Although he can’t see, he covers his face with his hands and tries to recall the last thing he can remember.

Mum had asked him to go to the hospital with him but he’d said no. Not only had he refused but he’d hurled abuse at her. He is guilt-ridden over some of the things he said, accusing her of not loving him enough, screaming at her that it would serve her right if he disappeared. He wishes now he had gone to Kieron’s appointment, but he hadn’t wanted to spend the journey in awkward silence. Her, hurt. Him, ashamed. When he sees her again he’ll tell her how sorry he is.

If he sees her again.

He’d spent the rest of the morning shut in his room with Kieron, playing on the Xbox, keeping out of Mum’s way, trying to make silent amends. Although he didn’t say so he knew Kieron was disappointed that Connor wouldn’t be coming to the hospital so he’d asked Kieron to ring him straight after his appointment, promised he’d play with him again when he got home. Around lunchtime Mum and Kieron had left and then the doorbell had rung. Connor had bounded downstairs and opened the door to the postman, taken in a parcel. He’d locked the door and slung the package on the worktop in the kitchen, the kitchen where they sit and eat their meals together, as a family. Will he ever see them again? Connor wishes he had done things differently. Talked more. Listened more. Connor knew that Kieron was scared of dying, his brave face couldn’t hide that. He should have been honest answering his brother’s questions. Shared what it was like to kiss a girl. To love a girl.

His thoughts drift until he lurches forward as the car turns a sharp corner.

Focus.

After lunch, he’d felt trapped – ironic now – and considered going for a mooch around town, but the world scared him in a way it never used to. Tyler and Ryan were missing and a fear had settled over his skin that he’d be next. He was safer indoors, home.

Upstairs, he had fired up his Xbox again. Positioned his headphones over his ears.

Call of Duty – Mum hated it, of course.

‘War isn’t something to be glamourized.’ She had been disapproving when Aidan had bought Connor a copy. ‘Imagine how frightened soldiers are? The apprehension their families face each time they leave. The monstrosities the doctors and nurses witness as they piece them back together.’

‘Chill out, Mum,’ he’d told her. ‘It’s just a game.’

But he felt it now. The fear, the dread, the horror.

All of it.

Focus.

His thumbs twitched, reminding him the Xbox controller had been in his hand. He’d played for… he didn’t know.