Read by Paul Clarke
The boy in the bath is holding a razorblade in his right hand, the edge of which is pressed lightly against the skin of his left wrist. He is staring at the droplets of condensation forming on the white tiles of the wall. Vertigo sits on top of the closed lid of the toilet and writes in his notebook. Every now and then he taps the end of his pencil against the edge of the book but the boy in the bath does not seem to register the sound. The bathroom is not large, and with the boy and Vertigo and Dave the crow in there it feels full.
“Is this going to take all night?”