Page 5 of No Safe Place

Wednesday | Morning

Callum

The sun was coming up, and the walls were closing in.

They always did, first thing in the morning.

His sleep patterns were fucked. He’d barely slept all week, finally passing out properly yesterday afternoon. He must have slept for thirteen hours, and now it was five, maybe six in the morning.

There was no way to be sure. There were no clocks in this house.

The sun threw weak beams of light through the cracks in the curtains and Callum counted dancing dust particles until his heart rate slowed.

Most days it took him hours to leave his bedroom – battle one of many.

But today, Callum had slept, and he felt better. The good days were getting fewer and further apart, so it was important to make the most of them. He’d do some tidying, take his dirty plates downstairs and wash them up.

His fingers itched to pick up the pen on the bedside table, but he wouldn’t let himself write until he’d achieved something.

Six deep breaths, Callum decided, and then up.

He paused outside Lily’s door, listening for voices, but they weren’t awake yet. Of course they weren’t.

Callum crept down the stairs, skipping the second from bottom because it creaked.

He hated it when Scott stayed over. Dr Scott with his slicked-back hair and hand-ground Fairtrade Nicaraguan coffee.

Callum crossed his arms and frowned down at the neatly polished shoes in the middle of the cramped, cluttered hallway.

Callum didn’t need to keep shoes in the hallway, because he never went anywhere.

Scott’s brogues were next to a haphazard pile of Lily’s eclectic footwear – blue pumps, pink Converse, battered Doc Martens – threaded with lime-green laces stolen from Callum, a long time ago.

They didn’t go together, those shoes, Callum thought sadly, staring at the brogues.

‘Twat,’ he said out loud to himself, picking up Scott’s wallet and dropping it down the back of the radiator cover.