Page 70 of Broken


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Tom’s hand settles on my shoulder, squeezing gently. “I need to get back downstairs, but I’ll come back when I get a minute. You know where to find me if you need anything.”

“Thanks.”

And so, I spend the rest of the day pacing the corridor, drinking disgusting vending machine coffee and feeling utterly fucking useless until Max reappears at kicking out time. He gives me a ride home, sounding almost guilty as he fills me in on James’ progress. Apparently, James spent most of the day refusing to talk, rejecting his meds, and sleeping.

I want to see him so desperately. His refusal hurts. The worry and confusion are suffocating. Is he ashamed? Does he blame me? Is he pushing me away for his sake or mine? These are merely a fraction of the questions that race around my mind on a loop throughout the night, and when morning rolls around, I snuggle with Tess for a while before getting myself ready for another day pacing corridors.

Day seven: James’ physical condition continues to improve. He still won’t see me.

Day eight: James has two psychiatric assessments carried out by two different doctors. His blood pressure started fluctuating during the night, but by the afternoon they manage to stabilise it again. He still won’t see me.

Day nine: His doctor puts in a request for a bed at the psychiatric unit. Since this news was broken to him, he hasn’t spoken a single word to anyone. He still won’t see me.

Day ten: As usual, I’m standing outside the ICU when Max tells me James is being transferred today.

“Will he see me before he leaves?” I ask, my voice weak with exhaustion.

Max shakes his head, looking anywhere but at me. “Maybe when he’s settled in.” He sounds as hopeless as I feel.

“Maybe.”

“You should go home for now. I’ll call you once he’s at the unit.”

He doesn’t say it directly, but I know he’s suggesting I leave so I don’t see James on his way out. I don’t have the strength to argue. I’m all out of fight. “Sure. Let him know…just tell him I love him.”

Max smiles. It’s a sad, sympathetic, smile, but I appreciate it nonetheless. “Will do.”

Head bowed, I leave the hospital. I’m not sure why it pops into my head, maybe because James is about to take another step closer to home, but his apartment suddenly becomes all I can think about. I don’t think anyone’s been since it happened, Max hasn’t mentioned it, and it needs cleaning. Part of me thinks it could destroy me going back there, but the other needs something to focus on. I need to keep busy. I can’t handle another day of sitting, pacing, waiting.

I’m on the bus, thankful to have a seat to myself, when Tess calls. I automatically note the time on the screen when her name flashes up and assume she’s on her lunch break. “Hey,” I answer.

“How is he today?”

“Still won’t see me.”

She sighs down the line. “Oh, T. I’m sorry. Where are you now?”

“I’m on the bus on my way to James’ apartment.”

“Why?”

“I’ve not had time to get my car fixed.”

“Not the bus, dickwad, why are you going to his apartment?”

“It needs cleaning. He can’t come home to how it is now.”

“You shouldn’t do that on your own. Where does he live? I can be there in half an hour.”

“I’ll be fine. Let’s face it, your boss doesn’t need another reason to sack you.”

“Pfft. He’s not in today anyway. Besides, I can’t help it if I get the shits. He wouldn’t want me to spread it to the rest of the staff, I’m sure.”

I’d laugh if that part of me hadn’t died. “Thanks, Tess, but I’m good. Promise. Gotta go, mine’s the next stop.”

“Okay. Catch you later.”

I told a tiny lie. My stop is ten minutes away but I can’t face talking any longer. When I talk, I cry, and if I cry any more my head will burst.

The noise on the bus grates on my nerves – the harsh engine, people laughing, a baby that won’t stop bleeding crying. On top of the already deafening thoughts running riot in my mind, it’s too much, so I twist my earphones into my ears and hit play with the button on the cord.

Demons by Imagine Dragons penetrates my ears and, shit, if this song wasn’t written for James. That’s when it hits me. Music. There’re hidden meanings and emotions in every song. I wonder if that’s why James listens to it so often. He relates to it, maybe uses it as a way to express the things he can’t say out loud. Perhaps I can get through to him that way.

My stop is nearing, so I’ll revisit that thought later.

I miss you.

The five minutes deep breathing and trying to steel my emotions outside the door to James’ apartment does shit to prepare me for what I’m about to see. When I walk inside, I’m right back to the day I found him, and I haven’t even reached the bathroom yet.

I literally shake myself off, cranking my neck from side to side, before treading cautiously to the bathroom. My eyes close as I round the corner, silently hoping Max has already been here and forgotten to tell me.

He hasn’t.

The stagnant water, coloured with James’ blood, still fills the bathtub. The towels Tom used to dry him off, again stained with blood, remain on the floor where he left them. Pieces of fried chicken and shrivelled fries litter the tiles and as far as I can see, only the empty pill bottles are missing, presumably taken by the paramedics.

For a while, all I can do is stare. Stare…and remember. After who knows how long, the entry buzzer snaps me out of the trance I’ve slipped into, but I don’t answer it straightaway. I can’t let anyone in here until this mess is gone.

But it sounds again.

And again.

“Hello?” I answer, my voice curt after stomping over to the receiver.

“Let me up, bellend.”

Tess. Her voice makes my lips curl into an almost-smile as I let her into the building. Hanging up the receiver, I open the door and wait for her. She appears from the lift opposite moments later in her work uniform – black joggers and a white t-shirt with the company logo sewn into it.

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