Scott (WIP)
 
Scott sat on the beach, with his long legs reaching the water’s edge. His toes felt the cold caress of the Atlantic sea.  The sand felt damp under his jeans, but he did not stir: instead, he just looked out at the horizon, mesmerised by the sun as it began its slow descent. This was where, and how, he found his peace. He was never afraid of being alone. He needed time to be silent; to listen to his heart; to understand his thoughts. Not many people – certainly not his friends – could do this: they were frightened by such aloneness, by allowing such a frank knowledge of themselves to invade their lives, and to affect their psyche. He was different. And this evening, he was agitated and disturbed. He tried to sift through the event of the last few weeks and work out if he had acted properly – working with his true feelings. Kate was in a real fix.  Had he made things worse?
 
Kate was his sister. She was a tall girl – like him their height belied their true age: people always thought he was 18, when he was only 16; Kate looked about 15, but she was just 13. She was gentle and trusting. He adored her, and had promised his mum that he would always look after her. Why had she died? It wasn’t fair. He just couldn’t do it.  Kate never listened to him, and Dad – well – he was never clued up; he just didn’t notice things, and he always dealt with problems in the same way. Like Kate, he assumed they would go away, and that really, they didn’t exist at all. Give it time, he would say; it’ll pass. But this problem was becoming a crisis and nobody could see it, only Scott. He felt bombarded, almost panicky. Kate had become stroppy, dismissing him all the time and telling him to stay away from her, and to mind his own business. She was his business! If only his mum was still with them. The crash had taken 2 lives, and it had crushed several more – for ever. One day, he would get away from this place; the pain was still raw, and he was sure it would never heal. In some other town, the memories would have to fade, so he could move on.
 
The sky had become dark. The red ball had completely disappeared. Stars would now emerge, and twinkle. The odd boat would glide slowly across the sea, sparkling like silver jewels. And Scott would continue to stare, because he hadn’t sorted things out yet; his head was heavy, and his body ached from its lack of movement. He wouldn’t give up: he would stay there all night if he had to – he’d done that before, waking up as dawn broke, with a still-weak sun breathing life into him. Kate and Dad had not reckoned on his determination; they hardly knew this sixteen-year-old boy who was slowly losing his skin. There was a lot of Mum in him – she would never let go, either; she would never run away from a problem, but face it head on. Oh, how he missed her. So that’s what he would do: he would deal with it straight away. Kate would go mad, but she would thank him in the end. He’d put things right, even if it meant upsetting as few people – badly. He was ready for them; his sister was not going to get sucked in.
 
C.2
 
 
Scott leapt to his feet. Now that he’d made up his mind, he felt happier. He scanned the black vista, then turned around and paced back to the path that would lead him into town. The sand was left with deep impressions of size 10 trainers. Would his trail be there tomorrow?