by Angela Mack
I perched on the bed by Izzy’s side and tried to stroke her face, her hand, her arm. My hands slipped through her every single time.
“Sorry I wasn’t there for you tonight, baby,” I whispered.
A couple hours later, they moved Izzy from A&E to a room on a ward. Her room was at the very end of the children’s ward, with only the double doors and a small stretch of corridor separating it from Big Mike’s room. Her being so close to him left a bad taste in my mouth, even if he was hand-cuffed to the bed with police guarding his room. I didn’t want her anywhere near that soulless monster.
“Hey. How’s Izzy doing?” Ryan ducked his head into Izzy's room. I hadn’t left her side the entire time. The early morning sunlight streamed through her window, lighting up her face. She had a much better colour.
“They’ve been checking her regularly. She finally stopped throwing up in her sleep about an hour or so ago. And they took her IV out. I heard them tell Sammy that she should wake up soon. How’s Georgie?” Ryan had been keeping watch over Georgie whilst he slept.
“He had a nightmare. Charlie and Sammy were in here with Izzy and although Ollie was asleep in the chair right next to your bed, he slept through Georgie’s cries.” Ryan looked sad, scuffing his feet along the floor. I felt a stab of guilt.
“He climbed into bed with you though,” Ryan smiled. “He’s been fine ever since.” So that was why my right arm and side had been tingling on and off for the past few hours.
“Well, Izzy’s doing fine now. Let’s go see him.” I tried one last time to squeeze Izzy’s hand but no luck. Ryan laughed at me and rolled his eyes as we left Izzy’s room.
“Don’t laugh at me! You’re the one who keeps closing a bloody curtain. How can you do that, yet I can’t hold Izzy’s hand?”
“I told you. You need to have a really strong feeling for it to work,” Ryan smirked, proud that he could do something I couldn’t. I huffed at him, trying to ignore the fact that the emotion allowing him to move the curtain, was fear.
We strolled into our room and my heart melted. Georgie had crawled under the covers with me and was tucked under one of my arms, his head on my chest. We watched him sleep for a few minutes in silence.
“Josh? Are you OK?” Ryan peered up at me, frowning. I roughly palmed the tears away that had escaped.
“Yeah, fine, Ry. I just really miss him. I miss them all,” I whispered. I looked to Ryan, hope in my eyes.
“Josh, no. Don’t start that again. I told you. I can’t go back.” Ryan crossed his arms.
“How much more time do you need, Ryan? How much longer? Look, I’ll stay with you as long as you need, but just give me a rough timeline, mate. Please.” I closed my eyes, rubbing my face, trying not to get angry with him. I knew he was scared to go back, but this was killing me. I wanted to go home.
“Josh, I―” He stopped when someone walked into the room.
“Oh great, what does this dipshit want now?” I growled. Deborah Meadows walked through Ryan and paused at the foot of my bed. She looked at Georgie, tutting and shaking her head.
“Who’s she? What’s her problem?” Ryan asked, concern wrinkling his brow.
“She’s called Deborah. She’s a social worker. Seems to have it in for Sammy and Charlie,” I spat out. Why was this bitch here? It wasn't even 6 a.m. yet! She couldn’t be working, surely? Deborah grabbed her phone from her pocket, tapping the screen before lifting it to her ear. I edged close to her, so I could hear the person on the other end.
“Hello?” someone answered.
“Yes, it’s me. My informant was right.” Informant? You're not a fucking spy for Christ’s sake!
“And where is George Bugg now?” the person responded. It sounded like a bloke. And it’s Georgie, not George. Dick.
“He’s currently in bed with one of his brothers. Unattended.” Alarm bells started sounding in my head. Deborah paused as Nurse Westcott entered the room. Yes! She would make Deborah go away. But Nurse Westcott didn’t say anything. In fact, she looked nervous. She turned on her heels and left without saying a word to Deborah. Shit.
“OK, well you have probable cause to suspect neglect”―there was that fucking word again―“so remove the boy from the vicinity and bring him back to the home. We can re-evaluate his guardianship arrangement and he can stay with us until it is resolved.”
“Sir? Remove him?”
“You said he was sleeping, didn’t you? And he’s what, nine years old? Just pick him up and carry him out of there.” Shit, shit, shit. I locked eyes with Ryan. This was bad.
“Um, I’m not sure―”
“Do you or do you not genuinely fear for this boy’s safety?” Deborah didn’t answer straight away. “Deborah. You had better genuinely fear for his safety, or why else would you ring me at 4 a.m. this morning telling me you’d been right about the Johnson’s all along?” The guy on the phone sounded pissed.
“Yes sir. Er, their daughter was brought in for alcohol poisoning so they’re um, clearly not fit to act as guardians for Georgie right now.” Deborah sounded as if she was trying to convince herself as well as the guy on the phone. “And now they are nowhere to be found and Georgie is on his own.” He wasn't on his own! Ollie was right over there. Ollie, wake the fuck up! But Ollie was still slumped in the armchair by my bedside, snoring softly.
“So. Do. Your. Job. Deborah. Take the boy into our custody.” The guy hung up. Deborah flinched, staring at her phone.
Shit. We’ve got to do something. I raked my hands through my hair, trying to come up with a plan. Deborah shuffled towards Georgie, her eyes flicking over to Ollie. Come on, come on. Wake up! She held her arms out, trying to work out how she was going to pick Georgie up.
“I’ve got to...got to…” I looked from Ryan to Georgie, and back again. “We’ve got to wake up, Ryan. It’s the only way.” I stepped towards him and grabbed his shoulders. He shook his head at me, terror clouding his eyes.
“Ryan, listen to me. I need to wake up right now or that bitch is going to take Georgie away. We need to go back, brother.” I tightened my grip, my thumbs digging into him.
“Josh, I can’t―”
“Yes, you can. You can!” I heard Georgie groan behind me, and I swung my gaze over to him. Deborah was trying to tug him out of the bed, but he wrapped his arm around my body tighter, holding on. I winced as pins and needles spread all over my abdomen. He still had his eyes closed, unaware of what was happening.
“Ryan! Come on! Georgie needs us,” I urged, but he shook his head again. I bent over so my eyes were level with his.
“Please, Ryan. I can’t let her take Georgie.” Ryan smiled at me as he began to cry. “Go,” he whispered.
“I’m not...Ryan…”
“Go back, Josh. We both know that the only reason you’ve been hanging around here is for me. Go.”
“Hey. Leave me alone,” Georgie yawned, starting to wake up. He batted Deborah away with his free hand before rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Georgie, come on. You’re not safe here,” Deborah whispered to him, eyes fixed on Ollie. He still hadn't fucking moved. Deborah snatched Georgie’s hand and tried to pull him from the bed.
“Josh, it’s OK. Honestly. Go.” Ryan was still smiling at me, but I shook my head. I couldn’t leave him.
“I can’t leave you. Just come back with me, please Ry. Please,” I begged. Ryan threw himself at me, burying his head into my chest.
“I’m sorry, Josh, but I can’t go back. It’s my time." He sounded so calm. Why was he so fucking calm?
“Get off me!” I looked at Georgie over the top of Ryan’s head. He had panic in his eyes as he started to slip from my bed. I took a step towards him, pulling Ryan with me. He pulled away from me.
“Quick, Josh! Save Georgie!” Ryan rubbed the tears from his eyes, shoving me towards Georgie. My head felt like it was going to twist off my neck, I was swivelling it between Ryan and Georgie so much. How could I choose between them? How was I suppos
ed to choose which brother to save?
“Don’t make me choose, Ryan. Please. I’m begging you,” I sobbed. I reached a hand out to him and he grasped it tightly.
“It’s not your choice, Josh. It’s mine.” He squeezed my hand before letting go, stepping away from me. He took another step back. And another.
“Tell Georgie I love him. And the rest of them. I love them too." His smile took over his whole face, beaming at me through his tears. He looked so certain. He was absolutely sure that this was the right thing to do, that it was what he wanted.
“Josh! Josh! Help!” Georgie shouted to me. Deborah had hold of his arm and was trying to pull him away from my bed. I itched to reach out my real hand and grab hold of him.
“His hand! His hand! It just moved. Let go of me!” Georgie was screaming now. Ollie started to stir.
“Georgie be quiet. His hand did not just move, don’t be ridiculous.” Georgie tumbled out of the bed, his fingers clinging to my hand. I looked over at Ryan, feeling like my chest was going to collapse. I knew what I had to do. But I really didn’t fucking want to do it. It wasn't fair. I ran at Ryan, picking him up and crushing him to me.
“I love you so much, Ry.” My tears rained down on him like bullets, like I was the one murdering him.
“I love you too, brother.” My fingertips began to burn as Georgie held on with all his strength. I let go of Ryan, setting him on the floor. I used both hands to rub the tears away from his cheeks, cupping his face. We looked into each other’s eyes and I tried to communicate with that one look how much I loved him. How lost I was going to be without him.
“Josh!” Georgie wailed and before I could change my mind, I took a running dive at my body.
Chapter 17
Isabel
Oh, God. Oh, shit. Ouch. I felt like a train had ploughed into me at a thousand miles per hour. My head was killing me. I opened one eye, peeking out. Oh shiiiit. I was in the hospital. Nice going, Izzy. Real nice. I racked my brains, trying to remember last night.
“Oh look. Sleeping Beauty is awake.” I peeled open my other eye and saw Mum in the doorway of my room. She was sipping from a takeaway coffee cup, her eyebrows raised. Dad was behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist, smirking. I groaned, covering my face with my hands. I tried to sit up, but the room was spinning. I was going to throw up.
Mum put her coffee down on my bedside table and grabbed a small remote. My bed began to rise into a sitting position. She fluffed the pillows behind me, sighing. Dad held out a glass of water to me, a straw touching my lips. I sipped it without holding the glass.
“Stop being so nice to me,” I croaked. Dad sniggered.
“I have a feeling that no matter what we say or do right now, it’s not going to make you feel any worse than what you already do.”
“Isabel Johnson, you are such a pain in the arse!” I winced at Mum using my full name―she must be pissed. “But right now, I’m just glad you’re OK.” She leaned over to give me a hug. I gagged, the movement making my nausea return with a vengeance. Dad laughed again before shoving a cardboard bowl under my chin. I grabbed it, retching. Why, oh why, had I thought it was a good idea to have those Jägerbombs? Had I really needed eight of them? Or was it nine?
“I bought you some new clothes. There’s a twenty-four-hour Tesco opposite the hospital, thank heavens.” Mum put a plastic bag of clothing on my bed.
“Thanks. I um, need to go to the loo.” I shuffled around so my legs were hanging off the side of the bed. I paused, waiting for the dizziness to subside. Mum looped her arm through one of mine, tugging me to my feet. I clutched the bag of clothes and together we hobbled to the bathroom opposite my bed. Oh, sweet Jesus, it had a shower!
“Are you going to be OK? Do you need a hand?” Mum looked at me with such concern in her eyes that I got a little choked up. I threw my arms around her.
“Sorry I’m such a fuck-up,” I mumbled into her shoulder.
“Oh honey, you are not a fuck-up. You’re a teenager,” she chuckled. I nodded, wiping snot away with my sleeve. I felt so gross. And I was feeling extremely sorry for myself. Stupid Jägerbombs.
“Stupid Ollie,” I muttered, walking into the bathroom.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that. He’s the one that got you here and has been in the hospital all night. He fell asleep next to Josh in a chair.” Mum cocked an eyebrow. Urgh, I was a terrible person. I shut the bathroom door behind me, a little harder than I intended to, and slumped against the sink. I splashed cold water onto my face, staring at my reflection in the mirror. God, I looked horrendous. My mascara had smudged around my eyes and I tried to avoid looking at the clumps of gunk in my hair. Disgusting.
I stumbled into the shower, my stomach churning. I spied a plastic chair and said a silent thank you to whoever decided that hospital showers should be equipped with chairs. I dragged the chair so that it sat directly underneath the shower head. I turned the water up as hot as I could stand it, letting the water beat down on my back. My feet were either side of the drain and I stared as the water swirled around them before disappearing. A tangy smell wafted out of the drain and I tried not to gag again. It reminded me of the stink bombs that had gone around school a year or so ago. I thought back, remembering the incident outside of English that time.
Everyone was queuing up outside our English class. As per usual, I was at the very back of the line, my headphones in, staring at the floor. I was trying to be as invisible as possible. Ellie and a group of girls were at the front, right by the classroom door. They kept snickering and stealing glances at me. I hung my head even lower, avoiding eye contact at all costs. I snuck a look at my watch, praying that our teacher would hurry up. She was already five minutes late.
“Oh my gosh, what is that awful smell?” Ellie asked with over-the-top disgust. I turned the volume up on my phone, the music blaring in my ear. I didn’t want to hear her cruel taunts. But that was a mistake. Maybe if I hadn’t tried to block her out, I’d have had some kind of warning about what she was going to do. The next thing I knew, a tiny glass vial was lobbed through the air and it smashed at my feet, liquid spraying over my shoes and up my legs. I yanked my headphones out, staring from my feet to Ellie in disbelief.
“Isabel! Don’t you ever wash? You smell revolting!” Ellie pinched her nose, all her friends following suit. Everyone in the line turned to laugh at me. Every. Single Person. I turned, feeling something hit me right between the shoulder blades as I fled. Although the second stink bomb hadn’t broken, it still spilled all over my jumper and parts of my hair. I ran all the way home, vicious laughter echoing in my ears. Mum and Dad were both at work, so I managed to avoid telling them what had happened. I had to wash my hair three times to get the smell out. And I had to chuck out my school shoes―there was no hope of getting the smell out of those. Afterwards, I had stayed up until 2 a.m. reading, trying to get lost in someone else’s world instead of living in my cruel one. It was the only way I managed to find the courage to get up and go to school the next day. I’d relive my favourite moments in my head, using them to block out what was happening around me.
I sniffled, the memory triggering feelings of shame and despair. Get a hold of yourself. You’re just feeling emotional ‘cos your hanging out your arse! I shook myself, straightening up. I shut off the shower, reaching for a towel as I hopped out. I patted myself dry―kind of, my nausea was returning―before dragging on the leggings and oversized t-shirt Mum had purchased for me. She’d even had the foresight to buy me some new underwear, trainer socks and a plain black, Converse-style pair of trainers. I sighed as soon as I was dressed, feeling slightly more human.
“Hey. I brought you some toast,” Dad said as I emerged. I eyed the toast, a sudden attack of queasiness making me grimace.
“You’ll feel better if you eat. You need something to line your stomach again after all that throwing up.” I gingerly took a piece of toast by the corner, attempting to nibble at it. Mum handed me an orange juice and I downed
it in one.
“I feel...bloody awful,” I muttered.
“That’s karma, honey.” Mum beamed at me. I squinted my eyes at her, knowing she was enjoying my discomfort far too much.
“Samantha? Charlie? You better come quick. The social worker is snooping around. She heard what happened with Izzy.” Nurse Westcott stood in the doorway. We'd gotten to know most of the nurses on the children's ward since we'd all spent so much time here, but Nurse Westcott was my favourite. She might be short and dumpy, but she was no push-over. The other nurses always busied themselves whenever she was around, but she had a soft spot for Georgie. She was always sneaking him sweets or jelly. She and Mum had also bonded, but that was Mum all over; she could get on with anyone if she wanted to. Nurse Westcott always made sure the doctors gave us an update as often as possible. Not that there was much to update us on lately.
Instead of her usual stoic expression however, she looked worried as she wrung her hands in front of her. Shit. Mum and Dad exchanged anxious looks before jumping out of their seats. I scrambled out of bed too, forcing myself to ignore the nausea and my light-headedness.
“Izzy, it may be better if you stay here―”
“No, no. I’ll explain it was all my fault. It was nothing to do with you,” I interrupted Mum. She didn’t respond as she and Dad broke into a jog, me following closely behind.
“Josh!”
“Is that Georgie?” Mum asked. She and Dad both sprinted towards the sound of him screaming. They barrelled into the room and stopped dead. I crashed into the back of Dad and he threw an arm out, steadying me. I spotted Deborah standing at the foot of Josh’s bed, her mouth open, staring. Ollie was sprawled in a chair next to the bed. His eyes were wide as he reached over to his left arm, pinching himself. I looked to where both he and Deborah were staring.