He rushed at me then with such force that I was nearly knocked off my feet.

‘Do you know what it feels like to die, girl?’ he yelled. ‘You think it’s noble or peaceful, eh? No, dying’s not like that. It’s noisy and dirty and it takes a long time for the end to come. I know that cos I’ve killed people. I’ve watched them writhe around in agony with their insides hanging out.’

Behind him I heard Isobel gasp and Steve telling her that everything was all right, that they would be out of here soon. I needed Sarge to stop, to shut up. He was tainting everything with his madness, he was letting Isobel think that I was a crazy person and pushing her further towards Steve. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He had ruined everything by turning up like this. And he wasn’t finished.

‘I watched my friends die,’ he continued, his face just inches from mine. ‘Blown to smithereens and for what? An illegal war started by criminals, madmen who cited the bullshit her old man spouts as a reason for mass slaughter.’

‘I know what you went through,’ I said, watching as a piece of spittle hung suspended from the corner of his mouth. ‘And I know that’s why you’re like you are, why you hear the voices.’

‘You don’t know anything,’ he cried. ‘You’re a child.’

‘She’s not a child.’

Isobel’s voice pierced the air then I heard Steve telling her to be quiet, that she should leave it alone.

‘Listen to your boyfriend,’ Sarge whispered, his breath reeking of stale beer. ‘And keep the hell out of this. You’ve done enough damage. Now come on, Grace, put that bloody gun down and come home.’

I know now that I should have done what he said. I should have kept the peace. But all I could think about was my mother’s letter, her sadness and despair at being kept apart from her child. ‘My precious baba’, that’s what she called me. My precious baba. And the more I focused on those words, the angrier I became. The rage rose inside me like a thick mist. Time slowed down. I could see his face above me but it seemed cracked, like he was falling apart in front of my eyes.

‘No. That is not my home. Not any more.’

The voice that came out of me didn’t sound like my own. It was harder, stronger.

Then I felt his arms grip mine. He stumbled into me like a sleepwalker. I tried to pull him off but he was too heavy. I heard Isobel shout something then felt a crack on the back of my head and the shock of cold snow on my body as I fell.

And then. Nothing.

PART FOUR

40

Lisa

I sit in the centre of the room and let the hand holding the book drop to my side. The writing had been so vivid, so beautifully evocative of the woods and the cold and the moonlight that it feels like I’m out there. I can still smell the winter air, still feel the crunch of snow underneath my feet. My head sways slightly and I stumble to my knees, letting the book fall on the floor beside me.