‘God, my head hurts. And my back, and my front. And I’ve dislocated my ear.’
David’s fists clenched in the darkness. With all that had happened, all Derrick cared about were a few aches and bruises. Now anger, part of it, he realised, as a refuge from his own guilt, ran amok.
‘You selfish towrag! How can you sit there and moan when Sad’s dead? At least you could be thinking...’
‘Hey! Who you calling dead? You better watch it.’
Remorse had made Derrick’s voice husky. It almost sounded like...
His heart stopped. He actually felt it miss a beat. But he couldn’t be alive; he’d seen the hole. Derrick, however, was experiencing no such reservations, and the joyful scuffle in the gloom sounded like they were fighting; the words just a muffled gabble.
‘Thought you were dead?
‘Well aren’t so there.’
‘But the hole, and you fell down and everything, and and...’
‘Well I’m not. D’you want me to prove it. Shall I die just to prove you right? And which one of you nerds called me Adrian – again?’
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