Again in this chapter the viewpoints switch, and everything that’s Cheryl’s point of view is in italics
I run from the bathroom, my head spinning. All I can think about is Cheryl, left all alone in that huge house at night, left to her thoughts and bad dreams and the demons in her own head. I know that she needs me. I imagine her popping little white pills. Or her shaking fingers playing with silver foil and ash coloured powder before pressing a glinting needle into the soft tissue of her own flesh. A tiny bead of blood would trace down her arm, all the way to her wrist but by then she’d be gone. Or a gun, cocked at her temple, held by shaking hands. No. She wouldn’t have a gun, would she? Maybe she did, maybe it could already be too late...
I scramble towards the door, tripping over that other woman’s shoes and stubbing my toe. I swear loudly, and then drop to the floor, scrabbling around in the half-light for a t-shirt. He wakes, and the bed springs groan like an animal in pain as he sits up.
“Jane?” he calls blearily, his voice deep and his eyes still blurred by alcohol and sex and sleep. I don’t know who Jane is and I don’t bother to reply. My frantic fingers touch the soft, cool leather of the jacket he’d worn the night before. Without thinking I pull it on, and then look around desperately for some shoes. I won’t be able to run in my heels, and his shoes are all too big for me. I randomly pull out draws, and open the wardrobe. No shoes.
“What...” he murmurs, looking at me, then drops back down against the pillows.
“FCUK!” I shout, running my hands though my hair. There’s no time, I can’t wait, I have to get to her soon.
I open the bedroom door and slam it behind me. Hard. I fly down the stairs two at a time, and fumble with the lock on the front door. “Come on, COME ON!” I yell, and my fingers finally manage to open the door.
The humid, thick city air hits me like a brick wall. The night is fast and hot and alive. The sky is red as though it’s on fire, reflecting all of the lights of the city. Here there is no moonlight or stars or silence, just rushing cars and people. I feel the adrenaline surge through my body. I step out onto the rough pavement. I pull my phone out of the pocket of that other woman’s jeans, and call her.
“Come on, Chez, pick up babe...” I mutter, biting my lips. I start to smile when I hear her familiar Geordie accent, but it’s just a recorded message.
“Me phone’s off. So I’m either asleep or p!ssed. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you-BLEEP-”
“Chez, it’s me, Kim. Don’t do anything stupid babe, I’m so sorry, I’m coming, just don’t-don’t do anything, okay?” My voice breaks as I hang up. I look around. I have no idea where I am.
Then I start to run. The pavement hurts under my bare feet and people stare, but I don’t care. Cars fly past, headlights burning bright. My breath catches in my throat, tearing at my windpipe. My heart hammers like and war drum in my chest. I hear her name echoing around my head Cheryl, Cheryl, Cheryl... I feel vomit rise up in my throat, and I cough, swallowing it back down. What if I’m already too late? What if she’s...she’s...I can’t even think about it. But it’ll be my fault. My own stupid, selfish fault.
As I run, tears start to stream down my face, blurring all the car lights into one huge glowing golden mess.
I don’t bother taking off my clothes. I touch the water with the tip of my toe. It’s too cold, but that’ll numb me. I get in, resting the back of my head against the pearly white tub. I watch as the water turns my hair into black clouds around my body. I used to do this when I was a child, pretending to be in “A Little Mermaid.” I wonder if Sacha has seen that film. We should have watched it together. I sink lower into the water. It makes my white t-shirt turn see-though, and I can see the bruises on my ribs. It dyes my pink pants a deep rose colour. Goosebumps appear all over my skin, making me shudder. My body looks ghostlike, shimmering as the water moves. I look almost as white as the bath tub. It’s as though I’m already dead.
