“You can’t do anything to me. It wasn’t my fault,” Nikita mumbled, backing away, his whole body shaking with fear.
At the start of June, warm summer weather settled in. People, starved for nature and relaxation, fled the dusty, stifling cities for cottages, the countryside, or the seaside. Early that morning, Steven, his wife Laura, and their daughter Sophie were also heading out for the weekend—to a small village where Steven had grown up and where his mother still lived.
“All set? Got everything? Let’s go before the sun really starts burning,” Steven said, climbing into the car. Sophie sat beside her father, while Laura settled in the back, away from the air conditioning.
At a family meeting, they’d decided Sophie would spend her last summer break before exams with her grandmother. She hadn’t wanted to leave town, but her friends were slowly scattering, and staying behind would’ve been dull.
“Why the long face? You’ll see—you’ll love it there. There are friends waiting. You might not even want to come back,” Steven reassured her.
“Yeah, right, Dad, whatever,” Sophie muttered, buckling her seatbelt.
“That’s the spirit,” Steven said cheerfully. “Last proper break before your final year—exams, university, then adulthood.”
The city was waking, shaking off its drowsiness. The roads were still empty, so they made quick progress.
The sun had just risen, its rays piercing through the trees flanking the motorway, sharp as needles in their eyes. “Everything’s fine… so why do I feel so uneasy?” Steven thought, watching the grey road stream beneath the wheels.
Four hours later, they arrived in the village, a place drenched in greenery and flowers. Granny flung open the door, gasped with joy, and kissed each of them in turn.
“My Sophie! Growing so tall—practically a lady! Steven, I’ve made your favourite pasties. Don’t crowd the hall, come in!” she fussed.
“Everything’s just the same,” Steven said, breathing in the familiar scent of home as he took in the unchanged room. “Not a thing moved. Still smells like childhood. And you, Mum—just the same.” He hugged her.
“Oh, stop that!” his mother swatted his words away. “You must be hungry after the drive. Wash up—breakfast’s ready.”
“Keep an eye on this one, Mum. Don’t let her run wild—no late-night gallivanting,” Steven warned, stuffing half a pasty in his mouth and groaning with pleasure.
“Listen to you! Have you forgotten what you were like at her age?” his mother chuckled, sliding him a mug of homemade elderflower cordial.
“Exactly. Go on, Gran—tell me what he was really like. Bet he wasn’t the perfect little saint he pretends,” Sophie teased.
Gran bustled about, laying out more treats, then glanced out the window.
“Tea, anyone?” She surveyed her guests, then smirked at Sophie. “Your lot’s already waiting in the yard. Saw the car pull in.”
“Who?” Sophie darted to the window.
“Eat first,” Steven said sternly. “They’ll wait.”
“I’m full. Thanks, Gran—pasties were amazing.” Sophie shifted impatiently.
“Off you go, restless thing,” Gran relented. “Don’t be late for lunch.”
And Sophie was gone.
“Keep her in line, Mum. Looks grown-up, but she’s still got her head in the clouds,” Steven said as the door shut behind her.
“Safe as houses here. Don’t fret.”
The next evening, Steven and Laura prepared to leave. By the car, he gave Sophie final instructions.
“Help Gran. And keep your phone on, yeah?”
“Dad, enough! I get it,” Sophie rolled her eyes. “If you’re that worried, maybe I should just come back with you?”
“Honestly, Steven, you’re smothering her,” Laura interceded. “Let’s go—we’ll be back late enough as it is.”
As they drove off, Steven watched Gran and Sophie shrink in the rearview mirror. He glanced at Laura. “She’s calm. Why am I wound up? Sophie’s clever—nothing’ll happen. Need to learn to let go…” He tried to shake the inexplicable dread gnawing at him.
Three weeks passed. Sophie called daily, updating them on village life. Gradually, Steven relaxed—until Saturday morning, when the phone jolted him awake.
“Work calling?” Laura mumbled, eyes still shut.
Steven grabbed his mobile. His mother’s name flashed. He answered instantly.
“Mum? Why so early?” His heart pounded, sensing disaster.
“Steven… I’m sorry. I couldn’t keep Sophie safe,” his mother wept.
“What happened?” He shot up, grabbing jeans from the chair.
“Just come. She’s in hospital—coma—” Her sobs drowned the rest.
“Get dressed. Sophie’s hurt,” Steven said, flinging the phone aside, tugging on his jeans.
Laura paled, clutching the bed.
“What’s wrong with Sophie?” she whispered.
“Mum’s hysterical—we’ll know more when we get there.”
He’d skipped refuelling last night. Now, queues sprawled at every petrol station—weekenders fleeing the city’s heat.
“What now? We’re wasting time!” Laura wrung her hands.
“Hang on.” Steven grabbed a jer, filled it, and dumped the fuel into the tank. They sped off.
“She didn’t want to go… We made her… If she’d stayed—” Laura whimpered.
“Stop it!” Steven snapped. “Bad enough without this. Might not be serious. Mum panics easily.” He didn’t believe it either.
At the hospital, his mother rushed to him, sobbing into his chest.
“She’s hysterical. Stay with her—I’ll find the doctor,” he told Laura.
The consultant sat in his office, coffee steaming.
“Ah, Mr. Carter. We’ve operated—removed the hematoma. But she’s still unconscious. Youth’s on her side… Coffee?”
“Will she… recover?” Steven choked out.
“We’ve done all we can. Coffee?”
“Where’s the boy? The one riding with her?”
“Trauma ward. Daniel Morris.”
Steven stormed out.
Daniel lay in bed, leg cast jutting under the sheets.
“You Daniel?”
“Yeah. You’re…?”
“Sophie’s father. What happened?”
“We were biking. Roads were wet—hit something. Stone, maybe. Bike skidded. We flew.”
“No helmets?” Steven guessed.
“Yeah.” Daniel looked away. “Just a quick ride.”
“Then what?”
“I—I broke my leg. Sophie was out cold. My phone was smashed. Hers wasn’t there.”
“So you just lay there till morning?” Steven’s voice shook with fury.
“Nobody drove past! I couldn’t walk—how was I supposed to—? It wasn’t my fault!” Daniel shouted.
Steven studied him. Something was off.
“Biked myself at your age. Never alone—always in groups. Who else was there?”
Daniel flinched.
“Spill it. If you’re innocent, why lie?”
“Promise you won’t tell?” Daniel pleaded.
“Talk. Now.”
“Sophie liked me. Ethan didn’t like that. He told me to stay away. But he wasn’t around that night, so we went riding. My mate’s bike was busted. We took off to avoid complaints. Stopped to talk. Then Ethan’s bike roared up—custom Harley. His dad spoils him rotten. Sophie panicked—hates him. We tried to outrun him, but he caught up… Then the stone.”
“Or he rammed you?”
“No! I hit the stone. Swear!”
“You lied. Why believe you now?”
Daniel shrugged. “Your choice.”
“Why wait till morning? Ethan could’ve called help.”
Daniel stiffened.
“Did he even try?”
“He… said he’d get help.”
“He left you.”
Daniel looked down.
“Where’s Ethan?” Steven’s jaw clenched.
Daniel gave an address but begged, “Don’t say I told you! His dad’s loaded—nothing’ll happen to him.”
Steven drove to a gated house. Waited. Finally, a lanky boy in leathers sauntered out.
“Hey—where’s Maple Lane?” Steven called.
Ethan gave lazy directions.
“Mind showing me?”
“Busy.”
“Won’t take a minute.”
Ethan hesitated, then got in.
Steven drove, then veered onto a backroad.
“Wrong way!” Ethan fidgeted.
“Nice bike—why walk?”
Ethan blinked. “Mum’s rules.”
“Or scratches from ramming Daniel’s bike?”
Ethan paled. “Who are you?”
Steven stopped, yanked him out.
Ethan stumbled, knees buckling under Steven’s grip.
“LetSteven released him, got back in the car, and drove away, whispering, “Let the law handle it—Sophie needs me more.”
