Page 9

I fumble for a glass of water when my fingers snag something. My eyes lower to a piece of paper.

Bryn Walter

A breath of relief leaves me. The corners of my lip twitch, my eyes catching on her name. Her address and phone number are scribbled underneath it.

A knock at the door startles me, and I groan in pain at my sudden movement. I look to the woman standing at the door and shrink back into the bed immediately. I might not know who she is, but I know what she is. A social worker.

‘Asher Vale.’ She smiles warmly. ‘I’m Liz. How are you feeling?’

‘Fine.’

Her eyes dart across my battered body. ‘You don’t look so fine, Asher.’

‘It’s just Ash.’

‘Asher,’ she says, gently, and then clears her throat. ‘Ash, sorry. Can we talk for a minute?’

Social workers are always the same. The same suits. The same forced kindness. The overuse of my name in sentences to make me feel like they actually know me.

Liz purses her lips for a moment. ‘The hospital staff have tried to get onto your dad, but they haven’t had any luck.’

‘He’s deaf.’ I reply. ‘He can’t hear the phone.’

She pauses, her eyes narrowing slightly as she analyses me. ‘I heard there was an altercation.’

‘That’s what they’re calling it?’ My voice cracks on the last word, and I clench my teeth so hard it hurts. I won’t give her anything more than that.

Her eyes dart down to the clipboard she’s holding. ‘Ash, this isn’t the first time you’ve been admitted to the hospital with injuries like this. My notes say that, in the past, there have been issues with your brother. Did he do this to you?’

She studies me closely. I hate it. Hate the pity simmering beneath her careful expression.

‘You know I’m not here to judge you,’ she says softly. ‘I just want to understand what happened.’

‘Nothing happened,’ I say. ‘I slipped over when out for a run in the forest. It’s no big deal.’

Her silence tells me she doesn’t buy it. None of them ever do. They just write down their theories in neat little boxes, tuck me into some category that makes sense to them. Neglect. Violence. High-risk family environment. They don’t know the half of it.

‘Your father hasn’t come by,’ Liz says, cautious, as if I’m a bomb about to detonate at the slightest movement.

I shrug. ‘He’s busy.’

She sighs in a way that makes it seem like this weighs on her more than it weighs on me.

‘Ash, you don’t have to protect him. Or your brother.’ Exhaling, I glare at the wall, feeling irritated. Not because she’s correct in her assumption, but because she has the power to remove me from my family. The last thing I want is to be forced into a foster home. I can look out for myself. I always have. My home life might be a complete fuck up, but at least I have the freedom to come and go as I please, and other than my brother when he’s in an episode, there isn’t anyone breathing down my neck.

‘I’m not protecting anyone,’ I say. ‘I just don’t like talking to people who get paid to pretend they care.’

Liz flinches. She opens her mouth, but pauses once more, as if unsure what to say next. Instead of arguing with me, she tries again. ‘Where do you live, Ash?’

‘Near the village.’

Her eyes narrow for a moment. ‘Where?’

‘Look, Liz,’ I say her name exaggeratedly. ‘I don’t know you. I’m not going to tell you where I live.’

She stares back at me, unflinching. ‘I’m here to help you.’

My shoulders sag, a sigh escaping me. I let moisture fill my eyes, then lift them to meet hers. ‘Really?’