Page 47 of No Safe Place

Friday | Midnight

Andy

He opened his eyes.

Andy didn’t know how long he’d been lying on his bed, headphones on, eyes tight shut. Days?

You need to go.

The room was still spinning, and he looked down at his chest. His T-shirt was stiff with blood.

He removed the headphones, wincing in pain.

You can’t stay here.

The house was silent.

He got up from the bed, breathing heavily, dragged his large rucksack from under it, and placed it on the bed.

It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay.

He carefully added black clothes, a few books and his late father’s pocket watch. Last in was ￡1,000 in cash, which his mother had given him for emergencies, before she went into the hospice.

Anything that could be used to trace him was left in the drawer of the desk, in orderly rows. Phone, cards, Oyster. A short note on top of the desk said he was going to his mother’s house, if any of his housemates even noticed he was gone.

He hoisted the rucksack over one shoulder.