Ecstasy

The fall wasn't meant to happen. That part, at least, wasn't planned.
But now, Luke's stuck in a limbo between dream and nightmare and the bottle in his pocket seems to be able to say a lot more about the incident than he can.
However, when reality does begin to sink in in Luke's mind, it's all anyone can do to stop him from letting go of everything - Forever...That is, if people can begin to care...

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6. The Millers

Number 93, Cherry Walk was a pretty, little modern semi detached house with small clusters of cherry trees dotted around it. The house, which looks so peaceful, makes the pair of young policemen walking up the front path look very out of place. Grimly, they knock on the door. 

"I hate this part of the job." Says the taller of the two.

His companion shakes his head "Yeah. And you'd think sleepovers were safe, wouldn't you? ...If I were a parent, I'd have thought so, anyway..."

At the top of the house, a light appears in one of the windows. Several seconds later, a pretty, smiling woman with wavy, chestnut hair, a pink dressing gown and matching slippers opens the door. As soon as she sees the policemen, the smile vanishes and terror darkens her pretty features. "Luke..." She whispers. "It's Luke, isn't it?"

The tall policeman blinks in surprise and pushes his blonde hair out of his eyes. This woman is readily accepting that something has happened to her son. That does not happen in most families, taking a while for the truth to sink in.

Quickly recovering himself, the policeman bites his lip and looks nervously at his companion. 

"Tell me!" Urges Charlotte Miller, not rudely "By law I'm his mother!"

The shorter, dark-haired policeman nudges the other, sharply. "Quite." He said, politely "Yes, ma'am, your son has, indeed, been in an accident."

"How? Why? Is he alright?" Gasps the mother. "I thought he was at a sleepover!"

"Um... The incident seems to have happened at the sleepover." Says the blonde policeman quietly.

Charlotte's face crumples "What! B-but why? Why haven't Leonardo's parents told me? I should've been informed, surely?"

"Indeed, you should've done. But Mr and Mrs Dobinskii were not in the house last night... And we have reason to believe that they were, in fact, out of the country. On a luxury holiday in Paris." 

"Paris." Repeated Mrs Miller. "My brother lives there..." She pulls herself together. "I'm sorry. what can I do? We only have one car, which is in my husband's possession; we haven't been on very good terms, lately..."

Her voice trails off as a sleepy-eyed, pyjama-clad sixteen-year-old boy appears in the doorway next to his mother. "Mum? What's happening? Is Luke OK?"

"Oh, honey, I don't know. Luke's been in an accident."

A similar expression to Charlotte's appears on Harry Miller's face. Then, almost determinedly, he start shoving on a coat and shoes, leaving his slippers abandoned in the hall.

"Would you like a lift to the hospital?" Asks the blonde policeman, as Mrs Miller, too, starts blindedly pulling on garments.

"Hmm?..." She mumbles, distractedly. "What? Oh... Yes. That would be great..."

 

Only a minute and a half later, mother and son are squashed in the back of the police car, on their way to the hospital, and the policemen are doing their best to fill them in.

"How?" Charlotte keeps asking "How did it happen?"

"We don't yet know all of the details." Says the dark-haired policeman.

"Yet." Says the blonde one, confidently. "I'm Gordon, by the way. Just thought you ought to know."

"And I'm Dylan." Added the other.

"Charlotte." Said Charlotte. "And my son's called Harry."

"Nice to meet you." Said Dylan. "Not under these circumstances, obviously.... But still..."

Charlotte smiled.

"Anyway," said Gordon "back to business... We think, well, we know, that there was some usage of drugs and alcohol involved."

"GORDON!" Yelped Dylan, who was driving. "Don't do that! You can't drop bombs like that! One minute the atmosphere's pleasant, the next you say something like that! Honestly! Cut it out, man!"

"Sorry." Mumbled Gordon, sheepishly. "I'm no good at conversation. I'm better at the action stuff."

"Yes, well..." Dylan mused. "Just don't in future, okay?" He turned to his passengers, who were both white-faced.

"Drugs?" Whispered Harry.

"Luke?" Whispered Charlotte.

"How?" They chorused.

"Um... We don't know exactly..." Admitted Gordon "But it was definitely in his system. Then there were the cuts all over him too... Old ones, some of 'em. Done with a knife."

Dylan shot Gordon another look, but Gordon didn't notice it. "Don't suppose you two know anything? Being his family and all?" He said loudly, draining his neck to look at the pair in the back.

Charlotte let out a dry sob.

"No." Said Harry, defensively. "I don't."

"Sorry!" Mouthed Dylan. "He's difficult."

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