foreign tone. Bizarrely she sounded like she was actually pleased to see me. “Are you okay?”
I was stunned into silence by the sound of her voice and I realised it was the first time she’d spoken to me in what must be years.
“I’m fine,” I eventually managed to mutter. My dad re-emerged and clicked his fingers at her before pointing into the living room like a master over his dog, to which she dutifully obeyed. He followed after her and I began the process of dragging my heavy legs up the stairs to seek solace in my bedroom. When I reached it I threw my clear ‘Patient Belongings’ bag to the floor and climbed into bed, pulling the covers straight over my head.
Tears began to sting as they leaked from the corners of my eyes. Soon enough they were flowing freely and settling into a pool in the crook of my neck. The pain in my chest was excruciating. I could feel my heart begin to swell. My lungs felt crushed by the weight of it – struggling to fill with air. It was so painful – as if it was about to burst. I needed to get it out. Release the pressure. I needed to see it.
Just one.
Of course once I started I couldn’t seem to stop at just one. Perched on the edge of the bath I ran the blood-stained blade through my soft flesh for the fourth time… but I wanted more. The painful balloon forming in my chest deflated a little more with each cut. Each time was deeper and I watched intently as the pain drained from my body, making pretty red patterns as it spiralled down my leg.
I could breathe again after the sixth cut. My heart felt lighter and my lungs were freed. I sighed contentedly as I cleaned myself up and sprayed the evidence of my anguish with antiseptic before grabbing my dressings from under my bed and covering them up. That always disappointed me somewhat. I liked to see them. I needed to see them. They were a reminder that my pain was real.
Regret consumed me as I curled myself up into a tight ball on top of my comforter. I didn’t think I’d ever have to lie here again. I didn’t want to ever have to lie here again. Once again I sobbed heavily into my pillow, crying until my eyes were too sore and swollen to produce fresh tears.
My ears pricked up at the sound of the doorbell and automatically I noted the time – 07:45 PM. No one ever visited this house and it was surely too late for a salesman. Gently easing myself out of bed I crept across the landing to the top of the stairs, making sure I avoided the loose floorboard outside my bedroom door.
“Well you can’t. She’s sleeping. Surely this can wait until morning?” I heard my dad say. He sounded angry and it ignited fear in my bones. Whoever it was would be my fault.
“I’m afraid it can’t. This medication was missed off her prescription and it’s vital I explain the dosage and instructions to her,” replied the most soothing voice in the world.
I was already half way down the stairs. When I reached the bottom my dad turned and glared at me. His sinister eyes were bursting with promise and I knew he was annoyed with me. Possibly foolishly - with Richard just feet away from me – I didn’t care.
“Amy,” Richard said and his velvety voiced melted into my ears. “I’m sorry to bother you so late but I just need to run through a couple of things with you. Is that okay?” I nodded overenthusiastically and I heard my dad’s breathing becoming jagged beside me. Bravely – or stupidly – I stepped past him and out onto the front yard, closing the door behind me.
Richard was wearing tight blue jeans and a white v-neck sweater. He looked like he’d just jumped off the cover of Vogue magazine and my ridiculous heart did that stupid fluttering thing. He looked nervous as he handed me a white paper bag containing a small box of pills. Surely a late night home visit to drop off meds is above and beyond his precious duties, my smartass subconscious bellowed. I mentally slapped the invisible face behind the unwelcome voice
I was stunned into silence by the sound of her voice and I realised it was the first time she’d spoken to me in what must be years.
“I’m fine,” I eventually managed to mutter. My dad re-emerged and clicked his fingers at her before pointing into the living room like a master over his dog, to which she dutifully obeyed. He followed after her and I began the process of dragging my heavy legs up the stairs to seek solace in my bedroom. When I reached it I threw my clear ‘Patient Belongings’ bag to the floor and climbed into bed, pulling the covers straight over my head.
Tears began to sting as they leaked from the corners of my eyes. Soon enough they were flowing freely and settling into a pool in the crook of my neck. The pain in my chest was excruciating. I could feel my heart begin to swell. My lungs felt crushed by the weight of it – struggling to fill with air. It was so painful – as if it was about to burst. I needed to get it out. Release the pressure. I needed to see it.
Just one.
Of course once I started I couldn’t seem to stop at just one. Perched on the edge of the bath I ran the blood-stained blade through my soft flesh for the fourth time… but I wanted more. The painful balloon forming in my chest deflated a little more with each cut. Each time was deeper and I watched intently as the pain drained from my body, making pretty red patterns as it spiralled down my leg.
I could breathe again after the sixth cut. My heart felt lighter and my lungs were freed. I sighed contentedly as I cleaned myself up and sprayed the evidence of my anguish with antiseptic before grabbing my dressings from under my bed and covering them up. That always disappointed me somewhat. I liked to see them. I needed to see them. They were a reminder that my pain was real.
Regret consumed me as I curled myself up into a tight ball on top of my comforter. I didn’t think I’d ever have to lie here again. I didn’t want to ever have to lie here again. Once again I sobbed heavily into my pillow, crying until my eyes were too sore and swollen to produce fresh tears.
My ears pricked up at the sound of the doorbell and automatically I noted the time – 07:45 PM. No one ever visited this house and it was surely too late for a salesman. Gently easing myself out of bed I crept across the landing to the top of the stairs, making sure I avoided the loose floorboard outside my bedroom door.
“Well you can’t. She’s sleeping. Surely this can wait until morning?” I heard my dad say. He sounded angry and it ignited fear in my bones. Whoever it was would be my fault.
“I’m afraid it can’t. This medication was missed off her prescription and it’s vital I explain the dosage and instructions to her,” replied the most soothing voice in the world.
I was already half way down the stairs. When I reached the bottom my dad turned and glared at me. His sinister eyes were bursting with promise and I knew he was annoyed with me. Possibly foolishly - with Richard just feet away from me – I didn’t care.
“Amy,” Richard said and his velvety voiced melted into my ears. “I’m sorry to bother you so late but I just need to run through a couple of things with you. Is that okay?” I nodded overenthusiastically and I heard my dad’s breathing becoming jagged beside me. Bravely – or stupidly – I stepped past him and out onto the front yard, closing the door behind me.
Richard was wearing tight blue jeans and a white v-neck sweater. He looked like he’d just jumped off the cover of Vogue magazine and my ridiculous heart did that stupid fluttering thing. He looked nervous as he handed me a white paper bag containing a small box of pills. Surely a late night home visit to drop off meds is above and beyond his precious duties, my smartass subconscious bellowed. I mentally slapped the invisible face behind the unwelcome voice
Similar Books
