'Back to Square One'

Chapter Two: Denial & F****** Panic Attacks!

THE front door creaks open, and I don't even need to lift my head to know it's Nia. I can hear her before she even makes it to the hallway. Her shuffle is unmistakable, quiet but purposeful. The off-key humming to the music hissing through her headphones gives her away. I can almost imagine her kicking off her Crocs and rearranging the already tidy corridor for no reason.

"Jade?" Nia's voice slices through my migraine, making it throb harder. I stay curled up on the cold bathroom tiles, the chill against my cheek oddly soothing, despite the mess around me.

The empty wine bottle. The pile of vomit. Yeah, I went too far last night.

"You can't still be sleeping?" Her voice feels distant, but her footsteps are already coming closer. "It's nearly eleven and—"

She stops short when she reaches the bathroom door, eyes narrowing. I can feel her trying to figure out if I'm dead or just dramatic.

"What the hell, Jade?" Nia mutters, gazing at the vomit before she crouches down beside me. Her expression is a mix of concern and shock, but I avoid looking at her, too dazed and probably still half-high. I'm struggling to remember how to breathe properly, let alone form words.

She sighs, long and deep. "You look like shit."

I croak out, "That's what I get for not crying for a year." It's the only defence I've got.

Nia stands and reaches for my arm, helping me up. There's no judgement, just that quiet concern that makes me feel like it's okay to be this much of a wreck. I try to pull myself up, but my body feels weak.

Pathetic.

I end up slumping back down, feeling useless. "I can clean up... I'm just kinda' fucked right now."

"Yeah, I can see that," Nia says, rolling her eyes, and landing me onto the toilet seat like I weigh nothing. "I'm surprised it took you this long to crack."

Our eyes drift to the vomit on the floor, then back to each other.

She looks at me, her eyes landing on the dried vomit streaking my black dress. "Let's get you out of these clothes. You stink bad."

I manage a weak smile, too defeated to argue. Nia makes quick work of stripping me down to my mismatched bra and knickers, her movements quick but gentle. As she wipes away the smeared makeup with a warm washcloth, I finally speak up.

"I didn't think it'd hit me like this," I whisper. "Thought I could just... firm it. Let it fade."

"Like you do with everything else?" Nia raises an eyebrow and scoffs. "Grief doesn't work like that, Jade. It's messy, uncomfortable, and painful. And trust me, it shows up when you least expect it." She says firmly, but her brown eyes are full of empathy as she swipes the last bit of my mascara.

"But you don't have to go through it alone, you know?"

Normally, I'd laugh it off, and banter her about getting all deep and emotional, but Nia's right. She's always right.

Her gaze stays on me, waiting for me to say something... anything. But all I do is nod, my throat tight, a lump forming.

"I love you, Nia," I mumble, stretching a forced smile, the words feeling heavy like they're enough for now, even though I can't fathom what's really on my mind.

Nia's smile is warm, a little sad, but reassuring. "I love you too, sis. Now jump in the shower. I'm gonna grab you some clean clothes."

I nod again, feeling a bit sober, only for a second.

Finally alone, even though the door's wide open, I step into the shower. The hot water slams against my brown skin, sending a shock through me and causing goosebumps that have no business being there. I lean into the cool tiles, letting the steam roll over me. I don't care that my natural hair is about to get drenched; I need this.