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13/09/1993, 16:24

Montgomery is fast asleep in the backseat of the car, clutching a drawing of roses that almost resembles eyes in his little fist. It's been a long day for the little guy — the first day of school always is.

His mother and father are in the front, silent throughout the entire drive. They'd been arguing before Monty fell asleep — they don't seem to like each other anymore; they haven't liked each other since they tied the knot.

"William." His mother finally breaks the silence, looking at her husband and sighing softly. "William, I'm sorry for getting upset, I just wanted ye to listen to me."

William glares at her for a moment. "Ye can't go back to work, Grace. I ain't lettin' ye; who'll take care a' Monty, eh?"

Grace's expression sours. "I beg yer pardon? Since when d' ye care about his wellbein', huh? Forcin' 'im to sit at the table all night–"

"'E needs to eat, Grace; 'e's a growin' lad."

"Then cook somethin' 'e'll actually eat! 'E can't eat fish and yet it's all ye ever make!"

"'E can eat fish just fine, just needs a push is all."

"And an EpiPen, ye daft cunt," Grace grumbles at him. "'E's allergic to 'em, always 'as been."

William turns to look at her, a scowl on his face. "If 'e eats it enough, 'e'll get used to it and the allergy'll go away."

"That's not 'ow tha– William, the road–!"

Before she can even truly warn him, a lorry crashes square into the car, crushing the front of the car and pushing the vehicle back far enough that it nearly ends up in the window of a local building.

By the time the lorry actually stops moving, shards of the window and parts of the dashboard are everywhere — most of the pieces have managed to impale Grace's body, the largest being inside of her chest. She's no longer breathing and is losing blood a little too slowly considering how most of the shards of glass are definitely in her major arteries. Grace Dempsey is dead.

Another of the large pieces of glass is in William's leg. He's losing blood quickly, but he isn't fully conscious, in and out of lucidity. His phone has ended up in the backseat, just out of reach of a now awake and terrified Montgomery.

His leg won't move very far and his eye really really hurts. "Mum? Da'?" he calls out to them, trying to wrestle his way out of his carseat as he reaches for the phone, not sure what else to do.

He dials 999.

#rehab (posts)#the accident.

@hiscursedson

there’s a hot scolding sensation on his side, dark liquid seeping through his jacket onto his shirt & spreading like a patch of mold. he drops the polystyrene cup onto the counter, coffee swishing around & out onto the counter, giving a harsh stare at the other person. “ are you an idiot? are you just that incapable of putting a lid on properly before dishing it out to your customers? ” he grits through his teeth before walking away & dabbing at his damp jacket, but not before adding another comment. “ keep the change & WHAT are you staring at? ” turning to the side, he catches the gaze of another man sat at a table.

#i dont really know what this is #but i dunno. you can have albus bump into him or witness #the accident.#or he can be the man at the table #hiscursedson #you can choose!