‘Fine!’ Michael retorted curtly. The rest of the descent was spent in silence, the echo of their boots thudding off the steps the only sound. Pushing open the door the friends halted, blinded by the glaring sun. ‘Have fun tomorrow,’ Toby said to Michael, shielding his eyes. ‘I will. I’ll ring Asha’ he grinned, leaving. ‘Michael!’ John called. Michael stopped, bracing himself for the oncoming lecture. ‘What?’ he asked. ‘Just… be careful. All this will eventually take its toll. Someone will get hurt.’ John said. Ignoring the stark truth Michael carried on. The door swung open as Michael barrelled his way into his house. ‘Michael?’ a woman called, warily making her way towards him. ‘Not now, Mum!’ Michael complained, shouldering past her. ‘There’s dinner in the oven,’ she said timidly. ‘Not hungry,’ he mumbled, going to his bedroom. ‘We need to talk,’ his mother replied, following him. ‘No. We don’t,’ Michael said, slamming his door shut. ‘Michael,’ his mother tried again. ‘Shut up and GO AWAY!’ he yelled, grabbing his baseball. The sound of his mother’s ragged sobs echoed through his door. He could picture her, standing there, tears flooding down her cheeks. The sobs decreased as she moved away from the door. Michael hurled the baseball at the wall, rubbing his head with his hands. All the shouting had made his headache worse, causing his eyesight to blur. Shakily he lay down, squinting out the light streaming from the cracked window. He resisted the urge to throw up, staring at the ceiling to focus. The restricting cage of pain ensnared his
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