My Girl by Jack Jordan Page B

with a missing arm, was Chloe.

II

SEVENTEEN
    I had been back at school for less than a month, and already I longed for the next summer to come around. I trudged through the back fields, the strap on my school bag digging into my shoulder from the weight of my books. After a day of learning, writing and reading, I had to go home and do homework, as well as read three chapters of a book that I didn’t even like. Walking over the bridge, I stopped halfway and looked down at the river flowing beneath my feet.
    I should chuck the bloody bag in the river. I’ve just been studying all day, why the hell do I have to go home and do it all over again?
    I imagined throwing the bag from my shoulder and into the water, and rushing to the other side of the bridge to watch the current steal away with it. I came back to reality with a sigh, and continued my trek towards home.
    Walking up the lane towards the village, I wondered what Mum would cook for dinner; I felt sick with hunger. I hadn’t eaten lunch – instead, I had pocketed the money Dad had given me and bought two cigarettes from Amy. I hadn’t even tried smoking yet, but my friends had over the summer, and I felt left out and boring. I wondered if I could pretend I smoked without ever having to prove it in front of the group. The smell alone made me feel sick.
    A car pulled up beside me and I smiled. Uncle Maxim smiled back.
    ‘Get in, kid. I’ll drop you home.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    I got into the passenger seat and dropped my bag by my feet.
    ‘Good day?’ he asked, driving on up the road.
    ‘Kinda.’
    ‘Sucks to be back, I bet.’
    ‘Yeah. Summer holidays went too quickly.’
    ‘It’ll be half-term, soon.’
    I nodded and looked out the window at the first signs of the village: the post office, the corner shop, the steeple of the church by my uncle’s house.
    ‘I just need to get something for your mum from home. I’ll nip in and get it and then drop you back.’
    ‘Okay.’
    Anything to keep me from doing homework.
    He drove on and turned down the lane towards the vicarage. It really was quite pretty: thatched roof, brickwork painted white, surrounded by large, colourful trees that had just begun to turn with autumn.
    Maxim pulled up outside the house.
    ‘I’ll be one sec. I need to find it first. If I’m not out in five minutes, come in and save me.’
    I laughed and watched him enter the house before I began fiddling with the radio. I found a track I liked and relaxed into the passenger seat, looking up at the brightly coloured leaves on the trees and the clouds drifting in the sky. I closed my eyes for a second, listening to the song on the radio, humming along with the tune.
    When I opened my eyes again, the sky wasn’t blue, but dark grey. The radio wasn’t playing anymore. Maxim hadn’t come out of the house since he went inside. The front door was still ajar.
    I got out, leaving my bag in the car, and headed for the door. The cold evening wind blew at my skirt and bit at my bare legs. My hair whipped against my face. When I reached the door, I pushed it wider; the hinges squealed. It was dark inside the house.
    ‘Uncle Maxim?’
    Nothing.
    I stepped inside. The floorboards creaked under my feet.
    ‘Maxim?’
    I walked deeper into the house and gasped as the door slammed shut behind me and something cracked against the side of my head.
    ***
    The first thing I did when I opened my eyes was sit and throw up. The room was so dark it was as though I hadn’t opened my eyes at all. I felt dizzy. The smell of sick was so strong that it made my eyes water. All I could hear were my own frantic breaths. Warm bile soaked through my school shirt until it stuck to my body. My head was throbbing; moving it only made me feel sick again. I tried to raise my hand to touch the wound on my head, but couldn’t. Each time I tried, I heard a rattling: metal against metal; my wrists itched from a fuzzy fabric. They were individually restrained.
    Maxim’s house must