It didn’t even matter though. June was too slow, and Heath was too fast, and we had barely gotten into the forest before she screamed. The most awful, animalistic sound, the sort of sound that reminds you that we’re no different from mice, that we’re not gods, just mammals, that when we scream it all sounds the same, and pain is pain, and Heath had June’s left arm clenched in his fist and he squeezed and tugged and ripped.

That’s when I heard the sirens.

Heath did, too, because he dropped June like she was nothing, climbed back into the car and tried to start it again, but the tyres had now disappeared up to halfway, and hardly even turned when he floored the accelerator.

Maybe this was the endorphin rush that comes with pain, that says shush, it’s OK, but I was almost revelling in Heath’s panic; the sirens were closer now, and I had June in my arms, and it occurred to me I was watching him lose everything.

I looked down at June, her eyes screwed shut; never before this had I noticed how human she was, how breakable.

The police emerged from the tree line.

There were two of them, both carrying flashlights; one illuminated the car, the other June and me. I thought of how pitiful we must look to them, these two girls huddled together, soaked with mud and rainwater and blood. For the first time, I assessed myself, put a hand up again to the warm spot on my cheek, followed the trail down, down …

Once the officer had eyed us over, he craned his neck to speak into the walkie-talkie on his chest.

Where do I start? That was the only thing I remember thinking, the only thing I thought that wasn’t just red, but a series of words: Where do I start?

I remember sitting with June, her head propped up on my shoulder, rain lashing at us while the lights grew brighter and brighter.

Shouting.

More sirens. Not police – ambulances.

Heath, being told to get out of the sinking car.

I remember ‘You’ll be all right, girls. We’ll get you fixed up.’

Mom. She was there. She’d come with the cops from the station. Sobbed. Held me gently. Didn’t even worry about getting mud on her clothes. ‘You’re OK, baby.’

Heath, being taken away.

He’d scared the whole neighbourhood, they said. Got calls from everywhere, all about some lunatic driver. Even folks a mile away had heard a crash.

The sky was so bright over the river. Like fireflies.

The stars are close, but not close enough to take sides, I realized, as I stepped over the fallen tree at the fork in the trail, the splinters of our names cast aside and buried in wreckage.

Chapter 18

Chapter 18

They separated us when we got to the hospital.