Page 150 of The Grosvenor's Ghost
I got out of the bed, my feet hit the wood floor and it felt colder than usual. The sun was rising, slowly, almost like it didn’t want to. Fumbled for my clothes, managed to get them on and then I fished out a baggie from my pocket and racked up a line on the back of my hand.
Instantly, as you do when you take cocaine, I felt alive. A million bolts of electricity racing through my blood, straight to my heart. I felt alright again—like I could breathe.
There were voices coming from downstairs, quiet but still there. We had a party. Phoebe threw a party to celebrate the end of the school year.
I think I went to go and find her. I’m sure that’s why I went downstairs. She was nowhere to be found. The house was almost empty and it felt a lot like I was still asleep but I wasn’t tired. I needed to move, to do something. I couldn’t just sit and be still and wait for her to come to me.
I’d taken a lot of cocaine that night. More than usual—and I know that isn’t an excuse but it’s a reason. None of this would have happened if I was sober because if I was, I would’ve been tucked up in bed, next to Phoebe as the sun hesitantly glowed. You know, I wouldn’t have been wandering the house, looking for something to do.
Jude ran into me in the entryway, by the stairs. I was happy to see him. I knew we could do something together because he was always on the same level as me. None of my other friends were.
He dangled car keys in front of me.
Told me someone from the party had left their car here.
We went out to the front of the house to see it parked on the drive. A bright red, Ferrari GTO with a private number plate. I didn’t know who it belonged to but even if I did, I don’t think that would’ve stopped me.
Jude opened the driver's side door, got in. I sat in the passenger seat, my legs shaking, my hands trembling, my heart racing.
He was on cocaine, too—me and him had taken a lot that night, like I said.
Phoebe’s house backs onto country lanes, a series of these tiny, narrow, dark lanes crowded by bushes and trees. Even in broad daylight, you could barely see what was in front of you.
I remember Jude going fast, over a hundred, down these lanes. We took turns taking the wheel, fucking about with the power of it.
A second later, it was over.
Everything went black.
And then my eyes opened again but I still hadn’t realised what just happened. Doctors said I should’ve been glad to have been on so much coke, otherwise I would’ve really been hurt—in a coma or something. My body didn’t tighten up, brace itself for the impact so I didn’t feel anything. I thought I was fine.
I tried to move, get out of the car but I couldn’t. I reached up to touch my face, my finger got pricked on something, I pulled it and pulled it until a shard of glass was in my hand. I don’t remember panicking or worrying or being in pain.
Despite the fact I couldn’t see straight anyway, it was too dark. There are no street lights down country lanes.
I looked over at Jude, he was slumped over the airbag at the wheel and I thought he was dead and that I didn’t feel anything about it. And then I think I scared myself with the fact that I didn’t care if he was dead or not. This was probably when it started sinking in.
The windshield was caved in, there was glass all around us. My door was jammed, I had no idea what position we were in but I knew I had to get out of there so I climbed through the windshield. Cut myself up, doing that, my legs, arms, face, were covered in glass.
I shouted Jude’s name but he didn’t move.
He was dead, I had just killed him. Fuck, I thought, was I dead too? We’d crashed and now I was dead?
I stared at the front of the car that was now battered and wondered how it’d happened when just a few minutes before, we were on fucking cloud nine.
And that’s when I saw the car behind.
I don’t remember the make or model of it, just that it was there, pushed up against the car I was just in, almost one with it.
Screamed Jude’s name again but nothing.
I started to panic.
I was so caught up in what had just happened that I didn’t even clock that my wrist was broken or that I was bleeding from my head and had a mild concussion.
My eyes were locked on Jude’s and after a few minutes, his head slowly started to rise. He looked around, spotted me and then frowned. I ran over, pulled him through the windshield.
He was more hurt than me, I think. He couldn’t stand up. His entire body was leaning on me whilst I figured out what to do. I knew we had to do something but I was so out of my depth.
