Page 65 of Dying Truth
‘No more than a couple of minutes,’ he said, staring down at the body. ‘But they would have been the most horrific and frightening couple of minutes you could imagine.’
And Keats had lived every second of them with this poor child, she thought, as the tip of her fingers found the boy’s soft cheek. There was an instinct inside her that wanted to offer this child comfort for the fear and pain he had suffered.
During her last major case, she had been held down and choked almost to unconsciousness. She swallowed, still able to recall the feeling of panic that had screamed throughout her body and mind as she’d struggled to get air into her lungs.
And this was a fourteen-year-old boy.
She shook away the memory.
‘Keats, how long would this have happened after ingesting the nuts?’
Keats shrugged. ‘Most food-related symptoms occur within two hours of ingestion, but severe cases start within minutes. Given this boy’s history and the circumstances the onset would have been almost immediate.’
Kim frowned. ‘What circumstances? This happened at the end of his gym lesson. It would have been at least an hour before that he could have accidentally eaten—’
‘Sorry to interrupt you, Inspector, but this was no accidental ingestion from a trace of nut products.’
‘But the kid knew of his condition. His epinephrine was in his gym bag.’
‘Exactly my point,’ Keats said, placing an X-ray on the light board.
‘This is the boy’s throat,’ he said, pointing. ‘And those two objects are whole peanuts.’
Kim glanced at Bryant as she made sense of the pathologist’s words.
Someone had force-fed nuts into this poor kid’s mouth.
Forty-Four
28February2018
Hey Diary,
I got back to school just two hours ago and half of that time I’ve spent hidden in the toilets.
Always the same cubicle. The one furthest away from the door. I’m silent when I’m in there despite the tears that fall from my eyes.
My hand trembled as I used the razor blade to make the first cut. It’s simple, perfect beauty sliced through the skin. The calmness hit me instantly. I wondered if it was how a heroin addict felt when taking a hit. The relief, the release. The feeling of inner peace.
I sat back against the cistern with my eyes closed, my mind blank and calm, my breathing deep and even, totally relaxed.
Two more and I was ready to face the world.
As I walked back to my dorm, I could feel the fresh cuts rubbing deliciously against the skin of my inner thigh despite the sterile plaster.
But the peace inside was fleeting.
All too soon the memories of home returned; the hushed conversations that stopped completely when I walked into the room. The three of them looking away unable to face me. My feelings of being a stranger in my own home. My mother spending hours in Saffie’s room. My father making secret phone calls that he claimed were for work.
I tried to talk to my mother. I tried to explain.
‘Not now, Sadie,’ she said. ‘Don’t bother me with this right now.’
So I slunk back into the shadows and watched until it was time to come back. Just waiting for the chance to get into my cubicle at the end of the row.
But the hungry demons have not been quieted. The feelings are worse than ever.
I don’t know how to shut them up and then I remember what I’ve been told and I pop the pill right into my mouth.
