Page 102 of Save Me

“Your mother had a stroke.”

My father leans back in the chair, arms on the armrests, legs crossed with one ankle resting on the other knee. His face is steely. Impassive. Exactly the same as always.

“Wh-what…What do you mean?” Lydia stammers.

“Your mother had a stroke.” He repeats the words as if he’s learned them by heart. “She’s dead.”

Lydia claps her hands to her mouth and sobs. I feel like I’m not really here. My soul has detached from my body, and I’m watching the scene from somewhere else entirely.

Dad keeps talking, but I only take in the occasional scrap.

…vessel burst…came too late…hospital…nothing more they could do for her…

His mouth is moving, but his words are mingled with the wailing sound from Lydia’s throat. I can hear something else too. Gasping. Loud, hasty panting.

I think it’s me.

I press my hand to my chest to try to make it stop. It doesn’t work. I’m breathing faster and faster but can’t seem to get any air. None of the tips I’ve read on the internet about panic attacks are any use to me now. My body switches onto autopilot, making me break out in a cold sweat.

Mum is dead.

She’sdead.

My father’s face doesn’t change. Maybe this is all just a bad joke. Maybe it’s my punishment for not getting an interview at Balliol.

“When?” I’m still breathing hard, but I get the word out. I feeldizzy. The ground is swaying under my feet. I have to hold on to something but don’t remember how to tell my arms they need to move.

My father looks at me, his expression unreadable. “On Monday afternoon.”

My heart. It’s going to stop any moment, or else explode in my chest. At first, I don’t take in what my dad just said because I’m too busy getting air into my lungs. But after a few choppy breaths, the meaning of his words dawns on me.

On Monday afternoon.

Today is Wednesday.

“Let me get this straight,” I say, my voice trembling. “Mum had a stroke two days ago, and you’re telling us this now?”

I shouldn’t have to ask a question like that. I should go over to my sister and give her a hug. We should be crying together. But it doesn’t feel real. It still feels as though this isn’t really happening—it’s happening to someone else who has temporarily taken control of my body, and I’m just watching on. Powerless and totally stunned.

Dad drums his fingers on the armrests. “I didn’t want you to mess up your interviews.”

I can’t explain what happens next. It’s as though a blazing bolt of lightning strikes in my brain. The next moment, I hurl myself at my father and ram my fist into his face. I punch so hard that the chair tips over beneath him, and Dad and I crash to the ground. Lydia screams. Something falls to the ground and shatters. My fist connects with my father’s indifferent face yet again. Blood spurts from his nose, and a bone in my hand crunches dangerously. There are shards of glass all around us. My hand is burning and throbbing, but I draw my arm back for another blow.

“James, stop it!” Lydia cries.

Someone grabs me from behind and pulls me away from my father. I fight like a wild animal, trying to shake off their firm grip. I want to make my father pay. For everything.

Dad gets up with Lydia’s help. Blood is running from his nose and one corner of his mouth. He touches his face with his fingers and studies the dark redness of it. Then he looks at Percy, who is still holding on to me. “Get him out of here until he’s calmed down.”

Percy pulls me away and drags me down the hall. His arms are so tight around my ribs that I can’t breathe. We crash into a sideboard, and something else falls and breaks. He doesn’t let go of me until we’re outside. I turn on my heel, ready to march back into the house.

“Mr. Beaufort, you have to stop,” Percy says, grabbing me by the shoulders. I push his hands away and shove him in the chest.

“Out of the way, Percy.”

“No.” His voice is firm, and his fingers dig deep into the fabric of my jacket.

“He kept it a secret from us.Youkept it a secret from us,” I gasp. I push him again. “My mother is dead, and you didn’t tell me.” The words feel like acid, and suddenly, the burning is everywhere: in my mouth, my throat, my chest, and my eyes. My vision blurs.

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