You should press play. 

You really should. 

---

My mother’s voice is distinct. Distinct in the ‘The Only Way is Essex’ kind of way. One of those trashy shows that dominate British TV whenever it’s on. It’s a voice I can never forget. Not even after all the years of not talking to her. 

I mean, the last time I spoke to her, was about ten years ago. It was an argument. She was on another drunken bender, hell-bent on making my teenage life shit. Dad had already left way before I knew how bad she was. He was a bit of a dickhead, leaving me and my siblings to deal with her. 

‘Cos it meant that she came home drunk more often than not, pissed that we had made ‘her husband’ leave her behind.

She waltzed into the house to rant at us about how ungrateful we were, how she worked her arse off to provide for us or how we never asked her how she was coping. I sent my younger sister and brother to bed. Couldn’t let them see her like she was. It was after they left that we argued. I might have mentioned something about her being an irresponsible bitch. 

And she kicked me out of the house. 

And, that was that. 

Bounced around family houses until university and then got my place as soon as I could get a steady job. Promised myself to never return. I kept in contact with my siblings and they told me that she eventually calmed down which I was grateful for. Still wasn’t enough reason to return or speak to her. 

Still, her voice is unique. The same slightly high and raspy voice that sounded sweet whenever she was in the best of moods. When she still had control of herself. 

The video cut off, static replacing the screen before us. I had gotten up and pushed myself away from the table in disgust and horror. 

Detective Wells looked at me questioningly. 

“Do you know who they are?” he asked, frowning as he stared at me. 

“She… She’s my mum. She’s my mother. Laura. Laura Bingham,” I answered breathlessly. 

At once, he sprang up to his feet and walked towards the door, shouting for… or at someone. It didn’t really register to me. My mind was still reeling from what the CD had shown. It was her. It was definitely her. The voice. I know her voice like the back of my hand. That voice had shouted, insulted and belittled me for years. 

I wouldn’t miss it. 

“Will?” a voice called from beside me and I jerked in surprise. 

Detective Wells was looking at me with concern on his face. He had a small notebook and a pen as if waiting for me to start speaking. I do him one better. 

“I need to go home,” I said as I started to move towards the door. 

He grabbed me by the arm, stopping me in my tracks. 

“Your house has been cordoned off for the moment. We’re still going through it,” he said. 

“I don’t mean that home. I mean… my mother’s house. I need to go home. My sister and brother stay there. They need to know. I need to get to them. I need to ensure they are safe. I can’t let them alo-” I spilt out without pausing. 

“Will. I need you to calm down. I’ll follow you and we’ll go together. It’s going to be alright, mate. We’ll sort things out,” he said calmly as he led me towards the door. 

As we exited the room, I vaguely heard him giving some extra orders to the officers stationed outside the room and they ran off to comply. I didn’t care. I couldn’t care. All my mind was on my mother. 

I mean, I’m not saying that she was a model mum or anything insane like that. But, she was my mum. Mine. She saw me through flippin’ secondary school. Made me lunch every day until the day I got kicked out. She used to make these little triangle sandwiches, bite-sized, with different fillings just to make me smile when I was younger. 

And there she was, tied to a chair by some maniac in a mask. 

I felt bile rise in my throat as we came out of the police station and I threw up on the ground. I heard as the detective swore under his breath while another officer got me some water and a paper towel to wipe my mouth. 

All that kept repeating in my mind was the masked man and my mother. 

The drive to my mother’s house was roughly forty-five minutes and I spent every minute on edge. I had tried calling my siblings a few times in the car but the call went to voicemail or timed out after the twentieth ring. My anxiety was growing. I saw a few missed calls and messages from Katie. I thought about replying but I pushed it off. I had more pressing matters at hand. 

We pulled up to the semi-detached house in Romford where my siblings stayed with my mother. Tristan was in his final year of university, while Sara was just about to enter hers. With everything that had happened with my father, I made sure to not cut all contact with my younger siblings. 

I mean, fair if my mum wanted me out of the house but they shouldn’t have to pay for her bad decisions, you know. So, I made a point of calling them regularly and planning stuff with them. 

I approached the door hurriedly, rasping my knuckles on the wooden frame with quick knocks. Detective Wells came up from behind me but he didn’t say anything. I knocked two more times and just as panic was beginning to set, the door opened. 

Sara was standing behind the door with a quizzical look on her face which turned to a frown when she saw the detective behind me. 

“Will? What’s going on?” she asked slowly. 

“Mum’s been kidnapped!” I replied. 

“What?” she asked. 

Before I could reply, another head popped out from behind her and Tristan’s face lit up into a smile which faltered at the sight of the detective. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. 

“Mum has been kidnapped. Just received a video of her in a baseme-” 

Detective Wells cleared his throat loudly and stepped forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Madam, can we come in? I don’t think we should discuss this outside,” he said as smoothly as he could, in a lower tone. 

She frowned at him, switched her attention to me and then moved to the side for us to enter. I walked in with haste, down the small corridor and into the living room, before freezing on the spot. A gasp escaped me as the detective came up from behind. 

“Mum?” 

On the couch, sitting in a cross-legged position, was my mother. Her hair wasn’t full blonde anymore, with grey highlights showing through. Her face was wrinkled but her eyes still shone with intensity. She was in a dressing gown and as she turned her face to me, her eyes widened in surprise. 

“Will?” 

She jumped to her feet and rushed towards me, encompassing me in a hug. Even with everything she had done to me, I let myself welcome the hug as I wrap my hands around her too. Tears welled up at the corner of my eyes but I resisted the urge to cry. 

“I take it, this is your mum then?” the detective said dryly. 

“Yeah,” I replied sheepishly. 

My mum loosened her hug around to stare at the officer who nodded and introduced himself. Tristan and Sara stood behind him, frowning at him and then me. I gave them a small shrug as embarrassment filled me. 

“What’s all this about mum being kidnapped?” Sara asked as soon as the detective was done with his introduction. 

I chuckled and waved for them to come into the living room and sit. As they moved, I summarised the events that led me and the detective back to the house. Tristan rubbed his chin at bits but largely kept quiet while Sara’s frown only seemed to deepen. 

My mum just looked shocked by it all. 

“But… yeah… I guess I was wrong,” I said, running a hand through my hair. 

“Of course you were, you bellend. You think mum would go missing and we wouldn’ know? We live with her, you know…” Sara said, raising her eyebrows at me. 

“I know. I was just… working on the information I had,” I countered. 

She stuck a tongue out at me and I laughed. It felt good to laugh. 

“In any case, it would seem like your mother is safe. I’m going to pop back to the station. I take it you’re going to be staying here for the next few days, in case I’ve got some extra questions?” he said. 

As I opened my mouth to reply, there was a knock on the door and the sound of something being slid through the letter slot. 

“Ah. Must be my order,” Tristan said as he got to his feet and disappeared down the corridor. 

I turned back to the detective. 

“Yeah… sure…” I said, suddenly conscious of whose house I was in and whether or not I wanted to stay over. 

I was glad she was alive… but… there was still baggage, you know. 

“Good. Well, it is a pleasure to see you all. Hopefully-” 

“Will..? You’ve got a post, mate…” Tristan said as he walked back into the living room. He looked confused before handing me the letter. 

As I felt it in my hand, I dropped the letter and moved away from it immediately. Detective Wells looked at me and then the package on the floor and he frowned. Picking it up, he opened the letter slowly, everyone shying away, and slowly shook the contents out onto his palm. 

A single CD fell out, with something written on the side of it. I licked my lips to give them some moisture before I asked the question I already knew the answer to.

“What is that on the side of the CD?” I asked. 

The detective took the CD in hand and turned it around. His face darkening told me all I needed to know about what he held in his hand. 

“It says… ‘You should press play, Will.’”