Conviction(15)

My heart is pounding hard as I relive all of those events. I never normally let any of those thoughts or memories come to the surface but sometimes, sometimes, I’m just too tired to keep them away and that’s exactly how I feel right now. Exhausted. I want to get back to England, spend time with my brothers, their wives and their kids. I want to walk my dogs, play golf and sometimes, spend whole days doing absolutely nothing.

I close my eyes and drift off to sleep.





I pull the pillow over my head to try and block out the screams. I can’t remember what it was I was actually dreaming, but the girl screaming in my dream was beginning to piss me off. There’s banging at my bedroom door and I assume I’ve been shouting in my sleep and Jet’s come to check if I’m okay. I’ve suffered from nightmares since the accident, I even walk as well as talk in my sleep.

My eyes open instantly as I hear a girl scream my name from outside my bedroom door, the same scream I thought I was dreaming a few minutes ago.

I jump up and unlock the door, its Lara, she’s naked and sobbing. What the f*ck has Jet done to her? Sometimes he goes too f*cking far with his freaky sex shit. I’m weird, but he blows anything my twisted brain can come up with right out of the water. It’s bad enough when it’s in a group, but when it’s just him and a girl together, they tend to get a little freaked out. Handcuffs, blindfold, ball gag and whips can be a bit too much all at once, for a girl that’s never tried it, especially one you’ve only met the night before.

Lara throws herself at me and I can feel her shake. “Reed,” she sobs and points to Jet’s room across the other side of the suite whilst shaking her head. I start to walk over to where she’s pointing when she says from behind me, “Don’t Reed. Don’t go in there.” I turn and look at her with a frown, then carry on making my way into Jet’s bedroom, calling his name as I do. He’s not in his bed, so I walk through to his bathroom. His room’s a replica of mine, with a huge sunken Roman bath in the centre of the en-suite, a walk in shower on one side, toilet on the other. I don’t see him in the bathroom, then as I turn to walk back through to the bedroom, I realise that the floor is wet. The bath is filled to the top with water and some has spilled over the sides.

But it’s red.

The water in the bath, the water on the tiles, is red.

Jet’s lying face up at the bottom, eyes wide, staring blankly at nothing.

“No, no, no.” I climb in and lift him up, screaming at Lara to call for help. Call for an ambulance, the paramedics, the police, any f*cker that might be able to help me. I call his name and slap his face. “What have you done? What the f*ck have you done?” He’s cut his wrists, but he’s not bleeding. Perhaps he didn’t cut deep enough? Perhaps the water’s just red from where he’s broken the skin? I notice that he’s blue around his mouth, so I hold his nose and start blowing in it. I don’t know first aid, but I’ve seen it done.

I blow into his mouth.

I pump his chest.

I slap his face.

I pump his chest.

I scream at him.

I shake him.

I hold him.

I rock him in my arms and I hold him tight.

I’ve no idea how long I’ve been sitting there when I hear a commotion and a policeman walks into the room, followed by two paramedics and another policeman. I don’t say a word as they take him from me and get to work. But I know. I’m not an expert and I have no idea what’s the correct way to find a pulse, but I know he doesn’t have one. I know he isn’t breathing and they don’t need to waste their time doing all that shit they are doing.

He’s dead.

Jet was gone.

He was dead.

The next few hours were a blur. Lawson arrived in our room, then Dom and Gunner. The police wouldn’t let me see anyone at first then Laws got a lawyer from somewhere and he sat with me while the police asked me questions. I might’ve been in shock, but I wasn’t stupid. I told them that I knew nothing; that we came back here after last night’s show, there were a few people hanging around, but I wasn’t in the mood to party so I went to bed. The next thing I know, Lara’s screaming and banging on my door. I assume Lara’s giving her statement somewhere and hopefully she’s saying something along the lines of what I am. Otherwise, we’re both f*cked.

Finally, Jet’s body is removed. The forensic team pack up their stuff and the police leave. I’m eventually allowed out of Jet’s bedroom, where I’ve been held since the police arrived. Swabs have been taken from under my fingernails and my prints were taken. I’m still only wearing my boxers and I’m freezing. I walk past Lawson and the boys, straight to my room and pull a hoodie and a pair of joggers from my case. I put them on while the boys all stand and watch.

Everybody is silent.

Jet’s dead!

He swallowed a bottle of around thirty Valium, washed them down with a bottle of Grey Goose and then just in case that didn’t work, he cut his wrists. As the Valium sent him off to a sleep that he’d never wake up from, he bled out around a quarter of the blood in his body until his heart just stopped. That’s what the forensic team are assuming, but they won’t know for sure until an autopsy is done. I’m amazed at how much info I took in from the paramedic’s conversation with the police. A conversation that I’m probably never likely to forget.