Jen stares at the arrangement of his features. Maybe he is regretful, maybe not. She can’t tell. It must be the shock, but Jen never could read Todd.

Day Zero

Jen must have slept after they got home from the police station, where Todd was detained. She doesn’t feel like she did, but it’s now light outside, and time seemed to become elastic, bending and stretching between the hours.

She rolls on to her side. Say it isn’t true.

She’s alone. Kelly’s side of the bed is empty. He’ll already be up, making calls, she very much hopes. God, he will hate this. Kelly hates any sort of dealing with authority, sat in the reception of the station last night with his hood drawn entirely over his face.

Her clothes litter the bedroom floor like she evaporated out of them and disappeared. She steps over them, getting out new jeans and a plain jumper. Their bedroom is filled with warm autumnal light. The floorboards look glossy with it. Last night’s mist has vanished without a trace.

Jen scrapes her hair back and ventures out on to the hallway, standing outside Todd’s empty room.

Why did he do it? Why did he have a knife on him? Why did he do it outside their house? Who was he, this grown man her son tried to kill? Is he still alive?

Jen stares and stares at the door to her son’s bedroom, lost in thought of how she came to raise a murderer.

Teenage rage. Knife crime. Gangs. Antifa. Which is it? Which hand have they been dealt?

She heads downstairs. She can’t hear Kelly at all. She glances out of the window on the first floor as she descends their stairs, the window that she stood at only hours ago, while everything changed.

The street bears no stains – the rain must have washed the blood away. The ambulance and police have moved on. Even the police tape has gone.

She raises her eyes upwards, towards the blue autumn skies, then down again. Something is strange about their driveway, and not just the memories of last night. She can’t work out what. But it’s something.

She hurries downstairs. It smells of last night in here, before anything happened. Food, candles, cooking. She can’t even remember what they had – she has a terrible memory, something Todd points out often.

She puts her hands on the kitchen counter and tries to breathe deeply.

She hears a voice, right above her, a deep male register. Kelly. She looks at the ceiling, confused. Where is he? Todd’s room? He must be searching it.

‘Kell?’ she calls out, running back up the stairs. ‘We need to get on – I’m going to google for a solic –’

‘What?’ a voice says. It comes from Todd’s room, and is unmistakably his.

Jen takes a step back so massive it makes her stumble at the top of the stairs.

Todd emerges from the confines of his room, wearing a black t-shirt and jogging bottoms. He has clearly just woken, and squints down at her, his pale face the only light in the darkness.