The Lost Boy

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It was only when she placed her hands on the steering wheel that she saw they were bloody. Her palms felt sticky against the leather. But she ignored the blood as she shifted into reverse and a bit too hastily backed out of the driveway. She heard the gravel spray out from under the tyres.

They had a long drive ahead of them. She cast a glance at the back seat. Sam was asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. He really ought to be strapped in with a seat belt, but she didn’t have the heart to wake him. She would just have to drive as carefully as possible. Immediately she let up on the accelerator.

The summer night had already started to brighten. At this time of year the hours of darkness were practically over before they even began. And yet this night seemed endless. Everything had changed. Fredrik’s brown eyes had stared rigidly up at the ceiling, and she realized that there was nothing she could do. She had to save herself and Sam. She couldn’t think about the blood. She couldn’t think about Fredrik.

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