Score: House Of Cards - BTS
Lydia
"How are you feeling, baby?" Alex is stroking my wet hair, her eyes full of pity.
I hate pity!
We're sitting around the island in Gloria's kitchen. After Mark and Patrick left, Gloria, Alex, and Nate picked me up from the mud and took me inside the house. Alex shoved me into the shower and I just stood there, under the hot water, until she came back to drag me out. She and Gloria wrapped me up in a warm dressing gown and took me to the kitchen, where a steaming mug of tea was pushed into my hands.
I'm grateful for all their effort, but, really, the only thing I want right now, is to be left alone. I need space and time to process things. I feel like I'm walking in a dream. Like I don't have a will of my own, and my body is automatically following someone else's commands.
"Nothing. I feel...nothing," I say, trying to convince myself more than anyone else.
Because I do feel something. I feel all sorts of things. And I don't want to feel any of them.
I feel the absence of my heart. I feel the bleeding nothingness, where my heart used to be.
Fuck having your heart broken. Like everything else in my life, this, too, couldn't be mundane, and ordinary, and boring...Mark couldn't just break my heart. No. The motherfucker had to rip it out of my chest, throw it on the ground and stomp it.
I feel the goosebumps, rising on my skin, making me all prickly to the rest of the world, warning anyone who wants to come close to me to fuck off because I want to be left alone. And I can actually feel the resistance my brain is putting up against the torrents of unwanted thoughts, threatening to let loose in my head and drive me completely insane.
So, yeah. I'm feeling things. And it sucks.
"I'm so sorry, Lyds," Nate says, reaching with his hand for my arm, but Alex slaps his hand and he retrieves it.
"Haven't you done enough already?" She hisses, the icicles in her voice pinning Nate to his stool. His jaw falls open and his eyes go wide as if he's not sure what to make of the situation.
"Babe, I'm sorry, I had to tell her," he begins, but trails off when his eyes meet her murderous glare.
"Yeah, you should have, you idiot! Two fucking years ago," Alex spits. "How could you keep this from me, all this time? You know she's my best friend!"
"I know! But I never thought things would go this far, and I never thought Mark would actually come back!"
"But he did! And you knew they'd been hooking up since Gloria's fucking birthday party! Didn't you find the time in your busy schedule to tell me?" Alex realizes her mistake a bit too late and shoots her hand up to cover her mouth, darting her eyes at me.
It is my turn to shoot her a murderous glare.
"I thought it was supposed to be our secret," I say.
"I'm so sorry, babe, it slipped."
I scoff and continue sipping my tea.
"You're not being fair, Alex!" Nate grabs his girlfriend by her elbow.
"Piss off! I think you should leave!" Alex yanks her arm away and swats his chest.
A groan escapes my lips. I don't want them to fight because of me.
"Folks, this isn't about you now," Liam says. I look up at him, a silent "Thank you" suspended in the air between us.
Alex scoffs but doesn't say anything else, and Nate shrinks in his stool.
"Lyds, just tell us what we can do for you, babe," Gloria coos.
"I want you to tell me why you were all here tonight and what happened," I say, my voice hoarse from sobbing earlier. "And I want you to tell me everything," I reach across from me and squeeze Nate's hand tightly. "I know you didn't do it to hurt me, but I need you to be completely honest with me this time, OK?"
Nate swallows audibly but looks straight into my eyes.
"I already told you everything I know, Lyds. About the game, and the money, and Mark betting you..." Nate's voice trails off and his eyes move away from mine, embarrassment clearly settling in, as he mentions the sick deal that my ex and my...well, ex, I guess, had made behind my back.
"I met Patrick at Greg's farewell party the other night," he continues. "He was drunk, and he started asking questions about you and Mark. Then, he started talking about the two of you, how you broke his heart, et cetera, et cetera. He told me he called Mark to challenge him about breaking their deal, and Mark told him to piss off. Apparently, Patrick then got angry and asked Mark to pay him the fifty thousand pounds that they put up as insurance. Mark said he didn't have the money, but he'll get it and repay him fully. But he hadn't still. So, Patrick threatened to tell you everything..."
"And then, after two fucking years, he finally decided to spill the beans," Alex says, crossing her arms over her chest.
"I'm sorry, babe, what do you want me to say?" Nate pleads.
"I believe you," I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. "I know you didn't do it on purpose, Nate."
"That doesn't make it any less wrong, though" Alex insists.
"So, when Nate told Alex, she got really mad, and called me," Gloria chimes in. "And I got sick of this game of telephone, and called them all in, to talk. Patrick was on his way, when you texted me to ask if you could come here from the airport, and I thought it was fucking fate! I thought it couldn't get any better, all of us here, talking like adults about what happened in Italy. I just didn't expect them to behave like fucking imbeciles!" Gloria huffs and her nostrils flare.
I really don't know what to make of all this. My brain is short-circuiting from the information overload. I feel the beginning of a migraine, blooming behind my eyes.
"Thank you," is all I can say. "To all of you. Thank you for being here for me."
"What are you going to do?" Gloria asks.
I shrug my shoulders.
"I need time. I need to think about it. But I know I don't want to see any of them," I say, pursing my lips.
"You know that Mark will come looking for you, right?" Gloria asks.
"Yeah, that's why I'm not going to stay here," I straighten in my bar stool.
"But, where are you going to go, babe?" Gloria asks.
"I don't know. Back to my dad's, I guess," I say.
"No!" Alex and Gloria both jump to their feet. "You can't go back there!" Alex says.
I groan. I feel dreadful enough about it myself.
The prospect of going back to Brompton Square is literally making my head hurt, the migraine gaining full force and making the world even more unbearable and painful than it already is.
Brompton Square is the last place I want to be, but I have no other choice. Gloria's right, Mark will be coming to look for me, and I don't want to talk to him. I don't even want to look at him right now, and I don't want to put Gloria in the awkward position of having to choose between her oldest friends in this situation, when this isn't about her. I can't stay here and just cower away in a room upstairs, forcing Gloria to cover up for me.
Which is a part of the reason why being with Mark was a terrible fucking idea in the first place, a voice in my head says helpfully.
Silencing the voice with a loud slurp of tea, I decide that I should talk to Colin about my university situation, anyways, so going back to Brompton Square seems inevitable.
I just didn't want to feel miserable and pathetic, when I faced him. I wanted to be calm and collected, with Mark by my side, exerting confidence, while building my case. Not fucking broken and homeless.
Again.
One shitty situation at a time, Lydia.
The funny thing is, I thought that coming home early from Greece to talk to my dad about funding my tuition was shitty enough.
But this? This takes shitty to a whole new level.
"Well, I can't stay here, either, and I definitely can't go back to Mark's."
"You're coming to my place," Alex says, her voice adamant.
"But, babe, you're leaving for uni soon," I protest.
"How many times do I have to tell you, Lydia, you can stay in my place for as long as you like. My mum likes you way more than she likes me," Alex says, pushing a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
I sigh. I feel like an old suitcase, being pushed around, from one place to another, not really belonging anywhere. Not feeling home anywhere.
One shitty situation at a time, Lydia, I remind myself.
"OK," I nod. "Let me just get dressed."
Silently thanking God I got most of my essentials in my suitcase for Greece, I slide off my stool and head upstairs to change out of my dressing gown.
I reach the guest room that my stuff has been taken to, and put on my last clean pair of shorts and a t-shirt. I rake my fingers through my wet hair and then put it up in a messy bun on the top of my head.
I grab my phone, which is lying on the vanity, plugged into a charger, and see dozens of messages and six missed calls.
All from Mark.
Feeling more hot, angry tears, burning my eyes, I swallow past the lump in my throat and delete all of them.
I look in the mirror, barely recognizing the girl, staring back at me. Eyes swollen from crying, lips dry, nose red. The look of despair on my face. Despair is a funny thing. You can always recognise despair on someone's face.
My lungs suddenly start burning, and I reach up, grasping my chest. I sit on the bed, fighting for precious air, but my airways feel like they've been stuffed with hot fudge, as the seriousness of my situation begins to sink into my bones.
"How did I get here?" I ask myself out loud, as I realize that the house of cards that my life had been for years, has finally crumbled, leaving nothing behind.