How I Died (I’ve Already Left Everything Out)

POLICE STATEMENT

WITNESS: JOE RATHBONE

POLICE OFFICER: CONSTABLE TASER WILKINS

You want to know what happened? I took on Big Dog and crashed – that’s what happened.

But then you came along. Who even called the cops?

I’m the kid from the hospital, in case you don’t remember. I was lying on a bed, dying, when you appeared. My mum was sitting in a chair, snoring.

‘And what,’ you said, ‘do we have here?’

I was in horrible pain, so Mum jerked awake.

‘Oh,’ she said, seeing you and sounding disappointed. ‘Joe had an accident. On his bike. We’re waiting for a doctor.’

But you’re one tough-looking lady. Gun, vest, radio – the works.

And what you said next got me thinking.

‘I’ve never seen an accident, ma’am.’

That’s what you said. It made me shiver even more than I already was. Ma’am? Harsh. And what did you mean – never seen an accident? Didn’t they happen all the time, especially to kids trying to crush Big Dog?

Mum did that thing she does when she’s trying not to get angry – pinching her eyes with her fingers, like she’s trying to unsee sights she doesn’t want to see.

‘The doctor will be here soon,’ she said.

You looked at her hard.

‘This is a hospital, ma’am,’ you said. ‘Plenty of time for the victim to make a statement.’

Wow, I thought, you’re good. Victims are kids like me who die.

Mum stood up.

‘You can’t be serious. He’s not “the victim”. He’s a boy who fell off his bike.’

‘Should be a short statement then,’ you said. And you held out a piece of paper. I stared at you. You stared at me. I was dying but I reckon my eyes still looked more alive than yours.

Then I did a super brave thing. Even though I was about to snuff it – and even though writing really kills me – I reached out and grabbed the paper.

‘It’s all right, Mum,’ I croaked, wincing with pain. ‘I’ll do it.’

Maybe then I saw a little pleased look on your face. Or maybe not.

‘Write down what happened,’ you said. ‘Try hard to remember and don’t leave anything out.’

‘Look,’ Mum said, ‘is this really necessary?’

‘Nothing’s necessary, ma’am,’ you said, ‘until it is. And by then it’s too late.’ You gave me one last look. ‘Drop the statement into the station when you’re finished.’

And just like that you went.

Cop that!

Leaving me with this bit of paper. Paper with your name typed at the top.

Constable Taser Wilkins.

Write down what happened?

Yes, ma’am!

Try hard to remember?

Um, okay.

Trouble is, when I try hard to remember what happened I can’t, well, remember what happened. I know I took on Big Dog and crashed – that’s what they told me when I woke up at the bottom of the jump.

It’s just that I don’t remember it happening.

And now I’m scared stiff about this statement.

Don’t leave anything out?

I’ve filled the page and I’ve already left everything out. I almost wish I wasn’t dead.