The world turns upside down, ground to sky and back again. My spine quivers like a freshly released bowstring. All the windows frost over immediately, except for the one right behind my left ear, which disintegrates. My organs swim around my torso, too loose in their moorings. The fluid in my brain whirls like my skull is a blender.

I black out, and dream of Thistle. She’s sitting next to me in the shattered car, looking at the crumpled door. Man, she says. The director’s gonna have my ass for this. Then she looks behind me and says, Blake! Wake up!

I open my eyes. Strong hands are grabbing me by the armpits, dragging me from the wreckage. I’m too dizzy to help. It’s all I can do to keep the vomit down.

I find myself on my back on the freezing asphalt. The world keeps spinning, as though I were still trapped in a rolling car. When it steadies, I find myself staring up at Shannon Luxford.

‘Motherfucker,’ he says. I’m not who he was expecting.

I try to say something clever, but my jaw hurts. One of my teeth is loose in my mouth. I resist the urge to spit it out. A dentist can replant it if the root doesn’t dry out.

Shannon raises a phone to his ear. ‘Fred,’ he says. ‘I got the wrong one.’

There’s a pause.

‘Yeah, okay,’ Shannon says. ‘Thanks, man. I appreciate it. See you soon.’

He ends the call and lifts me up over his shoulder. I feel like Lois Lane. My ears are ringing and I think I might throw up. I’m helpless as he throws me into the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. Thanks to the bull-bar, the truck is almost undamaged.

Maybe he’ll dismember me and throw me into a ravine. Maybe Thistle will eventually find my body. That will prove I’m innocent.

Luxford puts on my seatbelt and gets a roll of duct tape out of the glove compartment. He starts winding it around my torso, tying me to the passenger seat. I will my arms to move. My fingers wiggle, but my arms are too heavy.

I let out an involuntary groan as the tape squeezes my chest.

‘Oh, does this hurt?’ Luxford says. ‘My bad.’

Then he punches me in the head. As my skull snaps sideways, I accidentally swallow the tooth.

‘You don’t even know what pain is, asshole,’ Luxford says. ‘Not yet.’

When I’m fixed firmly to the seat, Luxford starts binding my ankles. I try to kick him, but my feet move sluggishly. He pins them easily and keeps working, like he’s putting a diaper on a squirming toddler.

This thought makes me realise that I’ve pissed myself at some point.

Luxford notices too. ‘Goddamn,’ he says. ‘That reeks. Glad this isn’t my car.’

‘You got my message quick,’ I slur.