“Well, what do you think?” Yvonne asked with a smile as she stuck her head out of her brand-new car and honked the horn. Well, it wasn’t brand new. It was a second-hand Volkswagen but in pretty good nick. She collected it from the lot this morning, and I’d come down to the front of the flats to check it out.

“Pretty snazzy,” I said and grinned.

“Come on, jump in and we’ll go for a drive.”

I opened the passenger side door without hesitation and slid into the seat before securing my seatbelt. It was a mild morning, tendrils of pretty sunlight streaming through the windows as we left the flats behind us.

“This is so great. We should go on a road trip down the country some weekend.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she agreed just as my phone rang. It was Dylan. I hit ‘answer’ and held it up to my ear, thinking he and Sam had probably just finished their run in the park.

“Dylan! You’ll never guess what me and Yvonne are—”

“Ev,” he choked. “Come quickly . . . I think Sam’s—”

“What’s wrong?” My stomach tightened instantly at the pained rasp in his voice.

“I’ve called an ambulance, but they haven’t arrived yet. Jesus Christ, I can’t feel his pulse, I can’t feel his pulse,” Dylan rambled chaotically, and I felt like I was being submerged under water. His words spread terror right through my body.

Then, something inside of me swallowed up all the panic and jumped into action. “Where are you?” I had no idea what was going on or what had happened. All I knew was I had to get to him as quickly as possible.

“We’re j-just in front of the Wellington Monument. Please h-hurry.”

Yvonne glanced from me to the road in concern. “What’s wrong, Ev?”

To Dylan, I said, “We’ll be there in five minutes,” and then I told Yvonne where to go. She drove like a pro, avoiding all the heavy traffic areas so we could get to them faster. She didn’t ask any questions, probably sensing my trepidation. I kept blinking, willing myself to wake up from this nightmare. A million possible scenarios ran through my head, all of them horrific.

As soon as we got to the park, I jumped out of the car and ran straight for the monument. Yvonne called after me, but I didn’t look back. Every part of me felt heavy as I pushed forward. There was something in Dylan’s voice, a fearfulness I’d never heard before, that filled me up with dread.

I saw a few people gathered around and without thinking headed in that direction. In the distance, I heard ambulance sirens, but they were a way off yet. I broke through the people and gasped at what I saw. Dylan sat on the ground with Sam in his arms. He looked so . . . small. Both of them were beaten to a pulp and tears filled my eyes.

I fell onto the grass beside Dylan, hands moving over him in panic. “What happened?” My throat was heavy with emotion. It was just so wrong to see them both like this. They were two of the people I loved most in the world. Dylan was in such a daze he didn’t even register my presence. He just rocked Sam back and forth as though willing him to open his eyes.

And Sam. My God. I could barely stand to look at him. There was a lesion above his eye that leaked blood all over his face, and the rest of him . . . the rest of him . . .

Yvonne let out a cry of shock when she finally caught up. Tears streamed down her cheeks as one of the onlookers approached. “I was sitting in my car when it happened,” the man said, sounding shaken. “They were jogging, and a gang of teens ran out from behind the monument and attacked them. I called for help, but nobody’s arrived yet. They were all wearing hoodies, so it was hard to make out their faces . . .”

I barely took in his words, too much shock in my system. I had my arms around Dylan, who still wouldn’t let go of Sam. He held his small, battered body like he was terrified to let go. A terrible reality pushed at the edges of my brain, but I refused to acknowledge it.

The sirens blared as both the ambulance and the police arrived on the scene. Yvonne pulled me away from Dylan so that the paramedics could see to him and Sam. She wrapped her arms around me and whispered soothing noises in my ear.

I wanted to rage and scream.

I wanted to get whoever had done this and do the same to them.

I’d never felt so helpless, so enraged, and so heartbroken all at once. This can’t be real. It can’t be happening. Yvonne guided me over to her car, and we drove to the hospital in stunned silence. Once there, she called Dylan’s dad and Sam’s parents, doing her best to calmly relay for them what had happened. Both parties arrived at A&E in full panic, but nobody would tell us anything. Sam’s mother was inconsolable. Nothing like this had ever happened to any of her children before. She just cried and cried, while her husband tried his best to soothe her.

We were told to stay in the waiting area until a doctor came out. About thirty minutes later, a female doctor came and informed Dylan’s dad of his son’s injuries. I listened intently, barely breathing, as she relayed the information: cracked ribs, a fractured nose and elbow, a concussion. With all that, I was surprised he was still conscious when I’d arrived at the scene. Only his dad was allowed in to see him. That would’ve frustrated me more if I wasn’t still waiting with bated breath for news of Sam.

Hope was the only thing that kept me going, and every second that passed was a new agony. I kept hearing Dylan’s words in my head.

I can’t feel his pulse.

And the way he’d looked in Dylan’s arms, so tiny and battered. A whirlwind of pain swept through me.

Finally, a doctor emerged, and as soon as I saw his face, I knew. Sam’s mother let out an agonised wail. His dad held her tight, but there were tears in his eyes, too.

And I, well, as soon as I heard the words, “Mrs Kennedy, Mr Kennedy, I’m so sorry . . .” something inside of me died. My candle, which had once burned bright, flickered out, leaving nothing but darkness.

My Sam was gone, and I would never, ever recover.