Nobody

His room didn’t smell good, a bit like the changing rooms after cross country. The only light was pushing its way in through a slit in the curtains.

“Who knows you’re here?”

It felt like a throw away question. Like he didn’t even care what my answer was.

That made it so much worse.

As soon as I answered his little smile made me wish I’d thought first, made me want to grab the word back, swap it for another one.

Change it for a comforting one like Mum or Dad.

A lie.

But sometimes they were OK. Weren’t they?