5.
We crossed the town borders with a mattress and a German Shepherd on the back seat and the boot crammed in a Tetris-like fashion with belongings.
A dull, quaking heaviness lifted itself and hovered precariously above us. A kind of pressed-in white-noise that clawed at my ribs.
With an almighty screech, the car swerved off the road and shattered into a large tree. Branches bubbled and snaked lumpily around the car. I unbuckled my seatbelt. My mother screamed.
‘HELP!’
I looked to the driver’s seat, but my mother had disappeared and a small, steelgrey bottle opener sat in her place. It seemed to sneer.
‘Betcha took it, ya rat. Filthy goddamn vermin. Worthless.’
A wave of nausea swept over me and I opened the car door and retched onto the ground. My stomach rose to where my heart should have been. Rolling and swelling. Nothing happened.
The grass shivered, browned and melted into beach-coloured dirt.
‘HELP!’
I staggered out of the wreckage and ran towards my mother’s frantic voice. The ground grew softer with each step until it sloshed away from underneath me and running became impossible. A hand ran its fingernails down my calf.
Alex.
He was still nine years old. Freckled and mellow. His legs and eyes were missing and for every lungful of air he took, he gave a lonely whistle.
‘Wuddayacallit, pneumonia or somefin’.’
I screamed and batted him away. My mother echoed my cry.
‘HELP! SOLA! SOLA!’
‘MUM! MUM, I’M COMING!’
The ground lapped at my fingers, my shoulders and ears.
‘Rex! Stop it!’ my mother snapped.
Alex disintegrated and my eyes flew open. Rex ruffled his nose through my hair and licked my earlobe with a sandpaper tongue.
‘Bloody hell, he doesn’t give up, does he?’ she chuckled.
‘Mnnn, where are we?’
‘No idea. Go back to sleep,’ she paused and adjusted the revision mirror. ‘You too, Rex.’