God she had to wake up.
I couldn’t live like this, wondering if I would come home to her passed out or drugged up.
I’d thought we’d faced the hardest battle, but I’d been wrong.
Before, I thought she’d needed to fight to live her life, but seeing her fragile body once again traumatised and broken, it occurred to me that the reason she hadn’t lived her life was because didn’t want to live it. She didn’t have it in her to fight to stay alive. She’d given up.
She needed to be okay so we could start building her back up again, finding her confidence and giving her a reason to fight for her life.
I couldn’t let her slip under and disappear.
She needed to be okay.
This time, though, we would not be running away. It was time to end this shit. I needed her to stand by my side as I brought Doug’s empire crashing down so we could both be free of his shackles that directly or not had kept us both tied and bound.
She did come around, eventually.
She opened her eyes, looked at me and crumpled. She fell apart in front of me, and it broke me in two. I didn’t know if I could stand to look at her—to be there as the bottom of her world collapsed—but my heart took off in my chest and my body reacted of its own accord, moving to the bed and wrapping her up. I kissed the top of her head. I kissed her eyes and cheeks, and I cried into her hair. “Don’t you leave me, Johnson. Don’t you ever leave me. Do you hear me?” I felt her nod against my chest as she clung to the material of my T-shirt, and I held her like that until I was sure she knew exactly how much she meant to me—how much my life was not worth a fucking penny if she wasn't there to live it with me.
I refused to go home, sleeping in the high-backed plastic chair that squeaked each time I moved. I drank lukewarm coffee and ate pre-packed sandwiches when I remembered I was hungry. She remained under the watchful eye of the nurses due to the nature of her injuries, and the mental health team of course got involved: counselling was offered, medication was suggested…
“I’m fine. I’m not suicidal.”
I stood in the corner of the room and looked on as she eyeballed the professionals.
“I’m not. Okay? I just…” Turning her head my way, she spoke as if her explanation was for me, her voice lowering. “I needed a release. I needed to stop feeling.” She dropped her eyes to the bed, picking at imaginary threads on the blanket, and I glanced at the mental health nurse as he leaned forwards in his chair to speak to her.
“Will you consider speaking to someone?”
She didn’t look at him. “There’s nothing to say.”
“Sy, please?” I sat on the edge of her bed. “What about Chris?”
She shrugged. “She knows everything already.”
“But you trust her, right?”
“Yeah. I do.”
The nurse looked at me. “Is this a family member? A friend?”
“She was my counsellor, but I stopped seeing her.” Again, she directed her next words at me. “I’ll talk to her.”
I reached out and ran my knuckles down her cheek, giving her a small smile and letting her know I understood how difficult this was for her. She was sitting in front of a stranger, almost admitting defeat, but on top of that, she was still getting used to the idea of letting me in, sharing herself with me, and that was a big deal. I mouthed a ‘thank you’ for only her, and nodded at the nurse. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll make sure she makes an appointment.”
It was evening the following night when I finally got some time to talk to her. I was wary of broaching subjects that might fuel whatever desires had landed her in there in the first place, but we needed to start this new journey together with all cards laid face-up on the table.
“I went to see Doug.”
“Shit, Sy. Will you just stop and think bef—”
“I have a sister. She’s ten. Her name is Alice.”
I dipped my head apologetically. “I know.”
Fiddling with her fingers in her lap, she looked up at me. “I have to meet her.
I nodded. “You will.”
And I would make sure of it because it had to happen. Alice had Syra’s blood running through her veins and I believed that meant more to her than she would probably ever admit.
Syra
Falling Away by Glades
I WOKE FROM a deep sleep to the blinding lights of the hospital ward. By the look of the sky outside, it was mid-afternoon, the sun starting its descent in the sky.
Pushing up onto my elbow I reached out to grab the plastic cup of tepid water and took a sip before lying back down and turning onto my back, my eyes catching movement from the other side of my bed and my heart jumping into my mouth. “Jesus Christ, Mum. What the hell are you doing here?” I looked her up and down, her frail form hunched over in the chair that seemed to dwarf her. She was like a baby bird, bedraggled and skinny, needing to be fed and looked after. But there was something in her eyes I’d never seen before, at least not for a very long time. It was a sadness that almost swallowed me, and I blinked to try to escape from it.
“You were only six when I started my affair with him.” She kept her eyes downcast and her voice even. “It was a one night thing, or so I thought. Your Dad wasn’t there, we’d been partying and one thing led to another.”
I swallowed down the abrupt start to her confession and the feeling of betrayal, forcing myself to stay put and listen to her. I needed to hear it all because this story of my past was a pack of wolves at my heels, snapping and snarling and trying to catch up with me. It was time I slowed down and let them.
“I’d been in love with Victor every day since I was sixteen, and he had only ever had eyes for me. But after you were born, I struggled. He became a father, and our relationship changed. I loved you, but I struggled to share your father. I was needy and selfish and I wasn’t fair to him.” She glanced up at me, emotion filling each line of her face. “I planned to get rid of it—to have an abortion. I didn’t want my shame to ruin your life, or his, but your dad was adamant that I should keep it if I wanted to. He was a good man. He told me it was my body and that it was my decision.”
“So what made you keep it? Did you love Doug?”
She shrugged, cleaning her throat. “In my own way, I guess. At least I thought I did. And I kept it because I wanted a part of him I suppose.”
My stomach churned. “And did he love you?”
She gave a sad smile and shook her head. “I doubt it very much. I was swept up by the money and charm, and of course the drugs, but it took me a while to realise that.”
“But Dad had money and charm. And drugs, right? Why the need for Doug?”
Leaning forwards, her elbows on her thighs, she clasped near her mouth. “I don’t know. Why does anyone have an affair? Excitement? Change? Danger? I can’t give you an answer. I made a mistake.”
“A mistake that lasted three or four years.”
A sigh floated out of her chest. “I’m not trying to make excuses or justify what I did. I also can’t give you reasons because I don’t have any.”
She reached out, attempting to take my hand, and I pulled it away. I wasn’t ready for that, yet. “And what about the… what about Alice?”
“You know her name?”
“I went to see Doug. I told him I knew everything.”
Sitting back in the chair, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “Your dad demanded that I hid the pregnancy from you, and that when she was born, I was to hide the child. He was quite adamant that he wanted nothing to do with her, and that you shouldn’t be put through the trauma of finding out about her. He made it clear we were to remain a family for your sake, but that the baby, Alice, was to remain a completely separate part of my life.”
“How did you hide her from me?”
“Well, baggy clothes during the pregnancy. You were only nine, so it wasn’t too difficult. Once she was born, it became more difficu
lt. Doug wasn’t very helpful at first. He’d not wanted me to keep her, but of course she couldn’t live with us. His mother, Ruth, stepped in and went to live at his house, and she pretty much brought Alice up single-handedly. He told her some tale about me being too ill to look after her on my own, and she seemed to accept it. I visited every day when I could get away, and Ruth was always pleasant and welcoming, but then your father fell ill, and everything became a muddle.”
“You mean you started taking drugs more often?” I shook my head, closing my eyes. “So in reality, you neglected two children in favour of cocaine and heroin. Good job, Mum.” I’d almost heard enough, but the question of where Alice was now was still stuck in my throat. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Tears seemed to spring from nowhere in her eyes, and I felt a pang of jealousy zip through me. She’d not shown me any kind of tangible love for so long, yet there she was, almost crying for a child I’d never even met.
“She must have been about three years old. It was just before—”
“Before Dad died. Makes sense you’d give up on both of us at the same time. Jesus. That kid won’t even know she has a mother, let alone a sister. I don’t suppose you even know where she is.”
Mum shook her head and stood, sitting on the edge of my bed, her spindly fingers reaching out again to take mine. “I guess she might still live at Doug’s. I don’t know.” Something in her eyes made me hold still, and I watched them as she continued to talk. “You owe me nothing, Syra. I failed you, so many times, but I’ve never stopped loving you. I know those will seem like empty words right now, but you must believe me. I think about you every day, but I’m sick. I need help.” A tear trickled onto her cheek and she wiped it away quickly.
I had no idea how to respond to her. She’d been a stranger to me for so long, and I’d forgotten how to love her. “You have to want help, Mum. I can’t fix you.”
She nodded. “I know, darling. And I don’t know if I’m there yet. I know what I’m doing, but I don’t seem to be able to want to stop.”
Something about her last few words resonated loudly, deep inside of me, and for a few quiet moments, I felt like I could relate to her. We were both sick. We had the same illness, but with different symptoms. We were both grieving and both unable to handle the pain. Was I weak like Doug said? Did I get that from my father? Or was it in fact my mum who had passed on that gene? Jack kept telling me I was strong, but sitting in front of her, both of us the mirror image of one another aside from the colour of my eyes, I wasn’t too sure he was right.
I hadn’t fought at all. I had let my past drag me down because I’d had nothing to fight for. Everything that should have given me a reason to live life to the full was either gone or had let me down to the point where I didn’t know where else to go.
But now there was Jack.
And now there was Alice.
Was I like my mother in the fact that I knew I was sick but that I wasn’t ready to be fixed? Or could I pull myself out of this hole for them? I looked back at her and quietly repeated the words I’d just said to her. “You have to want help.”
And I realised that I did.
For Jack, for Alice and for myself. I wanted to get out of this pit of despair and build myself into the strong and capable woman Jack promised me I was, that I deserved to be and who Alice would want to have as a sister. I was determined I would not go down the same path as my mother.
I was going to fight.
***
“I’m scared.” I stared out of the windscreen as Jack drove us through town.
“You’re allowed to be scared, but this will be the hardest bit. I promise. It will all be over in no time, and then we just need to sit tight and let the police do their jobs.”
“We ran away so that we wouldn’t have to do this. You said you didn’t want me accidentally spilling the beans with any information I had on him, but now I’m about to disclose everything. We are completely contradicting ourselves.”
He pulled over on the side of the road and faced me, his ocean eyes swimming with concern. “I thought that if we put ourselves in a position where we ratted him out, we would be stupid. I was trying to protect you from Doug and his threats because I thought I could. But finding you on the bathroom floor… Syra you are everything to me, and you are not going to find peace until this story is wrapped up. I realised I can’t protect you from him, as much as I would try to. It’s not my job to keep you safe from the actions of a criminal. That’s the job of the authorities. It’s my job to protect you from the hurt that life has thrown at you, and that I can do, but only when I know you’re safe from him. I can’t live my life wondering what state I’m going to find you in when I get home, and if standing up to him is the first step, then then that’s what we are going to do.” He smoothed his hand over my hair and pulled me to him, planting a kiss on my forehead. “You’ve got this, Syra Johnson, because you’re the strongest person I know.”
I let out a long stream of breath and nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
He smiled. “I love you, you know?”
“I know. For some strange reason.” I smiled. “And I love you, too.”
He turned the engine back on and we arrived at the police station five minutes later. We were ushered into a small interview room, Jack with me this time, and I sat there for an hour reliving my own personal hell, answering questions and wiping away tears.
They questioned me about Doug and his lifestyle. I didn’t lie, but I only told them what I knew to be fact—things I had seen with my own eyes.
They already knew he was our landlord and that Jack worked for him.
They already knew about my dad and Jack’s dad.
Jack made it very clear to them that he knew Doug to be a dangerous criminal and that he was concerned for our safety.
I told them about Trent. I named him. I gave details about the times I had met him when waiting on Doug’s booth. I told them about the drugs, about how I had taken them and how I’d willingly slept with Trent on more than one occasion leading up to the birthday party.
Then I told them about the rape.
It was the first time I had detailed it, and I realised I was able to describe more than I thought. At the time, my voice had scampered away in fear, locked itself up tight and stopped me from screaming out, but I had known exactly what was happening to me. I’d fucked men when I hadn’t really wanted to before, but that night had been different.
It had been terrifying.
Jack sat by my side as I explained to the female officer what had happened, my hand wrapped tightly in his under the table, his jaw ticking in anger, and I realised this was the first time he’d heard it too. He relived it with me and he was as steady as a rock, giving me courage and urging me to spill it from my aching heart.
And after I’d stopped shaking and my tears ceased, I told them about Alice—about how she used to live in Doug’s house with her Grandma and how I needed to know where she was so that she would be protected from whatever happened once we left.
We walked slowly down the steps from the police station and Jack squeezed my hand placing a kiss on my temple. “You did good.”
I smiled, not sure I agreed with him. It had taken all of my strength to sit there and disclose what had happened to me. I wasn’t proud of the moments that had led me to Doug’s club, and saying them out loud had almost broken me. Jack’s words were a constant comfort, but my stomach was still churning with nerves and anxiety. I couldn’t help thinking there was still a whole load of shit that would try to beat us to the ground. I’d learned to expect the worst, and wasn’t convinced this would be any different. But as we started the engine, I looked back over my shoulder at the police station, and something about the pair of uniformed cops who climbed quickly into their car, screeching off with their blue lights flashing and siren whirring, allowed me to hope that the path ahead of me might just be a little smoother.
Syra
Bloodstream by Stateless
The Ocean by Mike Perry, SHY Martin
VISITING A FAMILIAR place for the first time in a while is an assault on the senses—smells, sounds and feelings rushing back to you with no warning—and stepping into Christine’s office had a lump forming in my throat.
“Syra, I’m so glad to see you.” She walked forwards and cupped my shoulder, smiling warmly, and I had to bite back the tears. She invited me to sit in the big orange armchair and made me cup of tea.
I’d always felt safe and welcome there, but I’d never really taken advantage of Christine’s expertise. I had fought against her and dodged her questions more often than not, but if I were to remain on that path to being well again, I was going to have to swallow my pride and pour it all out. Jack was waiting for me outside, and that in itself bolstered my courage and gave me an extra push to be the first to speak.
“I’ve done some stupid things recently.”
She picked up her pen and paper and I let her. I knew she was only doing her job and that keeping notes would help her to help me.
“Do you want to tell me about them?”
I crossed my legs in the chair and cradled my mug. “I’m embarrassed to, but I know that if I want to get better then I have to.” I paused, staring at the way my tea was still swirling slightly from where it had been stirred, and then looked up at her. “I’m with Jack now. We’re together.” I smiled a coy smile when her eyes widened and brightened slightly. She rarely showed emotion, always the professional and never wanting to push her thoughts or feelings onto me, but I could tell she was genuinely invested in my happiness and that the news had pleased her.
“Do you want to start there?”
I nodded. “He saved me.”
“How did he save you?”
“He’s saved me so many times.” I dropped my legs to the floor and leaned over them, taking a sip from my mug. “He found me and gave me a home, he saved my life twice, and he’s still saving me every day in the way he loves me. I think he’s always been saving me, but I’ve never noticed until now. I never thought I was good enough. I was self-destructive and didn’t care what happened to me. I hurt him. I pushed him away, and he left. I sank deeper than I’d ever been before but he still came back to find me, picking me up, protecting me from myself. He’s wrapped me up and held me close without me really realising it.”
Too Good Girl Page 24