‘I can help. Mum can help. There’s a way out of this, James. All you have to do is say the word and we’ll be able to get you through this. We can get the right treatment, take care of you at home. You can recover. You can take as much time as you need. You’re still young. You have your whole life ahead of you.’

‘I know. I know. And I will, but …’ But all he could think was I need the prick of that needle and the rush and then the oblivion, everything else is too hard, too damn hard, and I can do that later, recover later, get help later, but now, now I need the needle and the pain to go away and the darkness that follows.

‘You can start to work again. Take your time learning a trade. Become a teacher. Anything. The world is a wonderful place, James. Life is a wonderful gift. Don’t waste yours.’ His dad cupped his chin. His hand was warm. It smelled clean. ‘And I can help you. Come with me and leave that life behind.’

James was gripped by an all-consuming panic at the thought of going with him, of walking away from what he knew, from his friends.

From the next high.

‘Sorry,’ he stammered. ‘Sorry. I can’t. Not now.’

3

He fingered the notes in the pocket of his jeans. Ten twenties; two hundred pounds. It was what his dad normally gave him. They met about once a fortnight, and it was enough to get him through.

And he needed it today. Needed it more than normal after the conversation with his dad.

Life is a wonderful gift.

He didn’t know how his dad could say that. How he could even think it, not after what had happened to Maggie. James thought about her every day. He had since she had gone. He had wondered where she was and what had happened to her and in his head he saw her suffering violent and endless torture, heard her screams and cries for help and was powerless to do anything.

In his dreams, he rescued her. In the daytime he endured her suffering.

And his dad said life is a wonderful gift? It wasn’t. It was anything but.

He’d made up his mind that his was over. In truth it had been over for a while. There was nothing worth living for. Every day was such a fight. All he had was the drugs, and that was no life.

He was going to get a massive dose. Take it all. Dissolve into a state of bliss.

Mum and Dad would be sad, but it was better for them in the long run. He was worthless, a pathetic, useless excuse for a son who caused them nothing but trouble and pain. It was time to set them free.