Page 108 of Freshman

The churning in Alfie’s gut intensified, and he bolted off the sofa, jarring his groin as he went. He staggered to the sink and threw up the contents of his unfed stomach.

Each heave ached his ribs and burned his throat.

Tia watched him from the sofa with no sympathy.

“All this time, you said you never wanted to rely on someone, and you gave in to a violent murderer who tortured three guys. He manipulated you, used you for fun, and then left you to die.”

Alfie thrust his head in the sink and threw up again, clutching his sides as fire spluttered out of him.

“How do you know you weren’t part of it too?”

He spun on the tap. “Part of?”

“His plan…except you were the back-up.”

Back-up plan.

Alfie put his head under the spray from the tap. It hid the tears creeping from his eyes.

The weeks that followed went by in a blur. He was numb and didn’t allow his mind to linger. If Nate tried to sneak into his thoughts, he shoved him away.

His ribs stopped aching, and he could walk without crutches, although if he moved too fast, his leg gave out and he dropped to the ground. Not just Nate’s name was splashed all over the paper, but his too when he appeared at the magistrate’s court. He pleaded guilty and was bailed again until sentencing.

He didn’t leave the house, and when he ordered groceries, the drivers wrinkled their noses and curled their lips.

Tia stopped visiting and distanced herself from the situation. Alfie didn’t blame her, and he didn’t fight for their friendship. The press hounded her, and she had her own life that shouldn’t be soiled by him and his choices.

The last time they spoke, she said she’d see him when he got out.

When he got out.

Nate dragging him from the car had been the perfect distraction, according to Gareth. Alfie acted as the fall-guy to Nate’s plan. The police spent time and resources trying to link the escape to Alfie and gifted Nate with the perfect window of opportunity to vanish overseas.

Someone had to pay for the escape, and the only person left was Alfie.

There had been sightings of Nate from members of the public in France and Portugal, but he hadn’t been caught.

Alfie’s body healed, but he was an empty shell. The numbness persisted, and he welcomed feeling nothing.

The alternative was breaking down, dropping to his knees, and screaming.

The day before his sentence was his nineteenth birthday. He snorted bitterly after his third swig of whisky. No longer a freshman. He doubted many real freshmen spent their second year banged up in prison.

It was going to be the worst year of his life, and he was to blame.

If he had read Nate’s file, if he’d shuddered and grown nauseous at the mention of his name like everyone else, he wouldn’t have got himself into that situation. Nate had told him the men he killed deserved it; he’d told him they’d hurt his sister, but there was no proof.

Alfie had believed him because he wanted to believe him.

Gareth had told him the sentencing would be done quickly by the judge. He grinned warmly and rubbed Alfie on the back, like it was good news.

The next day Alfie dressed smartly—black trousers, white shirt and black tie. He did all his buttons, tucked in his shirt, and fixed his tie into position. If they were to draw his sketch for the press, he at least wanted to look smart.

Gareth smiled at him and gripped his shoulder.

Alfie stared into his brown eyes, but they brought him no comfort.

“At least it’ll be over today.”

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