Broken Strings

My Hero

The train ride passed with little words exchanged between Peter and I. I slept most the journey, enjoying the muffled rumbling of the engine. I awoke to an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I’d asked Peter to take a sip of my hot chocolate and he too agreed there was something not quite right. My stomach settled after a blurred few hours of sitting upright and Peter had ordered a few dry biscuits, ensuring I have something solid in my stomach. Peter had brought up the subject of his family a few hours ago but quickly brushed it away soon after. The conductor emerged earlier stating that we had just an hour until we reached our destination. That was probably close to forty-five minutes ago.

“We should be there soon,” Peter opened his eyes startling me.

“Gee!” I gasped, “I thought you were asleep.”

“Just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Everything,” Peter paused, “I was thinking about Mum.” I knew it. He was close with his Mother. I realised now that if there was one thing calling him home it was his Mother.

“You miss her.”

“Yeah, but I don’t miss him,” he began, “I just pray that he hasn’t hurt her.”

“If he’s a decent man he won’t hurt your Mother,” I stated hoping to God I was right.

“That’s the problem. My Father isn’t decent.” The train began to squeal and screech as it came to a stop. The heat had become almost unbearable.

“You have to do it Peter. You have to contact your Mother otherwise this thought is going to eat you alive.” I could tell Peter knew it. I could tell he trusted me and would call his Mother.

The passengers trail off the train one by one. Kids I didn’t realise were boarded pushed passed one another huffing and heaving their small figures through the legs of the adults.

“Excited little buggers aren’t they?” an older man chuckled, walking passed Peter and me.

“You could say that,” Peter replies politely.

A fierce wave of heat washes over my body as Peter and I jump from the last step. “Good thing the resort has a pool,” Peter gasped. The pool! I’d almost forgotten.

“Are we nearly there?”

“I was thinking we could walk, it isn’t far. But in this heat maybe you want to catch a bus or-”

“Its fine, we can walk.” I poke my finger into Peter’s side making his body convulse. “So your ticklish?”

“Ticklish? No.” I knew he was lying, his face said it all.

“It’s just at the end of this street,” Peter said pointing down a road that seemed to go on forever. There was silence between us for a few minutes before Peter said what we were both thinking, “So are you going to contact your parents?”

“I don’t know?” I hadn’t checked my mobile in days. “Do you think I should?”

“I can’t make that decision, only you can,” he whispered.

“I know.” I pulled my backpack around to the front of my body. Rifling through my pack I pull out my mobile, dreading what I will find I unlock it.

“Anything?”

“One new message,” I couldn’t decipher what I felt in that moment. I was happy to see that maybe I was wrong about my Mother but nervous for the same exact reason. I was happy, I don’t want to go home.