September 8 No flashing lights for rescuers

Sunlight strobes through the trees as we make our way through the forest. Good english trees, oaks and beeches, strong and ever present. I used to count the trees each time we made this journey, never got the same figure twice, didn't matter, trees are planted and fall all the time.
The cold air forcing salty tears as I stare out into the distance, wishing to be going anywhere else. Wishing seems to bring me no luck these days.
Mum's in the passenger seat, talking to my dad, I tune out their voices. It'll be another hour till we get to Leo's and then I'll be placed in the snooker room they've built in the attic, I've brought a book, never been invited to play and my grandparents would offer if they wished me to. Wonder how long it'll be this time. The air cools as the sun sets. Dad's turned the radio on.
I would give everything I own, give up my life, my heart, my own.