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BEAU
Morning brought smells of fresh coffee and toast, and I moaned, pushing my head into the soft pillows on the bed.
This was not my bed, and for a moment, I forgot what had happened last night, but the memory of kisses, hands on my body and then the stench of stale tequila reminded me of just what had gone on at the club.
I patted around on the bedside table, finding my phone plugged in and charging. Bloody Marc, he was always so organised, always looking after me when I turned up here, usually in this state.
It was just after midday. I wasn’t sure how much I’d slept as I couldn’t remember even getting here, let alone what time, but I did know I had to work later. Work in that shit hole called Whispers with that bastard, Bernie. I had a message too, but I was in no fit state to read it right now.
I lay back on the bed, closing my eyes again. Five more minutes would do it, but a knock on the door, and in walked Ziggy looking like he’d not drunk a drop.
“Coffee and toast for you. Marc says you’re to eat and drink it all, and then you can come downstairs so we can talk. Oh, and here are some painkillers.”
He delved into his pocket and brought out a couple of tablets, watching as I swallowed them down with difficulty. I wasn’t good at taking them, but I just about managed.
“You can take a shower first, though. You stink!”
I managed to keep the coffee and bite of toast down, and stood underneath the hot spray, not entirely sure what they wanted to talk about. I couldn’t even remember what had been said last night, but it must have been something. Marc and Ziggy were usually happy to just drive me home. There was never usually a third degree.
But as I came down the stairs after dressing in some of Ziggy’s clothes, the sight that greeted me in the kitchen gave me cause for concern. Marc was leaning against the counter, his coffee cradled in his hands, a very serious look on his face.
“Sit down, Beau.” I looked across to Ziggy, hoping for some moral support, but he turned away, refusing to meet my gaze.
I sat at the table and waited to see what he had to say.
“Do you remember anything of what you said last night, Beau? Anything at all?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t remember anything. Tequila did that to you.
“You don’t remember talking about taking your own life then.” Marc stared at me, a searching look on his face.
Fuck, well, that wasn’t what I’d been expecting.
Did I remember talking about taking my own life?
I suppose that was the million-dollar question because in all honesty, I didn’t remember talking about it, but I did remember thinking about it. And no, I didn’t mean last night. This had been something that had been playing on repeat in my head since the first few times with Bernie.
When Megan had started to pull away, became distant with me, and when I’d decided the best thing I could do for her was to sell myself to my sleazy boss to keep her out of trouble. That thought had grown like a seed, slowly spreading its branches, the tendrils creeping into the crevices of my mind, spreading like ivy, clinging to my darkest thoughts and slowly squeezing the life out of me.
I must have said something last night, though. Marc was never usually this intense, and I presumed his training and his time with Ziggy meant he knew what he was talking about.
I knew there’d been times when Ziggy had thought about doing the same after his ordeal with Damian and Stuart, but with the loving support of Marc, he’d pulled through.
I picked at the paper napkin in front of me, shredding it to pieces so I didn’t have to face him, face the fact that, yes, I had considered taking my own life, more than once.
And that probably, unless something changed drastically, I would consider it again. I’d battled this darkness all my life, not just after our parents had died. Even as a child, I could remember listening to my heart beating in my ear when I lay down, wondering what would happen if it stopped.
And more recently, I’d looked at the waterfront, figuring that drowning was possibly the best way to go. I couldn’t do pills. I found them so hard to take, so that was a no-go. Drowning, though, I’d read if you just let it take you, let the water just fill your lungs, it’d be a painless way to go.
I hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not to anyone. I was ashamed of my feelings and of myself, ashamed I even had these thoughts when so many people wanted to live and all I wanted to do was just go, just not be here anymore, not have to endure these damaging notions that ran through my head on repeat.
“Beau.” Marc’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and my head snapped up. I looked at anything but him.
The scraping of a chair brought my attention back as he sat in front of me, still clutching his cup.
I felt Ziggy’s hand on my shoulder, felt its warmth. These were my friends, probably the only people to care if I did follow through on my often black musings, and that made me sad. To think that only two people really cared about me.
“Why didn’t you tell us how you were feeling?” Ziggy sat next to Marc, across the table from me.
