When Dad walked out, Nate was devastated. Mum would hardly say anything and, even though Phoebe was upset, I guess she was too young to feel it properly. Saul was the one who held us all together. But sometimes, when I’d be making my way up to my room at night, I’d hear Saul crying in the bathroom, and running the tap to drown out the sound of his tears.

I think everyone must be asleep by the time I get home. I stayed at Kyle’s till pretty late cause I didn’t wanna come back and face everyone. But, when I go into my room, Saul’s sitting there, hunched over at the end of my bed.

‘Is there no privacy in this house?’ I say.

‘Mum’s gone bed,’ he says. ‘I told her I’d wait up till you got back.’

I shrug. ‘Well, I’m back. You can go now.’

Saul shakes his head, but he doesn’t move. ‘You’re so angry all the time,’ he says. ‘That’s wot I used to be like.’ He pauses. ‘You need to do summat with that hand. At least let me clean it up. Or you could wait for it to get infected.’ He shrugs. ‘Choice is yours. Ain’t my hand.’

I sit down on the bed. I’m too tired to argue back and he’s right – it does look a right mess.

‘Fine,’ I say.

Saul gets up and leaves the room. I hear the sound of the bathroom cupboard opening, then he comes back with a first-aid kit. It’s gotta be about a hundred years old, and I’m surprised there’s anything still in it. He pulls out an antiseptic wipe and I try not to wince too much in pain as he cleans up some of the blood.

‘Ow, man,’ I say. My hand feels like it’s on fire. ‘You ain’t even checked that they’re in date.’

‘It ain’t gonna kill ya,’ he says. He dashes the wipe at my bin, but it hits the side and lands on the floor. ‘You gonna tell me wot happened?’ he asks, wrapping my hand up in a bit of bandage.

I shrug. ‘Punched a wall,’ I say.

‘Fuck’s sake, Nate,’ he says. ‘Punching shit doesn’t solve anything. Trust me, I’ve done it enough times to know.’

He ties the bandage near my thumb and I feel bad for wot I said earlier. And for the way that I spoke to Phoebe and Mum.

‘Thanks, yeah?’ I say.

Saul shrugs. ‘You can be a right tool sometimes, but you’re still my brother. I love you and I’m gonna look out for you, no matter what.’ He moves over on my bed, and stares up at the ceiling. ‘I know you think I don’t care about Al cause of how I’ve been acting. But just cause I’ve tried to carry on it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss him, too.’ Saul pauses. ‘It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. Knowing that my little brother is gone and that I couldn’t even look after him . . .’ Saul turns to me. ‘There’s more than one way to grieve for someone, Nate. We’re all missing Al in our own way.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. ‘I shouldn’t have gone off at you earlier.’

‘When Dad left us, I had to be the one to pick up the pieces. The one to make sure the electric didn’t get cut off. That Mum had enough money to put food in the fridge.’ He shrugs. ‘So since then that’s how I’ve always tried to be. Stable and brave, but trust me I’ve cried myself to sleep about Al a load of times.’

I don’t know why it shocks me. Maybe cause Saul’s always been the one to hold us all together.

‘You have?’ I say.

Saul gives me a weird look. ‘I am human, Nate. D’you think I’m just some walking lump with no feelings?’

‘Well . . .’ I say. ‘Walking muscle with no feelings maybe.’

Saul laughs and puts his arm round me. ‘Flipping cheek,’ he says.

We sit there for a minute, and maybe I shouldn’t say anything, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Sophie.

‘You know, Al had a girlfriend and that?’ I say.

Saul looks surprised. ‘He never said . . .’

‘I sent her a message on Facebook cause wot if she ain’t heard?’

Saul breathes out slowly. ‘Nate,’ he says, ‘I really think we should all try and move on. Just get through this the best we can. You can’t keep going over the past. Trust me, it doesn’t help.’ He stands up. ‘You should at least think about what Mum said. Talking to someone. There ain’t nothing wrong with it.’

‘All right,’ I say. ‘I’ll think about it.’

But it’s a lie. I don’t wanna go over wot happened with Al . . . I don’t see how talking about feelings will help anything.

‘Try and get some sleep.’ Saul pauses. ‘Love ya, mate,’ he says.

It seems weird cause we don’t say it a lot, but I don’t want Saul to think I don’t care. And he’s already said it twice. And maybe if I would’ve told Al that I loved him more then he’d have opened up to me . . .

‘Love ya, you meat head,’ I say.

Saul laughs. ‘We really getting into this again? Cause y’know you don’t want me to start on them ears . . . Night,’ he says, then he closes my bedroom door.

I put on some old jogging bottoms and a T-shirt and climb into bed. I feel like I’m a little kid again. Nothing makes sense any more and I feel scared . . . scared of everything. Scared of wot it’s like to die. Scared that I might never find out wot happened to Al. Scared that none of this will ever stop hurting. I know everyone else thinks I should let it go, but I can’t move on, not till I’ve figured out why.

I look on Facebook on my phone again to see if Sophie’s accepted my friend request, but still nothing. I open up Messenger to check there, but her profile picture is grey. There’s just an outline and the words Facebook User. I stare down at where Sophie’s picture should be – her face smiling at the camera, and her hair twisted into a loose plait. She’s deactivated her account. But why?