They turned. The car bumped, slowly, up a hill. She pictured the metal tyre iron, lying on the back seat. She imagined herself reaching into the back, and the feel of holding it in her hand. She couldn’t reach it with her broken arm. She couldn’t turn to look. And she had no rage. She didn’t think she’d do it even if she could. She was wounded enough for both of them.

‘Into the wilderness,’ he said.

The pine trees thinned, and she could see long slopes going downwards, and no houses, not one, and no lights. She was far from help. She couldn’t fight. She had to not think about it, that he was taking her somewhere nobody would see him. All she could do was not give way. All she had was that. She needed to be able to think. But she couldn’t think, her mind kept failing her, and knowing that it was failing was desperate, and made her want to cry.

‘Just up here?’ he said, like looking for a picnic spot.

The car crawled then surged and crawled again, on rocks and into potholes. Nausea hit her like a punch, and waves of pain, and sudden sweat. She closed her eyes and dreamed of seabirds, soaring and white above a choppy sea. She heard kindly voices, talking, in another room. Up here, they said, just look, it’s beautiful. She heard him whoop. A crass sound. A cowboy sound. She opened her eyes.

‘Fuckin’ yeah,’ he said. ‘This. Is. Perfect.’

The car stopped. He turned the music off. In the sudden quiet her blood rushed, and she felt terror, and a sad longing to be safe.

‘Where’s Dan?’ she asked. She whispered it.

He turned the engine off.

‘Let me help you.’

He got out of the car. The fresh chill of altitude blew over her, and the smell of the pine trees. He opened her door.

‘Careful,’ he said, standing above her. ‘You look like shit. No offence.’

He watched her haul herself up, holding on to the door. Her head fell forward.

‘Over here,’ he said, snapping his fingers at her.

She leaned on the car. She looked around. It was almost night. There was nothing, just the line of pines across the short grass, which was almost invisible now, and rocks, and the smell of the mountains. Below them, she could just see the track they had driven up, curving out of sight. On the other side of the track was big, dark forest.

‘Look at that,’ he said, surprised. ‘Your shoulder. Your bone. Shit. When did you do that?’

‘When I fell.’

‘Huh. OK. It’s good you’re here.’ He went to the back of the car and opened the boot. ‘Must’ve dropped it. Damn.’