Turning Point

My wrist ties were done far too rightly, the plastic bit hard into my wrists. Lister didn't seem to care.

He turned to my mum and, in a hushed voice, said, "Look at this crowd, they're terrified. In a place like that? With this many people crushed together? I don't care if your son is an idiot or if they're ill, they've proved to be dangerous. Leaving him out here is stupid. Cut the ties apart when you're out of here and he can't hurt anyone else."

"I'm not dangerous!" I said, my voice a little too loud in comparison to the heroes.

"Doesn't seem that way to me," Lister hissed, pushing me toward the exit, "Go home, and be grateful you aren't spending the night in a cell."

My mum held me by the arm and began to drag me past the crowds and toward the door, saying over her shoulder, "I'm sorry, Chris, it's the concussion."

"I glanced behind me to see Chris nodding, "I know… It's alright. Just maybe thinking about keeping him home from school a little bit longer."