Survival (Twisted Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

middle, but I quickly looked away from it as the blade of grief twisted in my chest. There was a group of punchbags hanging from the ceiling on one side and some weight-lifting and training equipment on the other. I could feel Oliver; his presence was absorbed into the eggshell paint on the walls and it enveloped me in longing.
    “We all feel him,” Curtis said noting my reaction, and led me towards the far end of the gym. “It’s like he’s still here. I haven’t been able to train since - but I feel him.”
    “He liked it here?”
    “Loved it,” he unlocked another door and we stepped into a hallway. “This place is like a second home to most of the boys. Geoff looks after us.”
    “I’m glad he was happy here.”
    We climbed a staircase and stepped onto an open living area. It was small and dark and smelled of Curtis. I never noticed he had a smell before, but I noticed it then. It was comforting.
    “I wish he would have brought you here.”
    “Why? I can’t fight.”
    He took two bottles of water out of the fridge and handed one to me.
    “You wouldn’t have to. But you could have escaped, too,” he gave me a sorrowful once over. “Wait here.”
    He disappeared into a room and came back minutes later with some clothes. He had changed into a pair of lounge trousers and a t-shirt and handed me a pile of similar things.
    “You can change in the bathroom,” he pointed to another door. “I’ll dry your clothes.”
     
    “Will you tell me a story?”
    We were sitting in silence on his worn brown leather sofa, listening to the whirring of the dryer.
    “What kind of story?”
    “Any kind. I just want to hear your voice.”
    I didn’t think I needed a friend, but I did. I could talk to Curtis and know he understood. I didn’t have to tell him about my life, he already knew. I didn’t have to pretend everything was okay because he knew it wasn’t. He shared my pain. He loved Oliver too.
    “Once upon a time,” he started and shifted closer, “there was a boy. He was a happy boy. He played football on Saturdays and his father always told him he would be a star. His favourite dinner was sausages and mash. His mother cooked it for him before she went out with his father. It was their anniversary and the lady next door came over to build jigsaws with the boy and put him to bed. The boy was five and he loved the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
    “They built the puzzle and the lady tucked him up in bed and read him a story. The boy fell asleep and dreamed of the porridge his mummy would make him for breakfast, but the lady was still there when he woke up. She made him toast with strawberry jam. He didn’t like jam, he liked porridge and honey. The lady looked sad so the boy ate his toast and sat on the sofa with her to watch TV.”
    I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder. I heard the pain in his voice and my heart broke for him.
    “The boy’s mummy and daddy never came home. Their car broke on the way back and the angels took them to keep them safe.”
    “Curtis.”
    “ Shh,” he looked into my eyes and stroked his thumb over my chin. “Just listen.”
    I pursed my lips and he continued.
    “He stayed with his aunt for a while but he wasn’t nice to her. He didn’t want an aunt-mummy, he wanted his mummy. As he got older, he got angrier. He didn’t understand why his friends had their parents and he didn’t. He used to fight, but he would lose because he couldn’t control his anger.”
    He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me closer as I cried and his grief became palpable. As it swirled around us, our connection deepened and we shared the pain. We shared the relief of having each other.
    “One day, when he was fifteen, his aunt packed his things in a bag and drove him to a little building on the outskirts of town. He met Geoff. Geoff was short and fat and had a weird cockney accent. He took the boy’s bag and led him upstairs. He showed him a little flat and told the boy he