Fragments

Back in Elena’s hospital room, after Courtney had left, Alyson was trying to coax a word out of Toby. His mouth stayed stubbornly shut; his eyes stayed haunted and closed off. In his mind, memories were played over and over in his head, until all he wanted to do was cover his ears with his hands and scream. He wanted to scream until the screams in his memories faded away.

Everyone kept asking the same questions repetitively. “Why were you with Elena? Who was driving? Where were you going? What happened before…before the accident happened? Do you know what caused it? Who was in the car? Whose car was it? When did you leave? Do you even remember anything?”

Toby didn’t answer any of them; in truth, he didn’t know the answers to half of the questions. His poor memory was botched. He could remember sounds of the crash and who was in the car and the fact that everyone was fighting with each other. He couldn’t remember getting in the car. He couldn’t remember anything from between the time he was in his room, playing video games, to the dark road they were travelling down with raised voices making him cower in his seat.

Later that day, with Courtney in the room again, two policeman in uniform entered. They wore blank expressions, ones that almost scared Alyson. How could they feel nothing for such a tragic event?

“Afternoon,” the shorter one said, nodding to Alyson and Courtney. Neither Toby nor Christopher had bothered to even glance their way. “We are Sergeants Peter Harvey and Brett Stanley. We are here to question Toby Davis on his involvement in the car crash that happened last night.”

“Don’t bother.” Courtney’s tone was sharp, almost rude, and she didn’t regret it in the slightest. How was this any of their business? “He hasn’t spoken a word since last night.” Since the crash, she wanted to say but found she couldn’t.

The taller, though younger looking, man walked forwards and pulled up a chair beside the thirteen year old boy. His tone friendly, he began to talk to him. “Hi, Toby. I’m Brett Stanley. I’m here to ask you a few questions about last night so we can understand what really happened. It would be really helpful for everyone involved in this, including your sister” – no one had to ask which sister he was referring to – “if you’d answer them. What do you think?”

Toby’s eyes actually flickered towards the man before settling on Elena’s face and then the floor. This was an improvement.

“Okay…” Stanley started to bite his pinkie fingernail, which Alyson found strangely adorable, until he noticed what he was doing and pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Can you tell me who was in the car with you, Toby? We know about you, Elena, Leana Donnelly and Andrew Emerson, but Miss Donnelly said there was another girl there. Is this correct?”

Toby nodded mutely.

“Can you tell me her name?” Stanley prompted. “Miss Donnelly didn’t know who she was.”

“Elena’s friend,” he whispered. “Richelle.”

At this, Alyson gasped and covered her mouth. Richelle. So she was there. That was why Beth couldn’t find her. All of this blurted out of Alyson’s mouth in one big hurry, finished at the end with one question: “How come you didn’t know she was there until Leana Donnelly and Toby told you?”

The shorter man, Peter Harvey, answered this question. “She wasn’t at the crash site.”