Ride or Die. Khurrum Rahman

      The lift doors opened and I saw Mum before she saw me. She had taken position behind the reception desk and was dealing with a hotel guest. She’d already told me, on the phone the night before, that she wouldn’t be able to accompany me to the airport as she couldn’t get the time off at such short notice. It was better this way. I tend to get overly emotional at airports.

      I moved myself in her eye line and gave her a small wave, she beamed when she saw me and I recognised the sadness behind it. She palmed off the guest to a colleague, picked up a large boxy paper bag and hurriedly walked around the reception desk. She placed the bag by her feet and threw her arms around me, one hand cupping the back of my head, the other hand lightly gripping my shirt.

      I was going to miss Mum so fucking much, but I was determined not to show it. The last time we had said goodbye it was a cocktail of tears and snot and uncertainty. I couldn’t show her that I was still that person. She had to know I’d be alright.

      ‘It’s cool, Mum,’ I said, as she released me, my smile coming easily as she straightened my hair. ‘I’ll come visit soon.’

      ‘Or I can come and see you in the New Year.’

       And see the mess that my life has become.

      ‘I’d rather come back to be honest, Mum. Keep the sun going for me.’

      ‘Andrew is going to drive you to the airport, Jay. He’s just bringing the car around.’

      ‘He didn’t have to do that,’ I said. The last thing I needed was stilted conversation, but at least it would stop Idris from interrogating me further.

      ‘If you need anything, anything, I’m here, Jay. I’ll be here.’

      I know what she meant. She would always be there just as my father wasn’t.

      ‘Oh, almost forgot.’ Mum picked up the boxy bag and handed it to me. ‘I popped into the mall this morning before my shift and got this for you.’

      I snaked my hand into the bag and pulled out a smart, sandy coloured mac. I nodded dumbly at it.

      ‘For your interview, Jay. You can’t turn up in your parka.’ Mum smiled and in that moment the hard fought determination not to cry threatened to crumble as my bullshit lie gained momentum. Not wanting Mum to see me break, I moved back into her, holding her tightly, releasing a deep breath over her shoulder, as Idris averted his gaze to the floor. I steeled myself and released her as she planted goodbye kisses all over my face. I took it all in, the smell, the touch, the comfort. A weird feeling swept over me – I couldn’t shake it off – that a time was coming when I would desperately need to reach out and recall this moment.

Chapter 9

       Imy

      It wouldn’t bring back my family, but pulling the trigger felt right. I didn’t entertain the idea of disposing of the bodies. I left them where they fell and walked out of their home. The immense feeling of satisfaction was fleeting and I was overcome with an almighty tiredness as I struggled through the now torrential rain. Burying my wife and my son, followed by the long drive to Blackburn with nothing on my mind but avenging my family, had consumed me. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. Slept. The adrenaline that pushed me was gone, leaving me feeling more exhausted than I’d ever been.

      The rain hindered my vision as I swayed and staggered and once stumbled to my knees as I tried to remember where I’d parked my car. I eventually found it after walking obliviously past it, before recalling that I had stolen Kumar’s company Mondeo and not travelled in my own Prius. My mind and body, that had worked together perfectly to exact my revenge, had deserted me and the sharpness was replaced by a mist.

      I turned up the heating the moment the car came to life, and held my hands close up to the vents, the seat beneath me shaking in rhythm to my body. I hunched over the steering wheel for support and gripped it tightly as I drove out of Parkland Avenue. With my phone at home and the absence of a satnav I drove aimlessly from one empty street to another until signs led me to the M6.

      Thirty minutes on the motorway and I was startled back to alertness as headlights filled my car. I looked in the mirror, and saw a big BMW X5 with fluorescent markings. My heart thumped in my chest. They flashed again. What had I done to give myself away? I looked down and saw that the needle was hovering at forty-five mph, which on a motorway is almost as dangerous as speeding. I put my foot down, taking the car to sixty and beyond, hoping they wouldn’t feel the urge to pull me over and ask me any questions or search my car.

      The car slipped into the middle lane. Their eyes on me as they moved past. I noticed then that it was a Highways Officer – plastic police, not the real thing. Even so, I was shaking long after I lost sight of their tail-lights.

      I released a sigh of relief which turned into a yawn. The heavy patter on my windshield was hypnotic, and yet again I found my eyelids starting to betray me. My body flagged and my shoulder moved towards something to lean against, causing the car to veer into the middle lane. The blare of an SUV shook me. I pulled back hard and the car swerved before settling back into its lane. As I straightened up in my seat I caught a glimpse of a young family, eyes wide and faces white with fright. I threw up a hand in apology.

      There was no way I could complete the four-hour journey in that state. I had to take a risk before I became a risk to other drivers. I had to get off the motorway before somebody got hurt.

      I managed to stay alert for the next five miles, and pulled into the first service station. I kept my cap low and my head down as I walked across the forecourt and followed the inviting light through the automatic doors. Despite it being the early hours of the morning, it was busy with families and groups of friends coming or going. Living a life that I would never have. I headed straight to the bathroom and splashed and scrubbed my face with cold water. I ran a wet hand