaming any more .
‘ Slow down! ’ I yell at the car .
But it doesn ’ t . Its bonnet is now in my peripheral vision . Its horn blares .
Rose ’ s fingers dig so deeply into my shoulders that I—
A sickening crunch . And then I ’ m in mid-air . Hurtling through it .
I hit the tarmac with a crack . My body bounces and I roll, twice, three times . I stop, just as I hear the screech of breaks .
I can ’ t feel anything .
I hear ringing . A constant, high-pitched ringing in my ears .
I open my eyes . There ’ s blood on the tarmac in front of me .
And then I see the car, further down the road .
An old car . Green . A yellow stripe down its bonnet .
The door opens and a man steps out . Everything is blurry . I can ’ t see his face .
Who are you? I try to say . What are you doing? But no sound comes out .
I watch him step forwards, towards the crumpled bike . Beside it is a bundle of clothes .
That ’ s strange . I don ’ t remember seeing clothes on the road .
The man leans down over it . He says something . ‘ Oh, God . Oh my God …’
Oh no . Oh no …
Rose, I try to yell . Rose! But again, there ’ s no sound .
The man starts to pace back and forth . He takes out his phone and dials . He starts saying things I can ’ t compute – it sounds all muffled – but I can make out someone on the other end . A female voice . Screaming .
‘ I didn ’ t mean to! ’ he ’ s saying . ‘ I ’ m not drunk – I only had a couple . The bike … You told me to get the bike back! What do I do? ’
He listens for a moment . Then he hangs up and dials again .
‘ Karl …’ I hear him say . Then muffled, quiet into the receiver . Pacing back and forth . Saying, ‘ OK . OK . OK .’ Again and again and again .
When he puts the phone down this time, he picks up the bike .
I hazily watch him moving it into the back of his car, then getting into the front seat . It ’ s like I’m underwater, the slam of the door sounding distant and muted . The engine starts again and the car begins to reverse, turning away from us . And then he ’ s gone .
Rose . Rose …
I can ’ t move my body .
I lie, staring at her, for what feels like a lifetime . She is still . Completely still .
I go in and out of faded darkness . The sky is almost black now . It ’ s cold . Very cold .
I see the flash of headlights . I hear tyres stopping somewhere behind me . The slam of car doors . I flinch .
Voices .
Someone on the telephone . ‘ We need help out here . We ’ re not far from Lewes …’
Someone leans over me . ‘ Are you OK? Can you hear me? ’
‘ My sister ,’ I manage . ‘ Please help her …’
‘ Who did this? ’
‘ I don ’ t know … He came out of nowhere .’
‘ What did he look like? ’
‘ I don ’ t know …’
Then people are crowding round her . Round Rose .
Someone is pushing down into her chest – again and again .
And then the sound of sirens .
TIME ENDED