Nineteen

by E. S. Carter

  They feel so heavy, I do not have the strength or will to keep them open.

  I feel Liv’s soft lips press a light kiss to my cheek before giving in to my weariness and drifting off into the darkness again.

  Darkness.

  Sleep has evaded me for the last two nights, so I’ve lain awake in the darkness, only I’ve not been alone there. All I can hear are the muffled grunts of that twisted piece of shit echoing around the dank alley.

  All I can see are the angry bite marks to her beautiful body, the single tear that escapes her eye and slithers down her too soft skin . . . and her shoe . . . . I keep seeing that single bloody shoe.

  I couldn’t leave her that first night. I thought the hospital was going to forcefully evict me from its waiting room for pacing a hole through the worn, linoleum flooring.

  Her father seemed wary of mine and Nate’s presence, it took a lot of explaining from both Tallulah (who I’ve since found out her real name is Olivia, or Liv for short) and the police, to explain our roles in the incident that had his daughter, battered, broken and unconscious in hospital.

  It was only when she was out of resus and in her own room, that we were allowed in one at a time to see her.

  I think her Father only allowed me in as the police had proclaimed me a hero. That was after I had been eliminated from their enquiries by some security footage from the club and Liv, Nate & H’s witness statements. They warned me I may still face assault charges as the piece of shit needed to be hospitalised for his injuries but at this moment, I couldn’t give a flying fuck if they did charge me. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

  But hero? I was no hero.

  If he only knew that I had caused this pain to be inflicted on his daughter, I’m sure it wouldn’t be a hospital room I’d need, it would be a coffin.

  I walked into the small, private, room to the rhythmic sound of the monitors beeping and the hiss of the ventilator helping her breathe.

  The tube, they had told us, was a precaution. It was a way of taking the strain away from her battered brain, one less thing for it to have to control.

  She looks so small on the bed. Frail, damaged . . . broken.

  Her Father had spent the first hour or so in here with her, followed by Liv, so I had to wait well into Sunday afternoon before it was my chance to see her again.

  God she was beautiful.

  Even with half her head bound by dressings and a tube taped into her open mouth, her beauty still shone brighter than any I had ever seen.

  I stood there and wished she would open her eyes so I could drown in their depths again but she didn’t. There was no movement, except the slight rise and fall of her chest. Her body was stiff and posed into position. Seeing her lying there like that was . . . .well it was killing me.

  I had caused this and there was nothing I could do to make it right.

  My hand moved of its own volition, like my body needed to subconsciously touch her.

  I gently took her hand in one of mine and placed my other hand on top, effectively caging it in my touch. I wasn’t even aware that my fingers were skimming over her knuckles until her father walked back into the room, his first glance was to my hands caressing one of his daughters but I couldn’t have let go even if I had wanted to.

  It was only when the nurse came in and chastised us for crowding her room, complaining about us ignoring hospital policies, that I finally removed my hands from hers.

  The ache I felt at losing her touch was agonising. I wanted to stay and hold her until she wakes up.

  I wanted to tell her how much I’m sorry, to take away all of her pain but I know that once I leave here, I will never see her again.

  Walking towards the door, her father stops me again, pulling me into a brief but squeezing hug. Thanking me again for saving his daughter.

  I can’t even look at him, so I stare down at the floor. He will see the lie in my eyes, there would be no way to hide it from him, so I hide the lie instead.

  Nate hasn’t left Liv’s side, comforting her, holding her when she cries. I’ve never seen Nate like this with a woman before, maybe it’s the shared sense of grief and shock. Maybe they are forever bonded by this one event, like survivors of an epic tragedy, maybe it’s more than that and he genuinely wants to be here for her. Maybe.

  Nate takes Liv home so she can freshen up, she doesn’t want to leave but has given in to Nate’s persistent begging on the matter to appease him. I can’t leave yet though, I stay. My eyes focussed on the half drawn blinds to her room.

  Her father is in with her again, in fact he hasn’t left her direct vicinity, even to pee, since he rushed to the hospital in the early hours of Sunday morning. I remember his face clearly, his pained expression of panic, that look of sheer terror as Liv tried to explain what had happened to his beloved daughter.

  Watching a grown man crumple to the floor, the agony and heartbreak being expelled from his body through convulsing sobs, made me feel like a voyeur but I had to make myself watch. I had caused his despair and that of his daughter and watching was part of my punishment. Each of his sobs felt like a knife to my gut but still I watched.

  When Nate returned with Liv it was our time to leave. Walking away from her room was possibly, the single most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.

  My guilt and the need to see her again were woven together until I couldn’t tell one feeling from the other.

  Nate could see how conflicted I was.

  ‘We need to go Jake, we can come back tomorrow. We need to leave her with her family, she’s safe. You saved her’. He puts a strong arm around my shoulders and guides me down the corridor towards the stairs.

  I do not remember the taxi ride back to our place, from the moment I left the area outside her hospital room, to standing here under the hot torrent of my shower, is a blur.

  I stand under the almost scolding water for an indefinite amount of time, not washing, not moving, just standing there, frozen. A tap on the unlocked door rouses me somewhat.

  ‘Hey Jake, get some sleep bro. You need it’. He’s right I do need to sleep, weariness hits me like a ten ton truck.

  I do not even bother to fully dry myself before crawling into bed. I feel like I’ve gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, my body aches from the hair on my head to the joints of my toes.

  But sleep does not come. Eyes open or closed makes no difference to the images playing through my brain.

  Tuesday morning arrives and passes slowly. I do not remove myself from my room.

  I’ve tried to eat, tried to watch TV, tried to workout, all in the vain hope of making sleep come but still it evades me.

  Music, I need music. Turning on my DAB radio I scan through a few stations and come to a complete halt as the song ‘Wires’ by Athlete comes from the speaker, taking me straight back to her, straight back to the rhythmic hiss of the ventilator and the softness of her skin, when I held her hand in mine.

  FUCK! Get me out of here! I can’t fucking do this!!

  Throwing on an old pair of jeans, hoody and tatty baseball cap, I grab my car keys, phone, wallet and stride out of my bedroom, heading straight for the door.

  ‘Jake! Wait!’ Nate calls from the kitchen ‘You’ve got loads of messages here, your agent has been ringing non stop, something about a read through, she needs you to call her.’

  ‘Later’ I toss the word over my shoulder not looking back.

  I drive and drive, for what seems like hours. No purpose to the directions I take, no clue as to where I’m heading. The sky above is starting to darken, I must have driven the day away and yet I feel no escape from my thoughts. The images are still buzzing around in my brain.

  I pull over to the side of the road and turn off the engine. I know this is ridiculous, I know I need to find my way back to my reality and I will, once I can sleep.

  Finally taking in my surroundings, I realise I have stopped just yards from the entrance to the hospital.

  Even my subconscious has brought
me back to her.

  Why? Who was this girl to me? Yes we had shared a moment in Nate’s club. Yes I’d felt a connection far different to my usual stirrings of lust but for Christ’s sake, I do not even bloody know her!

  I mean she had even given me a fake name! There was no Scarlett, the girl who had seduced me on the dance floor. The girl lying in that bed was Emma but I knew that already didn’t I? I always knew the name did not go with her face, her eyes, her body, her innocence.

  ‘Emma’ hearing the name fall from my lips in my silent car felt right. She was Emma and I was nothing to her and certainly not her hero.

  Re-starting the car, I know what I need to do to get some relief; the same thing that always brings me relief.

  I need to get laid, bury myself deep in a woman until sleep finds me again.

  The light in the room is dim, covering everything in a slight haze.

  Although my eyelids still feel heavy, they open without too much of a struggle and I find it easier to focus without the bright light of day.

  Taking in my surroundings my gaze falls on a lone figure slumped in an uncomfortable looking, green, vinyl covered chair; my Dad.

  He’s asleep; his head is twisted at an almost unnatural looking angle that is sure to make him very stiff when he finally wakes.

  Scanning the rest of the room slowly, I see the monitors still switched on to my left and just behind them, on a low table, sit an extravagant bouquet of flowers in a large glass fishbowl.

  They are beautiful, if a tad over the top. I’m guessing they are from Liv.

  I shift slightly on my pillows and the dull ache to my head, combined with the sharp pain to my side, causes me to heave in an audible breath of air.

  My Father wakes up instantly at the sudden sound, a little disorientated at first, until he spots me looking over at him.

  ‘Pud, you’re awake! You’ve been sleeping for so long I must have drifted off’ a loving smile fills his face. ‘It’s so good to see you looking a little better baby, you have some colour in your cheeks at last!’

  He slowly stretches and gets up from his chair to sit at the side of my bed.

  Stroking the hair away from my forehead, he holds my hand in his and gazes thoughtfully down at me.

  ‘How are you feeling Pud? Can I get you a drink or call the nurse? Are you hungry?’

  ‘I’m OK Dad, I just feel really stiff, a little woozy and I really need to pee’ I say with a grimace.

  ‘I’ll get the nurse to help you, don’t go getting up on your own OK?’ he leaves the room immediately to find someone.

  Knowing how much the slight movements I have already made hurt, I tentatively lift myself a little more upright, placing both palms flat on the bed and trying to prop myself up with my arms.

  Bloody hell it hurts!

  Determined to at least be standing by the time he returns with a nurse I slowly move one leg, followed by the other and shift my body to allow them to dangle heavily off the bed.

  I’m not sure what hurts the most if I’m honest but I think the sharpness of the pain in my side, causing me to catch my breath, might just take the top prize!

  Garnering all my strength, I carefully push my body forward until both feet land flat on the floor, I reach up to use the IV stand as a crutch just as the door swings open and my father and a short, plump looking nurse enter.

  ‘What do you think you are doing young lady?’ the portly nurse glares at me, not looking very amused with my efforts.

  ‘I just wanted to pee’ I answer weakly, having used all my energy in getting into that position and no nearer the bathroom.

  ‘You should have waited for assistance, you will do yourself more damage if you pass out and hit your head again’ she really did sound pissed at my efforts.

  ‘Let’s get you back into your bed and I will get a bed pan for you to use until you are strong enough to go to the bathroom’ she says sternly as she manoeuvres her shoulder under my arm pit.

  ‘No please, I’d rather use the bathroom, I know I can do it if you can just help me get there’ I plead with her. I really do not want to use a bed pan, it feels as though I have lost most of my dignity and I desperately want to gain some back.

  ‘Pud please listen to the nurse, you are really weak at the moment and we just want to help you get better’ my Dads worried face comes into view on the opposite side to where the nurse still holds me.

  ‘Please let me try?’ I beg them both again.

  The nurse trades a glance with my father before speaking ‘OK if you think you can do it, you need to use both me and the IV stand as a prop and let me know straight away if you feel faint or are struggling in any way. OK?’

  A small smile finds my lips and I give an almost imperceptible nod.

  Getting to the bathroom is like walking up a steep hill while carrying a donkey on my back, a donkey who is repeatedly stabbing me in the side with a blunt knife and banging on my skull with a metal trash can lid. Yes it bloody hurts!

  The satisfaction of sitting on a toilet and relieving myself in private is totally worth it though and the arduous journey back to my bed feels a little easier, knowing I have conquered something they didn’t think I was ready for.

  My Father helps me back into bed, tucking the covers over me a bit too tightly, the same way he used to when I was little. The memory of bedtime stories, filled with comedy voices, makes me smile.

  ‘It’s good to see you smiling Pud, are you hungry now?’ having my Dad fret over me is starting to grate a little. I have never been one for enjoying fuss.

  ‘Dad I’m OK, please stop fussing’ the dejected look on his face stops me from frowning at him.

  ‘OK OK, I could do with a drink please but I am not sure I could stomach food just yet’.

  The small smile returns to his face and he fills a fresh cup with water, then attempts to guide it towards my mouth.

  ‘Dad it’s OK, please, I can do this myself’ I am trying hard not to get irritated with him but the constant faffing around was getting on my already frayed nerves.

  Realising I have snapped at him again I hastily add ‘I’m sorry Dad, I really am, I know you just want to help me and I am so grateful but I need to do this OK?’

  He looks defeated and sad ‘I know Pud, I’m sorry, I just want to help, you are my baby girl’.

  ‘I know Dad, I just want to go home, please let me do things for myself so I can get home sooner. I hate being here, it feels like it’s choking the life from me.’

  If possible my father’s already sombre looking face, drops further.

  I reach over the cool, cotton, sheet and rest my hand on his.

  ‘I love you Daddy, thanks for always looking after me’.

  He looks up at me, his eyes glassy and filled with sadness. ‘I will always look after you Pud, it’s my job’.

  Swallowing down my own sadness, I take a tiny sip of my water and drop my eyes to the bed. My fingers play with the slightly frayed edges of the blanket.

  ‘I do not remember anything Dad . . . . anything at all’. My voice is small and hesitant.

  The pain that flashes across my father’s eyes is followed by another emotion I very rarely see on his face; anger.

  ‘I’ve never wanted to kill someone before Pud, never. Seeing you after what that . . . . that bastard tried to do to you broke me. I swear if I ever see that piece of shits face, I will kill him, that I can promise you’.

  I have never heard my father curse . . ever. I have never heard him talk like that before and a knot forms deep in my stomach, making it churn, threatening to make me bring up my water.

  ‘I can never repay the two lads who saved you before he . . . before he managed to . . . do what he was trying to do to you’. His face contorts into sheer agony.

  ‘Especially Jake; He is your hero Pud and he gave that scumbag what he deserved’.

  I begin to sob uncontrollably, not because of what I could remember but because of what I couldn’t remember.

>   ‘Hush baby, I’ve got you.’ Strong arms wrap around me ‘It’s OK Pud, I’ve got you, you are safe now’.

  My Fathers soothing words and tender embrace cause the tears to fall even more quickly and I know he thinks I’m crying because it has all come back to me, when in fact, I’m terrified that it hasn’t because my imagination must be far worse than the actual truth.

  The light in the room is dim, covering everything in a slight haze.

  My hands make swift work of the zipper on her dress, the tiny scrap of gold, sequinned, fabric drops to her feet with a metallic, tinkling sound.

  She steps out of it and turns away from me, taking a step forward and bending at the waist to unbuckle the straps of her matching gold heels. Her legs are long, lithe and the most edible mocha colour, her body still only bent at the waist, allows me a completely unguarded view of that firm, round arse. Her tiny, red, lace, thong is riding dangerously between those appetising cheeks.

  One shoe drops to the floor and she leans to the other side to remove the other, glancing between her slightly spread legs and licking her lips at me in silent invitation.

  One step forward is all it takes for my hands to instantly find her hips, I pause for only a moment before skimming them down over her arse and enjoying the swell of firm flesh. I run a single finger over the lace of her thong from hip to hip and then follow the trail downwards, in between those supple cheeks.

  A deep murmur comes from her mouth and she begins to stand upright.

  Placing my other hand flat against her lower back, I angle her downwards so she is fully bent over with her legs dead straight.

  ‘Stay’ just one word, one command to let her know this was exactly how I wanted her.

  My finger continues its journey between her cheeks, then further down towards her hot, needy, flesh. I can feel the dampness through the lace of her knickers. Good she’s more than ready but I want to play first.