Matthew rushed over to the chair, and felt in Lukas’ jeans. No phone. And the circle of blood was spreading wider, soaking the carpet. A lot of blood.

Matthew stood up and ran his fingers through his hair.

And then he ran. He ran out of the music room, and through the workroom, and ran up the hall stairs. He tripped, because the light was out. His foot slid backwards, and he landed on his knee. Fell onto his chest. And slid backwards. He pushed himself up. Got his footing, and dragged himself up with the banister.

He rushed into the kitchen, not thinking about McCady, thinking only of the house phone, in the hall, but she was there.

She looked up. And dropped the pan that she was holding. It clattered onto the floor.

Matthew stopped.

She staggered back a little. Tried to take Matthew in. Tried to take in the blood, and the expression on Matthew’s face.

‘But what’s happened!’

‘Call an ambulance,’ Matthew said.

She didn’t move.

‘It’s Lukas. He’s hurt himself. He’s cut himself.’

She stood stock still for a moment, and then she started to move.

‘Tell them to stop out the front. I’ll carry him up to the gate. He’s bleeding really bad.’

Matthew rushed out to the hall again, and ran down the stairs. He had known he would have to phone an ambulance. He knew that. Why hadn’t he gotten his phone? Why hadn’t he thought about it?

He ran through the workroom and into the music room. Lukas was just as he had left him, though he wasn’t pissing or shitting anymore. Between his legs, there was a feeble pulse of blood. A regular little geyser, pulsing with every beat of Lukas’ heart.

Matthew stared for a moment.

And then he looked around him. There was blood everywhere. All over the walls. On the carpet. On the piano keys.

Lukas looked as though he had bathed in it.

But he wasn’t moving.

Matthew rushed forward and picked him up.

He stank.

The smell of shit.

Matthew jiggled him, tried to rouse him, and Lukas came to a little.

‘You did it yourself,’ Matthew said, as he was carrying him out of the room. ‘You have to say that. You have to say you did it yourself.’

Lukas looked at him, though his eyes were unfocussed.

‘You understand me, Lukey? You have to say that it was your idea, and that you did it yourself. You flushed it down the john. Have you got that?’

Lukas closed his eyes, and his head fell to one side.

Matthew carried him up the stairs and opened the door into the garage. He struggled to get Lukas through it, and then he hit the switch for the roller door.

Already, in the far distance, he could hear the siren of the ambulance.

The roller door clattered up and revealed a day dark with rain. Heavy grey clouds hung above the trees, and there was a torrent of water falling.

Matthew ducked under the door and walked out into it, feeling the cold water like needles on his skin.

He started to trot, trotting around the side of the house, but he lost his footing on the muddy drive, and fell. He hit the ground sideways, and Lukas landed on his back.

Matthew picked himself up, and bent to pick Lukas up again, watching the way the water washed the blood from Lukas’ perfect skin as Matthew found the entrance to the path, which was the quickest way to the gates. He started to trot, trotting up the path, and feeling leaves and branches flick past him.

He was drenched, his clothes were soaked, his hair was soaked, and his shoes were soaked, before he had made it halfway up the path, and Lukas was heavy.

He could hear the siren now, louder, though it seemed to come in bursts through the rain. It was a long way away. He could tell that. And he slowed his pace to walking.

Lukas was heavy, but he was clean now. His blond hair wet, his face and chest and stomach splashed with drops and running with rivulets of water. His head was turned to one side, against Matthew’s shoulder, like he was a child sleeping, but he was unconscious. Matthew knew that.

Matthew looked at the space between Lukas’ legs. It looked clean now. It didn’t matter that Lukas was naked. There was nothing to cover. Nothing but a bloody spot, a circle, where his cock had been, though the blood was still pulsing there.

But it would be okay, once they had fixed it. Lukas wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t die of blood loss. At least, Matthew hoped so.

He looked at Lukas’ face. He looked pretty pale. In fact, he looked paler than he ever had.

His body was turning white.

When Matthew reached the gate, he had to put Lukas onto the ground. The iron handle was too hard to turn, and he couldn’t manage it while he was holding Lukas.

He put Lukas on the side of the path, on the grass, not wanting to put him on the gravel. Lukas’ knees fell apart, the rain running down the insides of his thighs, washing the place clean. Matthew opened the gate, and picked Lukas up again, carrying him through it and onto the street.

He walked across the verge and stood on the tarmac. The ambulance was close now, only two or three streets away.

Matthew stood in the rain. Waiting. Lukas naked in his arms.

On the other side of the street, the gates of the neighbour’s house opened automatically, followed by the appearance of a classy old Jensen. The woman driving it paused, looked at Matthew holding Lukas, naked, and bleeding, and then she drove on.

The ambulance appeared from the other end of the street, lurching around the curve, lights flashing and siren blaring.

The driver killed the siren and drove past Matthew, pulling up so that he was at the rear of the van.

A door opened at the side, and the medic appeared, shouting in the rain, and with the lights still flashing.

‘What happened to him?’ he said, opening the rear doors.

Matthew swallowed. He felt like he was going to cry.

‘He cut his penis off.’

The medic simply pulled the stretcher out.

‘Have you got it?’ he said.

He was taking Lukas from Matthew, and putting him on the stretcher, and pushing him into the van, all in one movement.

Matthew shook his head. ‘I don’t know what he did with it.’

He saw McCady emerge from the main gates, holding an umbrella.

‘Are you coming?’ the medic said.

Matthew nodded.

He got into the van. The doors were closed. The siren was on and they were moving. It had taken less than a minute.

The medic ripped a huge cotton gauze out of somewhere and placed it over Lukas’ groin. He pressed down hard, with both hands.

‘You think you can do this?’ he said to Matthew.

Matthew nodded, and they swapped positions.

‘You know his blood type?’

Matthew shook his head.

The guy was taking Lukas’ pulse, and then he was pricking his finger. Testing his blood.

He was sticking something into Lukas’ wrist, and a moment later, there was a bag of blood, flowing into Lukas’ veins.

The guy peeled Lukas’ eyes back and shone a torch into them.

‘Has he taken something?’

‘I don’t know.’ Matthew swallowed. ‘He might have.’

The guy moved sideways, and sat on a seat in front of the computer. He was typing something.

‘Is there someone back at the house?’ he said.

Matthew nodded.

‘Where did you find him?’

‘In his workroom.’

‘Workroom?’

Matthew nodded.

The guy was on the phone now. Waiting. Listening.

Matthew didn’t understand how he could be doing so many things so quickly.

‘We’ve got a 407 on Lakeview Drive. The address is number 18. We need police assistance. A teenage boy has cut his member off. We need an immediate search of the house and surrounds.’

He listened.

‘Yes, that’s right. His penis.’

He listened again.

‘His older brother says he was in his workroom. Where is that?’ he said to Matthew.

Matthew was pressing hard on Lukas’ groin. ‘It’s downstairs. In the basement.’

Matthew started crying. Tears started rolling down his face, but the guy ignored him.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘I’ll do that.’

Matthew moved sideways and sat in the seat. He put his head in his hands, and cried, knowing, while he was crying, that he could feel the soft lump of Lukas’ penis in his pocket, pressed up against the inside of his thigh.

A moment later, they were at the hospital.