The Story of Me (Carnage #2)(36)

“I don’t know, Jax, I don’t know what I was thinking. I checked my messages on my phone, and for some reason, don’t ask me why, but I texted Cam.” As I speak, it all starts to come back to me.

“Cam, as in Cameron, the bloke you—”

“Yes,” I interrupt him.

“Why?” he asks.

“I don’t know… Something happened. During the night, something happened and it reminded me of him. I was… I felt lonely, and I don’t know, I just always felt safe with him. I just texted him and then he called me, but I can’t remember what was said.” I rack my brain, and I remember I was tired and just wanted to sleep; I just wanted to shut my brain up for a while.

And then it hits me.

Oh, shit.

The Valium.

My eyes shoot up and meet Jackson’s.

“I forgot,” I whisper.

“Forgot what?”

“I forgot that I took the Valium when I first got home. I drank the wine and my heart was still racing after I spoke to Cam, and my brain was just…” I shake my head as I try to think of what exactly was going on in my head last night, but I come up with nothing. “My brain just wouldn’t shut up.”

“And?”

“I took two Valium and went to sleep.”

“Two more Valium?”

I nod my head and close my eyes in shame. How could I have been so stupid? Well, I was, and now I have to face the consequences. I look back up at Jax; his shoulders slump, and I’m not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed.

“Fuck, George: weed, coke, Valium and wine; you could’ve killed yourself, darl.” I could. That easily, that stupidly. I could still be lying in my bed now; cold, dead, alone, but would that be any different to living? Then a thought strikes me.

“Why did you come over? What made you come to my place?”

“Bailey rang me. It must have been Cam who rang Bailey, said he had spoken to you on the phone and you didn’t sound right, but he didn’t know where you were so he couldn’t go and check on you. It was about six in the morning when I got to you. I broke the door down and all I saw…” He stops talking and rubs his hand over the stubble on his jaw. His eyes fill with tears, and I feel so guilty at what I’ve done; what I’ve once again put people I love through.

“Your arm was hanging off the side of the bed, you were at a horrible angle and there were pills all over the floor.” I cover my mouth with my hand and shake my head, trying to get the image from my brain. How must it have looked to Jackson? What must have been going through his mind when he walked in and saw me like that? “I slapped you, George. I slapped your face. I dragged you into the bathroom. I threw you into the shower and ran cold water on you. I stuck my fingers down your throat to make you vomit.” He stands up and paces the room as he talks then he stops and turns to look at me. “I don’t think I have ever been so angry in my life. After everything, George, after all the loss, all the devastation and heartbreak we’ve both been through, I couldn’t believe you would be so selfish and put me and your family through that.” He takes a few deep, calming breaths. “I probably slapped you harder than I should, so if your jaw or face hurt, I’m sorry.” I run my hand over my jaw and my cheek; they actually feel okay. I shrug and shake my head, trying to let him know it’s fine.

“I’m so sorry, Jackson. I’m sorry I put you through that, but please believe me, it was an accident; in no way did I intend harming myself.” I have so many thoughts running through my dysfunctional brain, so I stare blankly at him for a few seconds while I try to get them into some sort of order.

“How did I get to hospital?”

“Emily drove, while I held on to you and tried to wake you up.”

“What did you tell Bailey; have you rung him back?”

“Of course I rang him back; he was frantic, George. You’re f*cking lucky he didn’t tell your Dad and they’re not all on their way here now.”

“But what did you tell him?”

“I told him you were pissed and sleeping it off. I didn’t wanna scare anyone until I knew exactly what was going on. I didn’t want to tell him bad news until I was sure it was bad news. George…” He sits down on the side of my bed and lets out a big sigh. He closes his eyes and rubs at his temples with his fingertips. “I thought you were gonna die; I thought lots of things. You did a stupid thing, babe.”

I cover my face with my hands. How do I apologise for this one; another Georgia f*ck-up. “I think it’s time for me to go back to England.”

He pulls my hands from my face.

“You f*cked up, George. We all do it.” I can’t help but laugh.

“D’ya know how many times I’ve heard that, Jax? I’m always f*cking up. Everything about me is f*cked-up. I am just one big f*ck-up.”

“Now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself.” Before any more can be said, Nurse Eve and three doctors walk in.



*



By six on Sunday night, I’m back in my apartment above the bar. My blood pressure is still a little low, but apart from that, my stupidity has left me reasonably fine. It took a while to convince the doctors I was also mentally fit, but once they were reassured Jackson would take care of me, they let me go home.