Katie was hesitant to step into the room. She had attempted to visit Junior several times during his stay in hospital, but his mum Frankie had been diligently at his side and so she hadn't really had the chance. She needed to see him privately, if anything. Needed to face the reality that it had really happened, that her old friend was shot and was fighting for his life, and that his poor wife Niamh was dead.
It all seemed like a blur, a whirlwind of events that had swept them all off their feet. It had all happened so fast—one moment, Junior was smiling at her while dancing with his lovely bride, the next, he was lying in his own blood. She had seen Niamh get shot, watched the fleshy bits spew from her face like volcanic ash. The terrifying visuals replayed in her mind over and over again. She had hardly slept since it all happened, and knew she wouldn't rest well until Junior was safe.
At least he was stable now. That was really the only way Freddie had finally convinced Frankie to go home and take care of herself. Kate hadn't seen either of them in private since the events and she felt well and truly alone. She couldn't even visit Maggie and her bloke Richie—it was as if she needed to silently suffer in the confines of her flat with nothing but the memories to haunt her. It was times like those she had really wished for the comfort of her old dog Spotty, to wrap her arms and legs around him like she had as a child and cry.
It seemed the longer she stayed there alone in her gaff, the more all the other things came up as well—her mum's apparent suicide and all. This was the second time she had looked death in the eye and it terrified her. She was tough, a fighter, but she was only twenty-three years old. She was too young to see something so terrible. She wasn't suited for the things Junior did, the life he led. Not really, anyway.
There was an eerie quietness to the room as she stepped further inside. There were various machines making a lot of noise, though she wasn't sure what to make of any of it, only that they were keeping Junior alive. Her best friend. Her only friend, at times.
Seeing him like that, hooked up to all sorts of things, brought tears to her eyes that she stubbornly blinked away. He wouldn't want her to cry for him, not like this. So, she swallowed her sadness and slowly lowered herself into a chair near his bed, watching him rest, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with the ventilator that kept him breathing.
She sat there like that for an age, just watching him with fear in her eyes, until slowly, hesitantly, she grasped his hand in hers, feeling the roughness of him, and she was unable to stop the tears from flowing out onto her cheeks.
Quickly, she wiped them away with her free hand and sniffed. 'Fuck,' she said, her voice full of emotion. 'You finally got me to cry, dickhead. I hope you're happy.'
She sobbed a few quiet moments, her hand squeezing his tightly, as if he was the only thing keeping her from falling into the murky depths of her own grief. 'I dunno if you can hear me or anything,' she muttered out, repeatedly wiping away the fat tear drops that wouldn't stop coming. 'But if you can, you listen to me good, Freddie Evans Jr. You're doing me fucking nut in, you know. Sitting here in this hospital bed while I've gotta go on at home. Do you really think I can do it without you, you smug bastard? Huh?'
She knew she was talking nonsense, but she couldn't stop babbling. 'Here you are, about as useful as an ash tray on a fucking motorbike, and I'm . . . ' She had to stop in order to swallow the lump in her throat, clearing it a moment later in order to whisper pitifully, ' . . . I'm going mental without you.'
On these words, she lowered her head atop his hands, hot, salty tears dripping down onto his skin. She looked impossibly weak in that moment, weaker than she had ever allowed herself to look in front of anyone, including her own mother. 'Sometimes I just think about having it away, like. Getting out of here, you know? Away from everything, the fighting, the guns . . . Look, I know what you're thinking. Kate, you sappy cow, stop chatting stupid. But I just . . . Whatever happens, if summink happens, I need to . . . to tell you. How I feel and all. I need to do that much for me own conscience.'
With her eyes squeezed tight, she raised her head and nodded a few times to herself, holding her breath. She couldn't look at him, not now. 'I love you, Freddie Evans. And I'm not being girly, okay, I mean it. I always have. Loved you, I mean. So you can't die on me now, all right? I won't let you, I swear. And I'm sorry, for everything, for turning you away, for driving you away, I . . . I know things weren't never the same between us after that. And I'm sorry, Junior. I'm sor—'
The words dropped from her mouth like they'd been sliced in half with a sword. When she opened her puffy eyes, she saw Junior's looking back at her.