Page 53 of Crashing Into You

“What if she’s not there?” Mum’s voice cracks.

“She’ll be there,” I say, wanting to reassure myself as much as Mum. “We’ll knock on the door, go in and see how she is. I’m sure it’s fine.”

I’m not sure at all.

If she’s back with her ex, I need to be ready for whatever is waiting for us at Millie’s place. I’m here to protect Mum, and her. But I keep my worries to myself as we pull up outside the apartment. It’s in a small block, only four apartments in the building dating back to the 1930s: two on the ground floor, each with its own small walled garden, and two on the first floor either side of a flight of stairs. Millie has one of the ground floor flats. Mum bought it years ago, before prices really started to go mad in Melbourne. It’s worth a fortune now, but she won’t sell it. It’s much more important that Millie has a home.

We get out of the car and head for the door set beneath the landing connecting the two upstairs apartments. There’s a doorknocker in the shape of a sparkly unicorn head hanging from the door. Typical Millie. I bang it, three times. And I brace myself.

After a few moments there’s the sound of a chain rattling and the door opens a crack, releasing a waft of stale food smell. I glimpse brown eyes, a thatch of unkempt dark hair. And I throw myself at the door, putting my shoulder into it so it flies open before he can latch it shut again.

Marco, Millie’s scum-sucking drug-dealing violent bastard of an ex-boyfriend staggers back, banging into the wall.

“Get the fuck out,” he says, pushing off the wall. But he’s high, I can tell by the pinned eyeballs and the way he’s swaying slightly. I grab him by the throat, pushing him back against the wall.

“Just a friendly visit, Marco.” I spit the words in his face, slamming him into the wall again. I want to kill him, but I need to find Millie first.

“You can’t just barge your way in here.”

“I fucking can. My mum owns this place, in case you’ve forgotten. Besides, I didn’t barge in. Just tripped a bit on the threshold. Now, where is my sister?”

A cry comes from the next room. Mum. I slam Marco against the wall one more time, then release him, leaving him to slide down it like the pile of shit he is. I head into the living room. Fucking hell.

Millie’s decorating style has always tended towards the pink and sparkly, like the unicorn door knocker. Marco trashed all her old stuff, so it was nice to take her out and buy new things for her, setting her up in the apartment again once it had been cleaned and redecorated. The last time I visited it had been fresh and tidy, pink roses in a vase on the windowsill.

Now it looks like a hurricane has gone through the place. Hurricane fucking Marco. The vase on the windowsill is tipped over, the flowers in it dead. Pizza boxes are strewn across the room, food trodden into the carpet, the vintage embroidered tablecloth on the table by the window tattered. There are needles in the corners, scattered among the rubbish, dropped on the now-filthy pink sofa. But the worst thing, the absolute worst fucking thing of all, is the slumped form of my sister, curled up against the old fireplace as though she’s just more rubbish, used and discarded by her piece-of-shit boyfriend.

Mum is on her knees next to Millie. She’s crying, but she takes her pulse, rolling her gently into the recovery position. “Call an ambulance.” She bites out the words, as though she’s holding back a scream. I feel like screaming myself, roaring with rage. But I need to focus. I dial 000 and wait to be patched through.

“Ambulance. Suspected overdose,” I hear myself saying. It’s like I’m detaching from the situation, like it’s happening to someone else. I can’t lose my baby sister, not like this. I listen to the dispatcher, answering their questions before hanging up.

“They’ll be here soon,” I say. “Is she… Is she still…?”

“She’s breathing.” Mum’s face is ravaged, older than her years when she looks up at me. “For now.”

Something hits me, knocking me sideways. Mum cries out, throwing herself across Millie, protecting her with her body. I right myself quickly, muscles honed by years of balancing on a surfboard coming into play. Marco, staggering, swings at me. I want to break his neck. But I satisfy myself with a sharp punch to his jaw. His head goes back and he drops like a puppet with its strings cut, landing in an untidy heap.

“Bryce!”

“I know, Mum. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” My knuckles are throbbing, but it was fucking worth it. I’m not sorry at all.

Mum gets to her feet and comes over to Marco. I think she’s going to help him but instead she draws her foot back and kicks him, hard, in the ribs. My jaw drops. She glances at me. “I tripped,” she says, shrugging.

Despite how shitty this is, I almost laugh. Fucking Mum. What a legend.

Millie moans, her body jerking. Mum rushes back to her side, smoothing her dyed pink hair back from her brow. She lapses into unconsciousness again.

There’s a knock at the door, then a bang as the paramedics come in. Then everything kind of blurs. The medics get to work straight away, injecting Millie with something, getting her onto a stretcher. Mum is crying again. I can’t bear to watch, pain sharp in my chest, so I busy myself trying to tidy up, grabbing a rubbish bag from the filthy kitchen and starting to bag up the pizza boxes.

“Leave it, mate.” One of the paramedics, kneeling next to Marco, holds out his hand. “You don’t want a needle stick. What happened to this bloke?”

“He ran into my fist.”

The medic glances at me, then at Millie.

“She’s my sister.”

He nods. “Fair call. I’ll get another ambulance so they can be kept apart.”