I stretch my legs out and rest my feet on the chair in front of me, but I’m twitchy; my heart and brain still racing. I go inside and find my phone; I have a number of text messages from Jim and Ash, apologising for their antics Friday night. I smile to myself as I read them and pour myself another wine while scrolling through all my messages until I find the one I want. I put my phone down on the table, drink my wine and light another cigarette. Other than the weed I’ve smoked lately, I’ve barely smoked the last couple of years. I’ve either been pregnant or trying for a baby, but since I’ve been in Australia, I haven’t stopped. It’s living on my own that does it. I’m not allowed to smoke at my mum’s; she just won’t have it. We all sneak out to the studio when we’re together, but if it’s just me, I don’t bother.
Just me.
On my own.
By myself.
That’s my life.
Alone.
I go back to the kitchen and bring the wine bottle back to the balcony. I pour another glass, emptying it, hoping the contents will help me forget the fucked-up circumstances of my life, just for a few hours.
I sit myself down in the chair. Drugs, smoking, drinking; the first two I need to stop completely. The last one I need to cut back on, and I will. Once I’m back in England, I will, but in the meantime, I light another as I sip my wine. I feel more relaxed now; in fact, I feel quite pissed. I’ve drunk almost a whole bottle of wine in less than an hour…
“Bad Georgia; bad, bad, Georgia,” I say aloud, then giggle to myself. The Valium’s obviously kicking in as I’m starting to feel fuzzy. I pick up my phone and look again at the message I received on my birthday; our conversation had been cut short by Sean’s flowers arriving, and I hadn’t gotten back to him since. I put out my cigarette and text one word…
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 fuck 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 fucked-up nights of my entire life and believe me, living the life I have, I’ve had some pretty fucked-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 fucked 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 fuck 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 fuckin’ 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 fuck did you do?” he asks through gritted teeth. I frown as I try and remember, but I can’t. What the fuck 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 fuck am I crying? Well, der, probably coz my life is a fucking fucked-up mess. I’m suddenly pissed off with Jackson, and I just want a straight answer.