The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(33)

Tiger



I check the time; it’ll be almost six on a Saturday evening in England. He’s probably busy, or he might be at football; I know he likes to go and watch West Ham play when he can. He could be with a woman; my stomach rolls and my heart feels like it’s being squeezed at that thought. I light another cigarette to try to calm myself. My phone vibrates on the table, and I give out a little girly shriek as I jump, then giggle to myself. I smoke the rest of my cigarette before picking up my phone and opening the message.



Fuck, Kitten.

How are you, baby?



I burst into tears, finish my drink, and then go and climb into bed.



I’m a mess



I stagger into the bathroom, get the toilet roll and bring it back to bed with me. My phone buzzes.



Where the f*ck are you?

Are you safe?

Do you need me?



Do I need him? Fuck, I don’t know what I need. I’ve just had one of the most f*cked-up nights of my entire life and believe me, living the life I have, I’ve had some pretty f*cked-up nights. I’ve gone out with one man, had my Mildred licked by a woman and now I’m home, texting a different man. A man I f*cked while still married to my now-dead husband. What is wrong with me? I don’t want to be a bad person. I want to make good decisions; I don’t want to hurt or use anyone, but it’s all I ever seem to do. I wipe my running nose on the back of my arm as my phone rings. It’s Cam’s number, and I don’t know what to do. If I don’t answer, he will worry and probably get on to Bailey, and that will cause a whole other shit storm.

“Tiger.”

“Kitten?” My heart rate instantly quickens at the sound of his voice. I need to take a couple of those Valium I have in the drawer; they’ll calm me down.

“How the f*ck are you, Tiger?”

“Don’t swear, Kitten; it’s not nice.”

“I’m not nice; haven’t you realised that yet?” He’s quiet for a few seconds.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I’m far from okay. I’m a f*ckin’ mess.”

“Where are you? I want to see you.”

“You can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t; I’m too far away.”

“Where are you, Kitten? You’re scaring me.” I want to tell him, but it would do no good, and I’m a mess. I can’t think and I suddenly don’t want to talk anymore; I just want to go to sleep. I wish he was here, with his big body and his big laugh.

“I’m lost. I’m on my own. I’m where nobody can find me. I’m invisible and I miss you. I wish you were here; you would’ve stopped me. I think I told him that I love you. He laughed and it was you, your laugh, and I told him that I love you.” I can hear him saying my name, asking where I am, who I’m with, but I don’t want to talk anymore. I end the call, turn off my phone, take two Valium out of my bedside drawer to help me sleep and swallow them down with water from the bottle I left there a couple of nights ago. I stare at the little brown bottle of pills and think about taking the whole lot, and the thought stays in my head for a very split-second; just a split-second, but I don’t do it. My family needs me, and I can’t cause them any more pain. I throw the pills and the water on the floor and wait for sleep to take me; the last thought that goes through my mind is how much I hate myself and my life.





Chapter Ten


I jump, then attempt to drag my eyes open as I try to work out what’s going on around me. I can hear voices and I feel myself being lifted; my face is slapped, not hard but enough for me to feel it. I can hear Jackson calling my name, and I’m aware I’m being carried, but I just can’t open my eyes properly or string a sentence together. I stop trying to fight it, curl into Jackson’s chest and go back to sleep.



*



I know I’m in a hospital before I even open my eyes; I would know that smell anywhere. I hate it; that smell means only one thing to me: death.

My throat feels scratchy and my stomach and ribs ache. I lay still for a while longer, trying to process why I might possibly be in the hospital. The last thing I remember clearly is Roman dropping me off; he didn’t come in, and I showered.

Shit!

I spoke to Cam last night, I think.

I open my eyes and look around. It’s a standard hospital room; stark, white, and sterile. It smells of death, death and loss, and I really need to get out of here. I catch movement from the corner of my eye and realise Jackson is asleep in a chair next to my bed; he’s sitting exactly like Sean was when I woke up after we lost baby M, and exactly like Marley was when I lost Sean and Beau. I burst into tears. Jackson instantly lifts his head, and his eyes meet mine.

“What the f*ck did you do?” he asks through gritted teeth. I frown as I try and remember, but I can’t. What the f*ck did I do?

“I don’t know. I can’t remember. Did I hurt someone?” He stands abruptly, pushing his chair back noisily on the tiled floor.

“The pills, George! Why, why would you do that?” I have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“I don’t know what you mean, Jax. Please tell me, coz I can’t remember.” I’m wearing a horrible hospital night gown, and I use it to wipe my tears and my nose on. My tears and my nose; I remember wiping them last night. I was in bed crying; why the f*ck am I crying? Well, der, probably coz my life is a f*cking f*cked-up mess. I’m suddenly pissed off with Jackson, and I just want a straight answer.