Chapter Text
Mason Radcliffe leaned against the wall next to the double doors of Weatherfield High. He rested one foot against the brick while he composed yet another text to Liam, this one of Liam's face superimposed onto a rat's body.
'Ratboy Liam' he typed before hitting send. As usual, he got no answer, and he shook his head. Very rude indeed. But then, that was typical of a rat. 'Your gonna get whats coming to u'.
He looked up and saw Dylan headed towards him.
“Alright, mate?” Mason sent one more text to Liam, before putting his phone in his pocket.
“Alright,” Dylan replied, leaning on the wall next to him.
“You heard from Rat Boy today?” he asked, and Dylan shook his head. “Good. He better keep his mouth shut if he knows what's good for him.”
“Yeah,” was all Dylan said. He made to go inside, but was stopped by Mason.
“That's three times he's grassed me up now! I tell you what, mate, he needs to be taught a lesson; show him what we do to grasses.”
“Yeah,” Dylan repeated.
“So, you in, then?” Mason asked, and Dylan looked at him.
“What?”
A nasty smile crossed Mason's face and he leaned forward.
“We're gonna teach him a lesson. You in, yeah?”
Dylan nodded after a moment's hesitation. “Yeah, I'm in.”
“Good lad.” Mason clapped him on the shoulder, his grin growing wider. “Right, so meet us outside his place tonight, about seven, yeah?”
“I'll try,” said Dylan, as the bell rang, and he again tried to head inside. Mason put his arm out, preventing him from going any further.
“You'll try? You don't wanna teach that little rat who's boss?”
“No, 'course I do. It's my dad. If I'm out too late, he'll -”
“Look, don't worry about your dad. I've got it all sorted, all right? Just tell him you're comin' to mine.”
“All right, I will.”
That was good enough for Mason, and the two of them began walking into the building.
By the time lunch break had rolled around, Mason had already convinced his gang, Henry, Mike, and Luke to join in on whatever he had planned, and all three had readily agreed.
Dylan kept quiet throughout lunch, bar the occasional 'yeah' and 'mm-hm' whenever Mason directed a question at him.
Mason was keeping quiet on what was going to happen that evening, but Dylan had a sinking feeling it wasn't going to be good. But what could he do, though? If he told anyone, Mason would know it was him. He thought about warning Liam, but he wasn't sure if he should. One, Mason could possibly see the texts, and then Dylan would be done for. Two, there was no guarantee that Liam would even believe him.
“Right, lads, I'll see you all tonight.” Mason's voice jolted Dylan from his thoughts. He lowered his voice, “ don't be late, yeah?”
When the boys nodded, he stood, and swung his backpack over his shoulder.
“What are you gonna do to him?” asked Dylan, also standing.
Mason smiled again, an evil grin that sent shivers up Dylan's spine.
“You'll see,” was all he said, before heading down the hall.
Dylan hesitated for a moment, before following, dreading what was to come later that night.
He soon found himself with the gang that evening, crouched around a corner to the entrance of Victoria Court. He bit his lip nervously, but kept quiet.
A big part of him wanted his father to insist he stay home that night, to play board games, to watch a film, anything, just so he could say to Mason that he couldn't join them, but it hadn't happened.
On the other hand, getting on Mason's bad side was the last thing he wanted to do. The kid had a knife; what was he supposed to do? In his mind, Dylan was choosing the lesser of two evils.
Mason was at the front, his face set as he fixed his eyes on the front door.
“How do you know he'll come out?” whispered Henry.
“It's bin day tomorrow, innit?” Mason replied, still staring at the door. “Mummy's Boy will be out any moment now.” He knew taking the bins out would be just the sort of goody-two-shoes thing that Liam would do.
“How we getting him there again?” asked Luke.
“Called in a favour. You'll understand,” was all Mason said.
He straightened up, and turned to his friends. “You remember what you have to do, yeah?” he asked, and they all nodded. “Right, get ready, then. And remember, don't make a sound; we don't want anyone hearing.” He faced the door once again, and prepared himself. He felt the blade in his pocket, and his eyes burned with hatred.
He would show that rat.
About fifteen minutes later, as predicted, Liam came out of the door, head down, and dragging two black sacks behind him. He looked nervously left and right before heading over to the skip at the back of the complex.
The moment his back was turned, Mason gestured for the others to follow him, pressing a finger to his lips. Silently, stealthily, they crept up behind Liam as he put the bags in the skip, and, when Mason nodded, Henry and Mike grabbed him, and he began to struggle.
Before Liam could make a sound, Mike covered his mouth, and Henry pinned his arms behind his back. It didn't take much to keep the smaller boy restrained, especially now that he was outnumbered.
Luke grabbed his legs, and they began to drag Liam away from the flats. The boy was wriggling, and twisting, and struggling, but it was no use. His muffled cries for help went unheard as the boys anxiously looked around them to make sure they weren't being watched. To their relief, they saw no one.
Feeling a shove in his back, Dylan hesitantly placed a cloth sack over Liam's head, and looked behind him to see Mason sitting behind the wheel of a car.
“Chuck him in back!” he hissed, starting the engine. The boys threw Liam into the boot, and quickly climbed into the car, barely having time to shut the doors before Mason peeled away.
He laughed out loud as they tore away from the streets, and cheered. “What did I tell ya?” he said, looking at his friends in the rear view mirror. “Told ya he'd come out!”
Mike, Henry, and Luke were laughing and high-fiving each other, but Dylan, sat in the passenger seat, kept quiet.
Mason turned on the radio, cranking up the volume, and the thudding that came from the boot could no longer be heard.
Pulling up outside a derelict, abandoned building on the outskirts of Weatherfield, the boys got out, and opened the boot. Liam had removed the sack from his head, and was curled up in the foetal position, looking up at them with terror in his eyes. “Well, well, well,” said Mason, “look who it is. Haven't seen ya for ages, Liam. Think it's time we had a little catch up.”
He reached into the boot, and dragged Liam out by his arm, causing the boy's legs to buckle beneath him.
Mason pulled him over to the building, and shoved Liam inside, causing him to fall. Once the others had entered, he locked the door.
The building, which appeared similar to a small barn, was old and dilapidated. Faded graffiti decorated the walls, and rotting beams littered the floor. There was a window covered by a ragged, tattered curtain to their left, and a set of wonky, rickety stairs to their right.
A wooden table was pushed up against one wall, and a broken chair lay forlornly beside it.
Liam had pushed himself up against the back wall. He cowered as the gang surrounded him. Despite the fear swirling in his stomach, he tried to remain calm, though it was easier said that done.
“Look,” he said, fighting to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I don't want any trouble, okay? I won't say anything to anyone, I promise.”
“Tell 'em what?” asked Mason, and Liam could not answer. “That sounds like the kind of thing a grass would say.”
“Please let me go,” he begged, not daring to lift his head. “Please.”
“You wanna go?” asked Mason, and Liam nodded desperately. “Why? We just wanna have a chat, don't we lads?” He turned to look at his friends, who all nodded, laughing.
“I don't wanna chat. I just wanna leave.” Liam tried to step forward, but Mason pushed him back.
“I don't think so,” he said. “'Cause you're a little grass, ain't ya? And you know what we do to grasses 'round here.”
“No, please! I didn't tell anyone, I swear!” Liam wiped the tears from his eyes with shaking hands.
“Oh, I think you did.” Mason took a step closer to Liam, and the boy cowered even more. “I think it was you who told the police. And your teachers. And your mummy. Wasn't it? Wasn't it, rat?!”
“No!” Liam shook his head, feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest at any moment.
Mason glared at him, before punching Liam in the face, knocking him to the ground. The other boys laughed as Liam lay there on the dusty floor, one hand covering this throbbing cheek. Mason then kicked him in the stomach, laughing as the boys pulled out their phones and began recording.
Dylan had not taken his phone out. Instead, he was staring at Liam, who had curled up into a ball, his hands protecting his head and face. In between his sobs, he could be heard begging to be released. It wasn't easy to watch, so Dylan only averted his gaze, occasionally wincing at the beating sounds.
Mason saw Liam reaching into his pocket, and quickly bent down. He stuck his hand into Liam's hoodie, and pulled out his phone, holding it aloft.
“What were you gonna do with this?” he asked, his voice low and menacing.
“N-nothing,” Liam stuttered, still lying on the floor.
“So, you're a grass, a rat, and a liar,” said Mason. “You were gonna call someone, weren't ya?”
“No!” cried Liam, and Mason tutted.
“Lying again? Oh, Liam, what are we gonna do with you? Lying can get you in trouble, you know.”
“I wasn't lying,” Liam insisted.
“What were you doing with your phone, then?!” Mason shouted, causing everyone to jump, and Liam curled into an even tighter ball, if that was possible. “Go on, tell me!”
Liam could only shake his head, still crying. “You're a dirty little rat, and I'm gonna put this where it belongs; down the drain, where the rest of the rats live.”
“No, please, don't,” said Liam, but Mason had already gone outside, where he disposed of Liam's phone down a nearby drain.
When he came back inside, Liam was slowly getting to his feet, and he walked right up to the boy.
“Do ya remember what I told ya? Snitches get stitches. You've snitched on us. Again.”
“Please let me go,” Liam pleaded, and Mason laughed at him.
“Go? Where you gonna go?”
“I just wanna go home.”
Mason pretended to think about it. He mockingly placed a finger on his chin, humming thoughtfully.
“Nah. I don't think so. See, I don't appreciate being searched the police! You're gonna pay for that!”
Fighting every urge in his body, Dylan opened his mouth.
“Do ya think we should go now?” he suggested, trying to keep his tone light, feeling like he was making a huge mistake.
Mason whipped his head around, and Dylan immediately knew that he shouldn't have said anything. If he managed to survive the night without getting punched out, he would be very lucky. “I mean, we don't wanna look suspicious, do we?”
“Suspicious? There's no one here!” Mason snapped. “Don't you want this loser to pay?”
“Yeah, I do, but come on, mate, he'll tell, and we'll get in trouble.”
“He's not gonna tell,” said Mason confidently. He turned to Liam. “You're not gonna tell, are ya?”he asked, Liam, who was now back against the wall. The boy, sobbing and shaking, could only shake his head. Mason tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. He looked around at his friends, and then back at Liam. “You know what I think? I think our little Liam here... is a liar!” Mason screamed, his nose an inch away from Liam's. “I think the moment we let him go, he'll go crying to his mummy and daddy, like the little baby he is. Oh, that's right, you won't be crying to your daddy, will ya?” A cruel smile crossed Mason's face. “'Cos he's dead, ain't he? He walked in front of a car cos he couldn't stand the sight of ya. 'Cos he'd rather be dead than have a pathetic little loser for a son like you!”
“Please, stop!” Liam begged, yet more tears streaming down his face.
Back at the flat, Maria was just getting ready to dish up dinner, and she looked into the living-room, where Gary and Jake were playing a video game.
“Dinner's ready,” she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly when neither of them moved. “Hello? Dinner's ready.”
“Ah, there's always a few minutes before it's actually ready,” said Gary, his eyes glued to the screen.
Maria picked up the tea towel and jokingly hit him around the head with it.
“Oi! I want you both at that table in two minutes. Go on,” she added, when they still had not moved.
Gary heaved a great sigh, and stood up, stretching. “I'll just go and get Liam,” said Maria, heading to her son's bedroom. “Liam?” She knocked on the door, but got no answer, which was not unusual. “Dinner's ready.” She knocked again, and then opened the door.
He wasn't there.
For a moment, she stood in the doorway, stumped, before she stepped fully into the room, and looked around. He definitely wasn't there, but she checked under the bed and in the wardrobe just to be sure, before heading out and going to the bathroom. When Liam wasn't there either, her heart dropped into her stomach. “Gary!” She ran to the kitchen, where Jake and Gary were sat at the table. “Liam's gone!”
“What?” Gary stood immediately. “What do you mean, gone?”
“He's gone! He's not here!”
Gary pulled out his phone, and dialled Liam's number. It rung out, and he tried again. “He's not answering,” he said, worry etched all over his face. “Right, come on, we've got to go look for him.”
Maria nodded and grabbed her coat. “Jake, you stay here,” Gary ordered as he and Maria headed out the door.
“Why? I wanna help!”
“Just do as I say!” said Gary, before they left.
The moment they stepped out, they headed in opposite directions, and scoured the streets, calling Liam's name. They were hoping he was not far, perhaps at the playground, but given everything he'd been through in the last few months, they were fearing the worst. They knew he wouldn't go out on his own.
Parental instinct kicked in, and both of them knew instantly that somehow Mason had got hold of him.
Tears spilled down Maria's face as she hurried frantically through the streets, looking in every bush, every bin, every nook and cranny she could see. With every moment that passed, she grew more and more distressed.
Why had she agreed to let him take out the bins? Sure, she'd wanted him to get a little fresh air, but she should have been there with him. Why hadn't she gone out there with him? She was the worst mother ever. If anything happened to her child, she would never forgive herself.
She tried to keep her mind clear, tried to focus on nothing but finding Liam, and not what Mason could be doing to him, though to say it was difficult was the understatement of the century. Maria had to fight back bile as she continued searching the streets.
She caught sight of Gary on Viaduct Street, and ran over to him.
“Anything?” she asked, and he only shook his head, his features drawn.
“I keep trying to call him, but nothing.” Gary put his phone back in his pocket. “It's been 45 minutes,” he said, his voice tense. They both knew how serious this was.
“It's Mason. Mason's got him,” said Maria, and Gary nodded. “We need to find him!”
“We don't know where he lives, though.”
“Maybe Sean knows. His Dylan hangs around with him. Maybe he knows something. Liam could be in real danger!” Maria began crying and Gary wrapped his arms around her.
“We'll find him,” he assured her. “And that Mason will wish he'd never been born, you mark my words.”
“Right, we have to call the police,” said Maria.
Gary, looking as though he'd aged ten years, pulled out his phone, and wordlessly dialled the station.
Back at the warehouse, Mason and his friends were still surrounding a crying Liam.
“Do ya wanna go home, then?” Mason asked, and Liam nodded. Mason only stared at him. “Beg,” he said, and Liam looked up at him.
“What?”
“You heard me. Beg!”
After a slight pause, Liam lowered his head, his entire body shaking.
“Please, please let me go home.” He heard a snigger and lifted his gaze. All five of them were laughing, and Liam's cheeks burned as he saw the phones pointed at him.
“No, no, I don't believe you,” said Mason. “Do it again. Beg properly.”
More tears falling down his face, Liam clasped his hands together, and forced himself to look up at his tormentors. “Please let me go home. Please, I just want to go home,” he said. “I'm begging you,” he added after a moment. He looked Mason straight in the eye, hoping against hope that there would be some spark of humanity, a hint of compassion. But there was nothing.
“Get down on your knees and beg us not to hurt you,” was all Mason said, his face partially obscured by his phone. Having no choice, Liam did so, and repeated his pleas. Right now, his only hope was someone on the Internet seeing these videos and calling the police, because he really couldn't see a way out of this. “Oh, no, Liam, this just won't do,” said Mason. “I'm not seeing enough, ya know? Yeah, I don't think you really wanna go home, rat. Does he, lads?” He looked around at his friends, who all agreed in earnest.
“I want to go home.” Liam repeated, still on his knees. At that point, he didn't care about the humiliation; it wasn't like this was new. He just had to get out of there, and to get home where it was safe. If that meant enduring this mockery, then so be it.
“What's that? You wanna stay here?”
“I want to go home.”
“You don't wanna go home?” Mason tilted his head, looking confused, before he shrugged. “All right, if you wanna stay here, that's your business. We won't stop ya, will we, lads?”
“No,” his cronies echoed, still filming.
Liam stood up.
“I don't want any trouble,” he said. He bravely stepped forward and tried to walk past, hoping that if he exuded an air of confidence, they would allow him to leave. His facade crumbled when he was again shoved back by Mason.
“Trying to scurry away again, are ya? Little rat.”
“If he wants to leave, maybe we should chuck him down the drain, as well,” said Henry, causing them all to laugh.
“Here, lads, watch this.” Mason reached into his pocket, and pulled out a box of matches. He did not miss the sharp intake of breath from Liam. “It's a bit cold in here, isn't it, Liam?”
“No.” Liam pressed himself into the wall, as Mason took a step forward.
“Ah, no, see, look, you're lying again. Ya just can't help yourself, can ya?”
Mason struck a match and held it upright as it burst into flame. He held it in front of Liam's petrified face, before casually flicking it at him.
Liam flinched and jumped back as much as he could, as the match fizzled out near his left arm. Mason lit another match, and again threw it at Liam, this one landing dangerously close to his hoodie.
“Please, just stop!” Liam sobbed, covering his face, as yet another match was thrown at him. And then another one. And another one. “Please!”
His impassioned pleas were drowned out by the sound of Mason's laughter, as he continued to light the matches.
Liam looked around at the boys, the phones, the laughter, and he landed on Dylan's face. He was filming, like the rest, but he didn't appear to be too happy about it. “Please,” he said again, looking directly into his old friend's eyes. “Please do something!”
Dylan just stared at him.
“You're not still mates with this loser, are ya?” asked Mason, match in hand ready to be struck.
“No,” said Dylan casually, looking at the crying Liam through his phone camera. It made it seem less real.
“Then why is he begging ya to stop?”
Dylan shrugged, looking casual, though his heart was pounding.
“Dunno. I don't know how a loser thinks.”
Mason snorted with laughter, and returned his attention to Liam.
“Right, then,” he said, putting the matches back in his pocket, and walking up to the smaller boy. “I think that's enough for today, don't you lads?” He didn't bother to look behind him as he approached Liam yet again. “You know you're a dirty, little rat, yeah?” he asked, and Liam nodded. “Well, this is where rats sleep.”
“What -?” but before Liam could say anything else, two of the boys had grabbed him, and Mason had produced a length of rope from his bag.
Liam struggled, kicked, and screamed as his hands were tied behind his back, but was no use. Nobody could hear him, and the five people that could were not going to help him.
“Oi, you.” Mason turned to Dylan. “Come on, give us a hand.”
Having no choice, Dylan stepped forward and helped Mason to bind Liam's ankles together, and held Liam's head while Mason shoved a rag into his mouth. “Over there.” Mason snapped his fingers, and the boys hauled Liam over to the cupboard under the stairs. On Mason's order, Dylan opened the door. It was musty, full of cobwebs, and cramped. He stepped aside as they shoved the boy in, and Liam stumbled and fell onto the dirty floor. He had just enough time to look up at the boys before Mason slammed the door shut and locked it. “Night, night, Liam!” he called cheerfully over the muffled begs and screams. “See ya sometime tomorrow. Sweet dreams!”
Laughing loudly, he and the boys left, shutting the front door behind them, and leaving Liam alone.
Gary held Maria tightly as an officer stood in front of them, notebook in hand. Craig was conducting door-to-door inquiries, and two other policemen were searching the immediate area.
“He hasn't gone off somewhere,” Maria was saying. “You need to find him!”
“Mrs Connor, we're gonna do everything we can to find him,” said the policeman gently. “Now, are you sure he didn't go off to a friend's house without telling you? Did you have an argument, and maybe he left?”
“No!” said Maria, aware that they were wasting precious time. “He – he hasn't got any friends,” she revealed. “Look, he's being bullied by a group of kids at school,” she told him, and Gary held her tighter. “They've turned all his friends against him. It's gotten so bad he's had to leave school! They've threatened him with a knife!”
“He's been having... suicidal thoughts,” said Gary, hoping to make the officer understand. “He wouldn't run away; he's been too terrified to leave the house.”
“Right,” said the officer. “We will certainly be questioning those involved, but please have a think about if there's anything Liam has said today that might help us find him.”
“You're not listening!” Maria snapped. “He's been too scared to leave the house! He wouldn't have gone anywhere without telling us!”
Laughter from their right caused the three of them to look around, and they saw Mason, Dylan, and their friends casually walking the street, looking as if they hadn't a care in the world.
In a few quick strides, Gary was in front of Mason, and had grabbed the front of his jacket. He was pleased to see a look of shock cross Mason's face.
“Where is he? Where's Liam!?” he shouted, as Mason wrenched himself free, and the officers came running over.
“Whoa, whoa, get your hands off me, man, or I'll have you done for assault!”
“What's the problem?” one policeman asked.
“Ask him,” said Mason, pointing at Gary, and glaring. “I was just walking down the street, when this psycho grabs me!”
“No, ask him; he's done summat to Liam. I know he has!” said Gary as Maria ran over to him. “Where is he, you little weasel, eh?!”
“Sir, I need you to keep calm, please.” One officer stepped in between them, holding his arms out. Mason backed away, a smug look his face.
Craig arrived and stood near his colleagues, in case the need for backup should arise.
“No, he knows where my stepson is!”
“Sir, let us handle this.” The officer, PC McElvie, turned to Mason. “Do you know where Liam Connor is?”
Mason looked surprised.
“Why would I know where Liam Connor is?”
“Can you answer the question, please?”
“Ain't seen him for ages. He's usually up hiding in his room, ain't he?”
“That's because you've been bullying him!” said Maria, but the policeman held up his hand, and she quietened.
“Have you been by here at all today?”
“No,” said Mason.
“Have you seen him today?”
“I've just said I haven't seen him, didn't I?”
“Watch your attitude,” the officer's tone was serious, and Mason placed his hands in his pockets, looking around with disinterest. He could feel the daggers that Gary and Maria were giving him, but he didn't care. They had nothing on him, plus he was only giving Liam what he deserved. “Liam hasn't been seen for more than four hours now, so we just wanna ask you a few questions. Can you tell us where you've been?”
“I was at school, then I was hanging out with me mates.”
“Where?” asked McElvie, as Craig jotted down what they were saying.
“My house. Watched a film.”
“What did you watch?” asked Maria.
“Finally got 'round to watching 'Oppenheimer.' It was all right, weren't it, lads?” Mason looked behind him, and the boys all agreed.
“Okay, and what were you all doing out, especially at this time of night?”
“We got hungry, so we went out for a takeaway.” Mason held up the Styrofoam container.
Maria crumpled against Gary. Once again, they had no proof, and if the officers believed Mason, then she didn't know just quite what else she could do. She wanted to grab Craig and order him to make Mason talk. She wanted to grab Mason and shake him until his teeth rattled. She just wanted her son back.
“Dylan,” she said, her face wet with tears, as the boys started to walk away. “Dylan, please. Is this true?”
Dylan looked at her. He could feel Mason's gaze on him. He remembered the matches, the knife, and the fact that Liam was gagged and bound in a tiny cupboard at that very moment. It could easily have been him.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it's true. We were all at Mason's all evening. We haven't seen Liam.”
They could only stare at him, a mixture of shock and devastation written on their faces, and he had to look away.
“Right, well, if there's nothing else, I'll be off,” said Mason. The officer nodded, and the boys started walking again. “School night, ya know.”
Maria grabbed his arm, and he looked at her. “If you've laid a finger on my son, you're dead!” she hissed.
Mason only chuckled, and pulled his arm free. “Did ya see that? Threatening a minor.” Mason tutted, looking at the policemen. “Makes you wonder just how safe Liam is at home, don't it? Maybe that's why he left.” He quickly stepped back as both Gary and Maria started for him, only to be held back by the two officers. He allowed a smirk to cross his face. “Hope he comes home soon,” he called over his shoulder, before he and his friends rounded the corner.
“What are you doing?!” snapped Gary, gesturing to the corner, he and Maria having been let go. “He knows where Liam is! You need to make him tell us!”
“Sir, we will be checking out Mason's story, and we'll be speaking to his friends, as well. In the meantime, we're going to continue searching for Liam.”
“How can ya just let him walk away? He threatened my son with a knife!” Maria shouted.
“As I've said, Mrs Connor, we'll check his alibi, and we'll keep you informed of how the investigation is going.”
“Just please find my son,” Maria begged, covering her eyes with her hand.
“Did ya see their faces?” Mason crowed as they dawdled down the cobbled streets. “They're proper cacking it, ain't they?” He noticed that Dylan was the only one who was not laughing. “What's wrong with you? You're not thinking about Rat Boy, are ya?”
“No,” said Dylan. “What you gonna do about the car?” He was genuinely curious, as they had left it abandoned on the other side of the Viaduct.
“He'll find it,” said Mason, referring to his contact, and Dylan did not press the matter further.
“So, when are you gonna let Liam go?” he asked, after a few moment's silence, and Mason stopped and turned around. Dylan tried to keep his face neutral as Mason glared at him.
“When he's learned his lesson; what's it to you?” he growled.
“Nothing! I just don't want us to get in trouble, that's all.”
“Look they've got nothing on us.” Mason started to walk again, leading the pack back to his house, as Luke, Henry, and Mike left for their own homes along the way.
“But Gary and Maria will get it into their heads that we've done something. They'll be watching us like a hawk. You know what they're like.”
“Look,” Mason spun round again. “Our alibi is airtight, all right? I rented the film before we left, and we were seen at the takeaway. We weren't caught on the camera at Rat Boy's place, so they've got nothing. It's all good, man.” Stepping up to his front door, he took out his key.
“Yeah. Yeah, you're right. You've thought of everything,” said Dylan, and Mason smiled.
“Told ya I had it all planned out, didn't I? Now, come on.” He opened the door, and gestured for Dylan to go in.
“No, it's all right, I'd better be getting back. See you tomorrow.”
“Laters,” was all Mason said, shutting the door in Dylan's face.
Later that night, Dylan was lying in his bed, when his phone buzzed. He saw that it was a text from Mason, and he opened it.
'Remember not a word about what happened tonite. You were all at mine. Delete this message when your done'
Dylan looked at his bedroom door, and then back down at his phone, his thumb hovering over the delete button. He couldn't help thinking of Maria and Gary searching the streets, couldn't get the terrified look on Maria's face out of his mind. Then he thought about Liam. Dylan wondered if he'd spat the gag out yet, or if he had managed to kick the door in. Or maybe he was just lying there, crying in the pitch black, maybe struggling to breathe. Maybe he couldn't reach his inhaler, if he even had it with him.
Dylan deleted the message, and got under his blankets, putting his phone on the nightstand.