A&E in Manchester Royal Infirmary was taking longer than I expected that I gave in to the scent of TCP infiltrating the hall.

"Come on! If you stop squirming, this'll be easy," I scolded, holdin' onto the towel wrapped around his arm.

"It's boody painful! How do you expect me to stay still?" Abs hissed in pain, pressing the towel against the wound that was soaked in blood.

"Who's he?" I asked while waiting for our turn to be called, trying to distract myself from the blood-soaked towel. I'm hemophobic, I can faint when I see blood.

"Nick Pholadi. He's the reason why best friends don't exist, only a bunch of fake friends," he answered with conviction.

I wanted to argue with him; best friends do exist. Take me, for instance, I could be his best friend if he saw how sincere I am in this friendship. But I let it go. I knew he was angry and in pain, so his words didn't mean much.

"How the heck does he know where we're at?" I asked another question.

"Honestly, I've no idea how he knows our location. People who know about me and Nick might talk, you know?" Abs sounded agitated by my silly but important question.

"What's his deal, then?" I probed further, unaware of his irritation.

Abs hesitated at first but eventually gave in. "Nick's parents and I were from Afghanistan, so we connected that way. We both grew up in Sunderland, close like brothers. But his dad, he's involved in some organized crime syndicate, dealin' coke and guns. They didn't have any names; their operation was incognito. Smugglin', killin' people for fun, makin' folks in Hendon and Mowbray live in fear.

"Me dad thought it was dangerous for me to be friends with him, so he separated us. But things got worse. Nick and his dad raided our homes, took everythin' from us. He was the reason me mum died. They kidnapped her and deported her back to Kabul in a shipping container, but she suffocated durin' the journey. We left Sunderland and moved here to start afresh. And now this."

"That's one messed-up friend you've got," I retorted. "So, he wants somethin' back. What is it?"

"He can say whatever he wants. I took what's mine, and I owe him nothin'!" he snapped, offended by my question.

"Abs, I'm not accusin' you of stealin'. I'm just curious about what he's after," I clarified.

"Me mum's weddin' ring," he responded in a deadpan tone.

I couldn't quite wrap my head around this answer. How could a ring be worth killin' for? Did it have some invisible powers or bring world domination? I filed those thoughts away and continued the conversation.

"Have you tried callin' the police?" I asked firmly.

"We did, but even the authorities had their fair share on us as well. If we expose the Pholadis, I'll be deported too and lose my refugee status," Abs reasoned.

The receptionist interrupted our conversation, calling out Abs' name and searching the room for a response. I raised my hands high enough for her to spot us, motioning toward Abs' injured arm. She nodded in acknowledgment. I handed Abs over to the receptionist and watched as she guided him into the ward, secretly trying to touch his strong biceps.

His belief that best friends don't exist echoed in my mind like a haunting bell. I felt disheartened that he never truly appreciated me, someone who had always been there for him through thick and thin.