‘Hannah, for God’s sake wake up!’
The room eventually stops spinning. I can feel saliva, both wet and dry, all down the side of my face. I’m lying on my front but this time I’m in my own bedroom, thank God. Mum is once again ruining my sleep.
‘If you don’t respond I’ll call an ambulance!’
I’m drunk, there’s no doubt about that. Mum’s never seen me drunk before, I need to hide it. But I can’t lift my head off the mattress. Then she goes away and leaves me alone. Thank the Lord. I’m just about to drift off again when she throws water in my face. Some goes up my nose and some goes the wrong way down my throat. I sit up too fast and start choking. She hits me hard on the back. I’m covered in water. Then I notice I’m also sat in water. Oh God, don’t tell me I wet myself again?
‘I can’t believe you’re doing this. Do you know how nice it is to come home to find my daughter face down in her own urine and stinking of booze? Who bought it for you?’
Her voice is so shrill, it’s eating into my brain. She needs to chill out. ‘Please leave me alone.’
She’s standing right over me, invading my space and my thoughts. I feel disgusting. I can smell myself. But I really don’t have the energy to care about that right now.
‘How can I leave you alone? You’ve proved today that you can’t be trusted. Is this how things are going to be from now on? Wallowing in self-pity?’
I can’t stop myself from crying. Again. I’m going to break my tear ducts at this rate. Does she not realise that I don’t actually want to be drunk and sitting on a wet mattress with only broken memories of what might have happened at that bloke’s house? I need to block all this out. I need more sleeping tablets. Mum kneels down in front of me and puts her hands on mine.
‘Hannah. You need to talk to me; tell me how you’re feeling.’
‘I feel like SHIT! I can’t handle all this! I just want to DIE!’ It feels good to scream it all out loud, to release it from my throat. ‘Isn’t it obvious how I feel? And I’ve just done something really stupid.’
When I think about being at the flat with Steve, a massive cloud of dread hangs over me and kicks at my stomach. I don’t even know if he did anything. If he did, I could get pregnant or I could get HIV. How did I let it happen? How could he do that to someone who was so drunk? What a sick bastard. I can’t tell anyone though. I let him do it. And I’m not even sure what he did. Hopefully the sight of me passed out and drooling was enough to put him off doing anything. Oh God, why is this all happening to me? Mum’s face changes. She’s misunderstood what I meant.
‘Don’t worry, I can clean the mattress. Just get yourself cleaned up and then we’ll sit down and talk. Are you hungry?’
I know it will make her feel better to feed me. ‘A bit.’
‘I’ll run you a bath and then make us some dinner.’
She makes me look at her.
‘I know I can’t understand completely, but I’m not stupid. I know why you don’t want to be awake. But we’re going to get through this. I promise.’
Now she’s crying. God she’s so innocent. She doesn’t know the half of it. That’s what makes all this so much worse. If she did know that I killed Katie, she wouldn’t be comforting me. She probably wouldn’t even be talking to me. She leaves to run a bath. I try to take a deep breath in but there’s not enough oxygen in here.
When I get to the bathroom she’s added bubble bath and salts. It looks really inviting in an empty kind of way. That feeling of dread returns. It’s like I want to get into the soothing bath really bad but I don’t feel like I should because I shouldn’t be soothed, I don’t deserve a nice hot bubbly bath. But I really need it, my soul needs it and my muscles need it. Mum leaves me to it but asks me not to lock the door. She must think I’ll try to kill myself. I look in the wicker basket for our lady razors, but they’re not there. She’s hidden them from me. I wouldn’t do it that way anyway, that would be far too painful. I peel off my dirty clothes and can smell myself. How disgusting.
I sink into the bubbles and water. It’s so soothing on my skin. The bubbles are making tiny crackling noises as they burst. I lie back and submerge my whole head. The water washes off all my dry tears, saliva and sweat but not my sadness. I sit up slightly and stare at the taps at the other end of the bath. My foot touches the hot tap, which is scalding. Instead of pulling my foot away I keep it there for as long as I can, until it burns my skin. It’s so nice to feel something different, to have something different to focus on.
The last time I had a bath instead of a shower was when I got home after killing Katie. Nothing’s changed since then. I still feel as desperate as I did then, only now I have even more to worry about. Mum keeps saying things will get better over time but that was almost two weeks ago and things are just staying bad. I can’t even remember what I’ve done every day since she died. I know I didn’t leave the house. I remember sleeping a lot. And staring into the darkness a lot. I remember my eyes feeling really sore where I was forgetting to blink. I remember various visitors coming and going downstairs, but I didn’t venture out of my room to see anyone.
I still haven’t visited Katie today. I hope I do. I don’t want to let her down again. I make myself reach for the shampoo. I haven’t washed my hair for ages and I’ve got the type of hair that needs washing every day. The shampoo smells like before. It’s so weird that objects aren’t affected by what’s happened. I wash my hair for a minute or two and then wash my body really thoroughly. I need to wash him off me, to leave no reminder. Then I can forget it ever happened. Well, as long as I’m not pregnant or infected with something. Jesus Christ, my life literally can’t get any worse. Well, hopefully.
I lie back and force myself to consider my options. I could go to the police voluntarily and tell them everything; what happened that day and why we were really there. But Katie’s family would want revenge. They’d want me in prison. That would hurt mum. She would probably disown me and then have to move away to somewhere where no-one knows that her daughter is a murderer. My other option is to carry on saying nothing and try to rebuild my life. But then I remember the person who emailed me. If someone saw what happened and went to the police, I would definitely be arrested. Would I get a more lenient sentence if I admitted it voluntarily? Before they had a witness?
Another option is to run away. But I have no money and no transport. I would only consider running away with someone. But that someone is dead. The thought of killing myself is a back-up. It feels reassuring to have a back-up but I don’t want to use it yet. I’m not brave enough. All I can do for now is carry on and try to act normal in the hope that no-one ever finds out what happened. But acting normal takes so much effort.
Out of the corner of my eye I see something under the sink. My stomach flips. Thank God! It’s the blue hair bobble I was wearing that day. It must have fallen off me when I stripped off to get into the bath after I got home. I get out of the tub and pick it up. This tiny insignificant object is a connection to that awful day. I’ll never use it again, just like I’ll never wear those clothes again. I bury it deep down in the bin.
‘Dinner will be ready in five minutes love.’
‘I’m just getting out.’
I dress in my pyjamas as they’re the most comfortable clothes I own. I know as I pull them on that I won’t be visiting Katie. I chose them specifically so that I’m not dressed to leave the house. They’re clean, dry and soft on my skin. Mum was right; I do feel better for being clean. It feels like I’ve washed away a layer of guilt. I just need to find out how to wash away memories now. I look at myself in my mirror as I comb my wet long brown hair. I don’t want to look like this or feel like this. I’m going to have to start dealing with it. I spend the evening with mum in front of the TV. She massages my feet and makes sure we only watch comedies. I don’t find anything funny, but for a while, and for the first time in almost two weeks, my mind stops going around in circles and lets me relax. I fall asleep on the sofa.
>
Chapter 4
The next day is Sunday and I decide to sort my bedroom out. I’m not entirely convinced or distracted by my plan, but if I find things to do I won’t have time to visit Katie. I’m working on putting all my music into some kind of order, when the doorbell rings. My mind plays a nasty trick on me as, for a second or two, I assume its Katie. Then I remember and the familiar feeling of dread sets in. I open my door slightly to hear who it is. It’s Josh. He’s coming upstairs. Oh shit, my room’s a right tip and still smells rank. I quickly open my window. He knocks on my door so I have no choice but to open it.
‘Alright? Your mum said I could come up.’
I open the door wider to let him in. This is mortifyingly embarrassing, I’m still in my pyjamas. His eyes are puffy and he looks really tired. But then he spends all his spare time on computers so that’s how he normally looks. He’s wearing a red t-shirt with ‘Meh’ on it and some baggy jeans and skater trainers. Why am I noticing these things?
‘How’re you doing?’ I ask.
‘Fine. Well, you know. I just wondered when you were going to come over to reclaim your stuff from her room. Plus, mum still wants to talk to you. Probably to reminisce and listen to stories of how great Katie was.’
He sits on my bed. Thank God it’s dry and has clean bedding on.
‘Er, well I’ve not been feeling too good. That’s why I’m not dressed yet and my room is a mess. But, er, I will come ‘round.’
‘Mum says she doesn’t want to go through everything so dad thought it would be better if we did it. He’s already gone through some stuff and taken things that might upset mum if she sees them.’
‘Oh right. Er, can I do it when your parents are out?’
He nods like he totally gets it. ‘Yeah. They’re out today. They’ve gone to visit my aunt and uncle in Wales, they left yesterday morning. Mum needed to get out the house.’
‘How come you didn’t go?’
He looks down at the carpet. ‘It’s just that, well, all they do is talk about it. Over and over again. It’s not going to bring her back. I just get sick of hearing about it so I need a break from them. Mum thinks I’m going to kill myself but all I need is some space from them staring at me all the time. Do you know what I mean?’
I totally know what he means. ‘Yeah.’ Now there’s an awkward silence. I stand up. ‘So, shall I get dressed and we can go now?’
‘If you want. I’ll wait downstairs.’
I close my door behind him and quickly try to find something that’s clean and ironed in my wardrobe. That doesn’t leave me much choice. I make a mental note to put some washing in when I get back. I settle on some black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. Then I rub tinted moisturiser all over my face and add some mascara and lip salve to try to brighten my awful skin. Apart from the bath yesterday, I’ve not washed my face for ages either so I’m breaking out all over the place. When I go downstairs Josh is sat on the bottom step.
‘I’ll just tell mum where I’m going.’
He nods.
‘Mum, I’m going to Katie’s house-’ I stop myself. I look back at him and hope he didn’t notice. ‘I mean I’m going to Josh’s house to help sort through some stuff.’
She looks alarmed and turns away from the sink, where she’s washing dishes. She doesn’t work weekends. ‘Do you feel up to doing that? I can come with you or you could leave it for another day?’
I know she means well, but I feel kind of excited at the prospect of escaping this house and her worried face, and relieved at the prospect of breaking my new boring routine. She must need a break from me too. ‘I’ll be fine and if I’m not, I’ll call you.’
‘Okay then. Have you got your mobile?’
‘No, I don’t use that anymore. I’ll ring you from their landline if I need to.’
‘What do you mean you don’t use it anymore? Is it broken?’
Then she notices my face and guesses correctly that it’s because I’m getting messages off people from school. About Katie.
‘Never mind. Alright, I’ll see you later.’
Finally, she relaxes and lets me go. Josh is outside. I close the front door and walk a few steps behind him. It’s really warm and bright again. The sunlight beams into my eyes, even when I squint, but it feels good on my skin. It might dry up my new spots. The sun is always reassuring, as if nothing bad can happen in daylight. But I know that isn’t true. I learnt the hard way. I notice someone looking at me from the other side of the road so I walk with my head down and slightly closer to Josh.
After a few minutes, the silence feels weird. I can’t think of anything to say to him. Nothing would be appropriate really. I keep my mouth shut all the way to their house. Then, it’s only when I see their house that I remember where I’ve come and what I’m here for. As if there’s an invisible barrier around it, I suddenly stop. Why did I agree to come? I didn’t even realise what I’d agreed to, I didn’t think about what he was asking me. I can’t go in there. I can’t sit in her bedroom and go through her things. I’ve never been here without her before. Her room will look as if she’s not dead. It might still smell of her. What if her spirit is in there? What if I cry? Embarrassingly, I burst into tears before I even step foot in their front garden. Josh looks back at me and then quickly looks away. Great, now I’ve embarrassed him too.
‘I can’t.’
He turns around again and I see tears in his eyes.
‘That’s how I was after the funeral. I didn’t want to go back in. But you get used to it. Dad says it’ll become normal again eventually.’
That’s because your dad doesn’t care that she’s dead. I want to help him. I don’t want him to have to sit in her room and go through her stuff on his own. But how can I? I’m the reason he has to go through such an awful thing. I walk passed him, up to the front door. He leans over my shoulder to put the key in the lock. For a moment I feel his breath on my neck. It gives me goosebumps. I feel guilty for noticing. The door opens. The smell attacks me. She’s here. I can smell her. It’s dark. All the curtains are closed. And it’s cold. I feel like opening the windows to let some heat in.
‘Shall I open the curtains?’
‘If you want.’
It can’t be doing him any good to be in a dark, cold house on his own while his parents are away. So I open first the hallway and then the living room curtains. I turn around from the living room window to come face to face with Katie. Her parents have created what can only be called a shrine. Her school photos are covering almost every surface. Literally, every single school photo from the beginning. Then there are family photos and even photos of me and Katie together. Well, if I was looking to run away from thinking about her, I’ve come to the wrong place. I really shouldn’t be here. She’s probably angry. I hope to God she doesn’t come back as a poltergeist to get her revenge on me.
‘Coke?’
‘Yes please.’
He hands me a can and starts walking up the stairs. My feet feel like they’re being weighed down. I really don’t want to go up to her room. But I have to so I force myself to go to the bottom of the stairs. I look up at the shadows. It looks like upstairs is just as dark and depressing as downstairs was. Except, that’s where the ghost of my best friend will be.
‘Are you coming?’
I have absolutely no choice. I slowly climb the stairs, like I have a million times before but this time less sprightly, this time it takes a huge effort to pull my heavy feet up each step. At the top, I turn right and step into her bedroom. Josh is sat on her fluffy white carpet with a box in front of him. He’s put some music on low, a My Chemical Romance track; ‘Welcome to the black parade’. Maybe he was trying to look like the lead singer after all. This music is so Josh last year. It makes me remember walking passed his bedroom thousands of times to get to the bathroom and hearing that album playing whilst he was sat playing computer games at his desk. We used to make fun of his goth-slash-emo musical tastes. Now though, that kind of music is
appropriate. This particular song manages to be both depressing and upbeat at the same time. I guess it depends on how you’re feeling at the time as to which it seems to you. Today it’s definitely more depressing.
I enter the room and stand in front of him. I notice Katie’s bed is messy. She never made her bed, she’d just get in it at night how she left it the morning before. I bet her mum hasn’t touched it then. There’s a sealed see-through plastic bag on her bedside table with her mobile phone in. Oh my God. It’s got her rings and necklaces in too. The ones she was wearing on the day. This must be what the police gave back to her parents after she was identified. Oh shit, that’s disgusting. Those things, that mobile, they belong to that day. They took Katie away so why couldn’t they keep those things? Katie’s mum must have had a nervous breakdown when they gave her that bag. I can’t stop crying. I don’t want to see those things ever again, they were on her body for Christ Sakes! Her mobile phone will still show the missed call from me. Josh gets up and awkwardly puts his arms around me.
‘I’ll move it. You won’t have to see them again. Her phone kept ringing at first, like some sick kids at school were expecting her to answer it. So I turned it off. It needs throwing away but dad wanted to keep it so he could check the messages in case he can figure out what happened from them.’
The Girl Who Died: A Young Adult Novel Page 4