I sit quietly, trying not to disturb Archie.
He is lying on the floor of the van, gangly limbs spread everywhere. He is so tall, and takes up so much space.
So tall, but so vunerable.
Seeing him like this, defenceless and young, asleep on the floor of our van, makes my heart ache. I don't want to think about what he will think when he wakes up. When he looks around wildly for Hannah, chocolate brown eyes desperate and worried.
When I tell him that Hannah is gone.
I sigh, and put my head in my hands. Archie felt responsible for Hannah, ever since we picked her up in Wales, all that time ago. It feels like years, not months. Or has it been a year? I can't tell. Time is irrelevant.
It was completley obvious to everyone except Archie that he was in love with her, and that was the ridiculous thing. They were never "together." And now, maybe they never will be.
Hannah, alone except for the angry crowds. Anger and hate. I shiver. Hannah was so small and delicate, with tiny hands and feet and a ballerina's build. I wanted to ask her if she danced. I wanted to get to know her.
But she took Archie from me, with her huge blue eyes and sickly sweet voice. Snatched him from under my nose, when he had just realised I existed.
I should feel guilty, but it gave me a strange satisfaction, reaching for Archie's hand first before hers. Hauling him into the van, unconsious.
But I hadn't meant for him to be so heavy, and it to take so long. By the time I turned back to let Hannah climb into the van, she was gone.