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“This is wrong, baby girl…you can’t do this,” he whispers.
My eyes tear up. “Dad, nothing has ever felt so right..Don’t say that.”
Joshua gets a new bout of bravery. “Natasha is moving to LA with me,” he announces.
“Over my fucking dead body,” Brock screams.
Joshua glares at him. “Don’t temp me Marx,” he snaps.
Brock jumps up and knocks the chair over and runs at Josh and Cameron steps in the middle. Brock punches Cameron with full force and he falls over and everybody starts screaming for them to stop it. Joshua loses control and grabs Brock off Cameron and then punches Brock in the face. Bridget and I are screaming.
“Stop it now…Brock, no.”
From behind me I hear Margaret yelling. “John, John. Oh my god…John.” We all collectively turn to see my father slumped in Margaret’s arms and clutching his chest. Oh dear god.
“Call an ambulance,” I scream. Joshua and Brock still have a hold of each other, slamming into the wall, and the table tips over as they fall into it.
“Stop it now. Call an ambulance,” Joshua’s dad yells. Suddenly the room spins. What’s happening? I feel like I am having an out–of–body experience. I am in shock with no emotion. My dad is on the ground and Cameron is doing CPR frantically. My mum and Margaret are crying and holding each other. Bridget is screaming down the phone for an ambulance.
“What’s the address?” she screams. “What’s the address?” Even though she has lived at the house her whole childhood. Joshua is pacing with both of his hands on top of his head.
Cameron screams to Bridget. “Tell them it’s a heart attack. We need defibrillators urgently.” Oh dear god…please no. I drop to my knees and pray.
“Please god let him be ok…please god let him be ok…please god let him be ok.” The ambulance finally arrives and I run out to the road to show them the way. Cameron quickly fills them in on the situation and they run him to the ambulance. They shut the doors and I can hear Cameron call from inside…”Clear”…”Clear”… Oh my god they are trying to shock him back to life. I start to hold my head and scream “NO…No…No…This isn’t happening.”
The ambulance driver yells to my mum.
“Royal North Shore Hospital,” and they scream off. Everybody starts to run to cars, my family in one and Josh’s family in another. Josh comes over to me and puts his hand on my back.
“I will drive you,” he whispers.
“No. You stay away from her and the hospital. You fucking caused this,” Brock screams. “I swear to god I will kill you if you come anywhere near the hospital.”
I look at Joshua, my eyes wide with shock.
And this is the moment…you know the one in the front of the book. When I said the next thing I was going to do would change the course of my life, and would I still do it knowing heartbreak was imminent.
I know what I want to do. I want to go with Josh to the hospital but my family is all screaming at me to get into the car and Brock is so mad. I look again at Josh who is holding his hand out for me. “Natasha, you promised we would leave here together,” he whispers. I am crying hysterically with snot all over my face. This situation is totally out of control, totally fucked up. I hold my head, what do I do? I can’t handle this. My poor dad. I shake my head at him and get into the car with my mum and brother and sister and we scream away. I look back to see Joshua alone in the middle of the street…alone…I left him alone.
It’s been six weeks, six weeks since my beautiful father died. A death I caused. Blood is all over my hands.
I am in a living hell with no escape. I killed my own father, my own flesh and blood. I was in bed for a month—the pain too much to bear. I don’t even remember the funeral. The doctor had me so drugged up for stress, I was a walking zombie. I have stayed with my mother since Dad’s death. I don’t want her to be alone because of me. I have made her lose her soulmate and in turn I have lost mine. I haven’t spoken to my love Joshua since the day Dad died.
My life is a living hell and I have no one to blame but myself.
I wish I had died instead of my dad. It would be easier than living without him and my beautiful Josh. Crying myself to sleep every night. Dry–retching myself through every day. Grief…guilt…what a horrible…lonely combination of emotions. It is true, what they say. A broken heart really does hurt your chest. I feel like I can’t breathe.
I hope I don’t wake up tomorrow. I can’t go on like this.
It’s been eight weeks and I have finally gone back to work. Bridget, Abbie and my mother haven’t left my side since that dreaded day that is burned into my memory. My boss Henry and Simon have visited me daily and Henry offered me m
y job back. I was supposed to be moving to LA and had resigned. Cameron has also visited me every day since it happened. He has just sat at my bedside while I wept…sometimes for hours, or I lay and stared at the ceiling with no words. He too is suffering at the loss of his first patient, his uncle. I refuse to talk about Joshua. My father’s last words to me were, “This is wrong, baby girl, you can’t do this” and so I haven’t. I killed my father so I will do as he asked, even if it kills me. I have no doubt that it will. My mother has begged me again and again to go to Joshua, saying that Dad could not have borne seeing me like this. But I can’t do it, even though it’s killing me. It’s twelve o’clock and I am about to go to lunch when the receptionist comes in.
“Excuse me, Natasha. A Margaret Stanton is here to see you.” I roll my eyes. I don’t even have the strength to fight.
“Send her in,” I whisper.
Margaret walks through the door and takes one look at me and bursts into tears.
