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My hand reaches into my pocket to pull my cell out, and I dial the only friend I’ve got. He picks up on the third ring again.
“I need …” I sniff, unsure why the tears are threatening, and then laugh sporadically as the colours keep blurring in front of me, blending. “Malachi?” No answer.
A sob bursts out of me, legs buckling under pressure I can’t contend with. Everything’s such a mess again. I’m heaving in breaths, unable to concentrate or think of ways forward. Maybe backwards would be better.
Or down.
Down, down, down.
Tap, tap, tap.
I dig in my pocket, grabbing out another few pills to swallow them down.
Down, down, down.
“He threw me out. Why? So horrible, Malachi. Harsh. Cold. Angry with me. I didn’t do anything to deserve that.” Still no answer. “And now I don’t know what to do anymore.”
My fingers tumble over rocks and pebbles, as a sigh comes back at me.
“Where are you, Hannah?”
I scratch the dirt with my fingers, letting them bounce on the gravel and grit. No rhythm. No tune. No thuds or taps. It’s all gone. All of it. I’m just here and nothing makes any sense and life is bleak and austere again. No heat. No heart. Dead. Like Rick.
“Hannah?”
“I don’t know,” mumbles out of me. “Don’t know where I am anymore.” Another sniff falters out of me, my cheek resting on the gravel and my fingers tapping. “Do any of us know where we are? I’m here, Malachi. There. No, not there. I’m just here. Thinking about dead men and dead feelings and death. Coffins.” The bottle of wine gets pulled to my mouth, sips pulled in as I keep staring at the floor. Dead. Like Rick. “I want to go home now, though.” I do. All the way home.
Planes and snow, cold and warmth.
Another pill gets pulled from my pocket. One more. I look at it. The red one this time. What harm can it do? Everything will make sense then. That’s what Faith said.
She said it’ll make it all go away.
It’ll blend and blur, distort and change.
Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.
“I’ve taken some pills. They’ll take me home, won’t they? I like the colour red.”
Maybe Gray will be there then. Maybe he’ll hold me and whisper words, lean his weight over me and keep the connection going rather than deny it. I’ll hear it then – the thud. It’ll come back, join with me. Shadows creeping across my skin. Warm shadows. Shadows that consume and captivate.
Lovely.
The bleeps from my cell signal the end of the call. I look at it, muddled, and realise the battery’s dead. Another sniff. Another laboured tap on the bottle, and I pull up tight into a ball. I’ll stay here for a while. Think. Maybe sleep. Die.
What does it matter anymore?
***
Heat slowly seeps into me. I snuggle up to it and breathe deeply, letting the warmth soothe and comfort my tired bones. I’m in a car, lights racing by outside the window. My eyes blink, mind trying to work out why I’m here. I was there, not here. I remember a voice – Gray’s voice. Sharp. Distinct. Saying my name. He said it over and over again.
Strong arms, spice, and his stubble.
And then it was gone.
And now I’m leaning on someone. I don’t know the smell, or recognise the sound of the muffled voice.
My head lifts weakly, an ache coming in my neck the second I do, and I twist my face to look at who I’m leant against. Blurred. Blond, though. He doesn’t smile at me. No kindness or sympathy. Just stares forwards and talks into a phone. “Yes, Sir,” he says. “We’re on route now.” Quiet for a few seconds, just the rumble of the car beneath us and the commotion of other traffic around us. “Yes, Sir. She’s fine. Cold, but fine. Seems it anyway.”
