Ryan got me a skateboard. I nearly cried, which I know it just pathetic, but the whole thing was covered in stickers and I know he'd picked out every single one because they were all green. And I couldn't quite believe it, but he'd brought it all the way from uni with him, the wheels taken off and the board sitting under all his clothes at the bottom of the holdall that he wouldn't let me even pick up the whole way home.

My present to him wasn't so great, but he acted like it was. I'd kitted him out with his own first aid pack. He looked at me like I was entirely the geek I felt I was, but kissed me good and hard anyway when I blustered that it was so I didn't have to worry. I also got him a hoodie. A black one, with the Superman logo big and bold on the front, which Lordy, I know is kind of tacky and completely sappy and also a bit of a visual joke to anybody who doesn't know him, but he still grinned at me. And I knew he got the message.

My mother was a bit confused. "Oh, do you skateboard now, David? It's.. isn't it lovely? And what a nice jumper. Have a chocolate, won't you Ryan?"

She didn't get it, but he did, and his smile kind of told me he thought it was brilliant.

"You're such a Spazz."

"I know."

The day after Boxing Day, Ryan's managed to locate a skate park nearby and we're on our way out, just getting everything together when the doorbell rings. He's determined to get me skating somehow, which I've kind of stopped trying to fight. I mean, I have my own board now – it would be rude.

Mum answers the door. I'm half way through stomping my foot into my trainer, about to shout up the stairs for Ryan to hurry up, but I stop when I look up at her. She's only got the door open the smallest amount, and her voice is kind of tense, like it goes when Dad forced her into arguments she didn't want to have.

"No, I'm sorry. You really can't. You just... You wait there a minute, please." I've never seen her close the door in anybody's face, but she does it then. Her shoulders are tight and her smile's gone when she turns around.

"Mum?"

"There are some police officers here who say they want to see you." Her hand comes up to her forehead, touching her temples gently and then slipping back down again. I know she's reminded herself not to smudge her makeup. Her smile pulls out as broad and fake as any of mine. "Why do they want to see you?"

My jaw drops just a fraction, head rushing me through all the reasons they could be there. Community outreach, goodwill gestures at Christmas time, anything at all that isn't serious. Please.

"I don't... I don't know." I'm as confused as she is. There's only one reason there could be and the chances of them finding the man who attacked me. They're slim enough that I avoid those thoughts at all costs. "It's nothing. I'm sure it's nothing."

She nods firmly and the tension around her eyes shrinks back to normal. "That's what I thought. They've made some kind of mistake. You just say hello and tell them that," she nods again. "Be polite, David."

She tugs me forwards, slinking back with one arm folded around her chest, hand covering over her mouth as though she can sense disaster coming.

Sure enough, there are two uniformed officers on the door step, one of them a WPC.

"Uh hi. Hello. How can I... help?"

"Mr Gale?"

I nod. "Mr David Gale?"

"Yes. Yes?"

"I'm PC Hughes and this is WPC Maconahay. We're sorry to trouble you today. We didn't have an up to date contact number on file and there's been a development in your case. We need you to come down to the station, just to sort something out with us."

My throat is horribly dry and I'm white-knuckling the edge of the door. I was wrong about this being nothing. "Now?"

"If now would be convenient."

I'm dizzy and when I swallow, I misjudge slightly. The air bubble I gulp down makes me want to vomit. My words force through it with a painful, solid edge.

"What kind of development?"

"There was another attack, we believe by the same man."

My throat closes over and I gag involuntarily, enough that I need to clamp my hand over my mouth and concentrate on breathing. In and out, and in and out and everything will be fine. It will. It has to be. "Where?"

"In the same location."

Behind me, I hear the tell-tale bump and squeak of Ryan's wheels as he shoves down the stairs, then along the corridor towards me.

"What's going on?" I can hear the frown through his voice without even looking around at him. And I can't look at him. I'll break down.

My eyes dash to the WPC and she dips her head, giving me a reassuring smile. I bite my lip – her cautious look confirms it. She looks like she was expecting all the shock I'm showing.

"We just need Mr Gale to come with us for a little while."

"Why?" Ryan demands, hostile suddenly and I don't understand at all until he continues. "Whatever they told you, I'm not mentally fucking impaired and I've not been brainwashed and you've got no business being here. If I can do a degree I can choose who I-"

"Ryan," I grip his shoulder more tightly than I mean to and he shuts up instantly. I'm practically trembling. I think he gets it then – that it's not about any accusations his parents have set on me. His fingers cover mine over mine, pressure increasing as he grips tightly. I guess I look as pale and shaken as I feel.

My mother, though, has jumped on the bandwagon. "I really don't see why you need to take David to the station. He's not done anything wrong. He doesn't know anything about anyone getting attacked. This is really rather -"

"Mum. It's fine. It's ok. I'll explain when I get home, alright? I won't... I won't be long. Will I?"

The WPC's eyes widen slightly at my words and I'm thankful that she seems to swallow whatever she might have been going to say, locking it all behind a smile. "No. No, we won't keep you longer than we have to. We'll bring him right back Mrs Gale."

"But why does he need to go anywhere?"

I realise they must have said something about it when she first answered the door and that spinning feeling doubles. There's no way I can shrug this off when I get home. Tonight, she's getting everything, and Lordy, that makes me feel so horrible.

Ryan's eyes are firm on me, the intensity in his expression increased at the mention of 'attacks'.

"Hey," he breathes. "Easy, D-Man. You're cool. You're over it."

He doesn't ask, he tells me and I'd like to challenge anyone to argue with that tone of voice. It's difficult to disagree, even though I want to. I'm so very far from cool, but the way he says it makes me have to be.

I nod slowly, prizing my hand down from my mouth.

I have less time than I know how to deal with to stop this from coming out in the most awful way possible and I have to cut the uniformed constable off before he gets a single word of explanation out, and that is so unnatural for me to do. But Ryan's stupidly unprecedented confidence in me helps a lot. He thinks I can do whatever needs to be done.

"So, I'll come with you. Right now," I agree, nodding a little manically. The Maconahay woman nudges the constable's arm and says something too low to hear. I like her the best out of the two right now, but I'd really rather neither of them were here.

More than anything, I want Ryan to come with me, but I can't leave my mum alone when she doesn't know what's going on and this is only worrying her. She's nearly crying.

"David, I don't understand. What's happened?"

Lordy, that's horrible to see. I try to swallow and unpick my clenched fingers from Ryan's, but it is so hard to make myself move.

Ryan squeezes my hand and settles a brief kiss against the back of my palm as he looks up. He gives me a nod and lets his hand slip down to his wheels.

"Hey, Linda, it's cool, ok?" he pulls back from the doorway, turning his chair so he's facing her again. "David'll explain later. It's fine. I promise."

"He's not in any kind of trouble, Mrs Gale," the officer assures her.

Then, somehow, I end up in the back of a police car, being talked to like they know I'm as close to falling apart as I feel.

The thing is, there isn't much I can actually remember about what the guy who attacked me looked like. It all boiled down to stupidly precise things about tiny parts of him. His eyes are burned into my brain forever, but I don't even know how long his hair is. Short, I think, but that's mostly a guess. He has a mole on his stomach and a thin scar on his thigh and his trainers were coming apart at the seams. But I don't know much apart from that. I don't think I let myself put all those parts together consciously. I did such a good job trying to ignore him at the time.

"We have an e-fit that the latest victim put together. We'd like you to take a look at it, maybe it would jog your memory."

I don't answer. Lordy, I don't really know what to say. They got DNA samples and they must have those again. I don't know why they need me.

"It would help if we could get the most accurate representation of him that we can. We've not had any luck with recognition on the e-fit so far. Sometimes people's memory can get distorted, so maybe you can see the bit that isn't quite right."

I nod numbly. I understand, I really do. I'm just doubtful I can help.

The WPC smiles at me in the rear-view mirror and her expression lingers a little longer than is comfortable before she changes the subject. "Is Ryan your boyfriend?"

I chew my lip a little bit and then nod. Her mentioning him just makes me wish he was with me, but I know I have to do this on my own.

"Yes." For a little while I'm so distracted by everything that I don't realise how sharp that answer is. I wring my hands together, pulling at the flesh between my thumb and first finger as I search for something else to say. "He – um. His parents don't really... I think he thought they'd told you lot I'd abducted him."

Her face creases into a pretty smile and I relax a little bit. "I did wonder what that was about."

At least she's not quizzing me on why I haven't told my mother. Lordy, I already know I need to do that.

"You... you're not going to do that, are you? I mean, his parents – they can't do that, can they?"

She shakes her head and that worry at least settles itself down. "If he's a legal adult then he's in charge of his own affairs. They'd have to prove you were doing him some kind of harm in order for the police to intervene and that... doesn't seem to be the case here."

I sink back against the seat, relieved. Has Ryan been worrying over something like that this whole time? I really hope not.

The whole journey to the station is taken up with mindless chatter. The kind of small talk that anybody good with people is supposed to do. I rattle it off at the hospital, cooing over answers and smiling in all the right places, but I just can't give the right responses now.

I'm numb when they walk me into the bustling offices of the station. They try to make it informal – don't take me to an interrogation room, just guide me over to an empty desk in the corner of the room. I'm offered tea, but I just want to get it over with.

My whole chest tightens when PG Hughes asks me if I'm ready to see the picture and all I want to do is run away, but somehow I force myself to nod. My tongue is so thick I nearly choke on it. I stop breathing when he flips the A4 image over.

It's black and white, but the eyes lock me in place. Pressure at the base of my jaw is so strong I have to force a static grin to keep from throwing up. I'm handed a waste paper basket almost instantly and that nearly makes me laugh. My hands are shaking and my eyes burn, but I'm gulping in breaths rather than vomiting, and that's better. It is.

And it's just a picture. Just an image. He's not here and he can't do anything and he doesn't know where I live. I force myself to look again, eyes scanning over the face in front of me.

"His nose is sharper." I don't know how I know, but I do. "And his chin. It's a weak chin. Weaker than that."

So I end up spending the day after Boxing Day helping to alter a digital image of a man I hope to never meet again. Somehow, that makes it all a little easier to deal with. It feels more positive than all the running scared I've done – all the pretending that nothing ever happened. Even though I know I've got Ryan to lean on if I need to, this is something that I'm doing on my own. Oh Lordy, it feels like I've stopped playing victim.