Shivering. I could hear the strange shaking of my breathing as my teeth chattered. Glancing down at my arms through my blurred, wobbly vision I could make out that every single hair on my arm was standing to attention. I looked grey. Why was I grey? I puked again and it went in my hair. Crying I let mum rub my back trying to be soothing but I ached all over. Every single minute tremor made my bones ache like I had been squashed into a cramped up ball for a thousand years and was only just stretching out.
"It's going to be ok, Jessica, it's going to be ok." Even she choked on her words, the lie biting through. How could anything be remotely ok ever again?
"M-Mum?" I managed, my stomach hurt from where it had clenched when I was sick. It felt as though I'd pulled every muscle to their very limit and even breathing hurt.
"I called an ambulance baby ok? Everything will be alright. Just stay here. You want some water? Try drinking this." She offered me a glass and I was about to take a sip when I hunched up and puked down the toilet again. Nothing was even slightly glamorous about this.
Still shaking I felt my chest relax and my breathing slowed down dramatically. I remained twitching by the toilet with strands of hair stuck together in my own sick while my skin shimmered in a cold sweat. Mum's forehead was creased into irrevocable lines of concern. She was talking to me in one long continuous sentence but I didn't understand what she was saying. I didn't get it. How did I get from my room to the bathroom? How did I get in this state? What was going on? What was even happening?
The paramedics came and all the neighbours gawped as I was wrapped up in one of those foil blankets that trap the heat in to stop hypothermia and I was practically carried into the back with mum following silently. I flopped around uselessly as the ambulance began to move.
I remembered the flashing lights. Everything was white and yellow and the smell made me want to be sick again. I was in a room surrounded by nurses and a nice lady with a baby voice tried to speak to me to explain what was happening. I felt tired and my jaw wasn't cooperating with my tongue. I was too drunk to really talk.
"-don't think there's anything else in her stomach to bring up." A woman with a deep voice said from somewhere. Someone replied and I let out a small moan as my body ached and ached.
My eyelids drooped and I fell unconscious. I woke up and there was laughing around me. I was in hospital and I felt like shit. My mouth was open and there was a tube sticking halfway down my throat which made my eyes fly open in terror. A nurse that was checking the drip beside me smiled and told me it was to help me breathe. "I'll fetch the doctor." She left.
I was unsure whether it was day or night. Everything was so sterile and artificial in here it was difficult to tell. I had a dream that I left with Dylan and we were trying to find a nice flat in London. He took my hand, told me I smelt of bubblegum and cigarettes and said that everything was going to be ok and for the first time in forever I believed it too.
I was dismissed four days later. I was weak and fragile, mum kept her hands up and ready to catch me in case I fell. I was forced to remember her vase I broke last year and how I was a lot like that. Mottled shades. Mum was busy. Hectic even. She was booking doctor's appointments and looking up decent rehabilitation centres although we lacked the financial stability Clarissa owned, and I lay on the sofa feeling like my insides had been scraped raw from my body. My hair was lank. Black eyes and no killa winged eyeliner I felt like a shell of the person I'd been before all this.
I phoned Dylan but he didn't reply. I got a call from Lily then Rachel and they chattered endlessly down the line gushing how they'd visit ASAP and they had never realised, they were "so totally sorry" and would never let me down again. Afia continued sending snapchats of all the cute boys at the beach oblivious to the drama back home while Clarissa was deadly silent.
"It's in Leeds," mum explained the next evening. "Two months there and then you're back here with a fresh start. But you know rehab only works if you want it to, you have to be willing to fight for your sobriety Jessica." I'd burst into tears and told her I wanted to be free from the chokehold it had around my neck. I wanted to be me, carefree, giggling, music lover and average academically. This was destroying my entire life. So I agreed to go although it cost me a lot of heartache. I phoned Dylan three times that night and each time it rang out.
Mum painted my nails midnight blue the day before I was to leave for rehab. She'd packed my suitcase and promised to keep in contact. I was desperately trying to avoid thinking about it; the thought of everything I was going to have to put myself through terrified me to the very core. There was no denying that it would be hard. Painful even. But the end goal was freedom.
I went to Dylan's house. A ten year old girl answered and she had the most beautiful crisp brown eyes. I told her I was here for Dylan. Alice looked around sheepishly. "You his girlfriend?"
I nodded and smiled. "Yeah, I'm Jessica."
She sucked in a deep breath and shrugged powerlessly. "He's gone. He said he had to go it was do or die. He knew you'd be here though and he wrote a letter. He never writes letters. Never. Hold on." My mind was still reeling from the first two words: He's gone. It was the second blow. The bottom of my entire world not only fell away but completely shattered around me scattering jagged shrapnel into my heart and soul. Alice came back with a letter -no envelope and I shoved it in my bag. "I didn't read it, promise. He told me not to."
"Thank you," I tried to keep my voice level and calm. He's gone.
Alice shut the front door and I turned slowly on my heel rolling my shoulders, I was wearing the 50's style top that knotted at the back of my neck. I swallowed and began to walk, still fragile.
He's
Gone.
I went home. Only I stared at the front door with a scowl, confused. This wasn't my front door. I knocked. Twenty seconds later Clarissa answered and summoning every last bit of strength in my body I shoved her in the chest. She flew backwards.
"Fuck you."
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She gasped clutching her chest. Good. I was pleased that she hurt. Quivering I stepped into her house feeling like I could smash every single happy family photo over her head until she was unconscious and bleeding from it but I stood completely still instead. "I was going to visit you in hospital." She regained her composure with frustrating rapidness.
"Oh yeah?" I raised my eyebrows. "Shame you didn't." I licked my lips but they were sour like rotten love. Everything was tainted. "You fucked everything up for me Clarissa because you're a selfish bitch. I may be a coward but you're equally weak. Dylan left without me. I'm going to rehab for two months. My mum is out of her mind with guilt because she thinks this is all on her. And. I. Got. Nothing. This is a fantastic day really." I laughed madly even though my eyes burned with the threat of fresh tears. Clarissa was staring at me slightly horrified.
"You're going to rehab," her voice was quiet, "I did you a favour so you're welcome."
"Whatever!" I rolled my eyes. "The fact that I'm going to rehab was an unintentional side effect of your fucking revenge plot. I used to think Dylan was a creepy psycho but it was you all along." She stomped up to me her nostrils flared. I thought she was going to hit me. Fine. Let her throw the first punch but I'd be sure to have the last. "I just wanted you to know that I did not need your help to become this fucked up. And-and-" my voice cracked like a mirror casting misfortune and misery everywhere as I started to cry. "-I will never forgive you."
"Oh don't be so melodramatic Jess, I'm sorry-" she grabbed my arm as I turned to leave but I wrenched free from her grip and her voice grew whiny as she tried to excuse herself but I opened her front door and left. "Listen to me, please, Jess, just let me explain-" I strode down her front garden with my middle finger up. I was done with this. Done with her. We could have been great together, cute, magnificent whether that was as friends of girlfriends or whatever but we were both too twisted for it to ever work out. We collided and hit the destruct. Apparently I had done the same thing with Dylan as well.
I sat in my pyjamas in my windowsill while Bleach played quietly on my CD player. It was dark and my room was covered in a shroud. Mum had ordered pizza but I didn't eat much. Pathetically I tried calling Dylan again and like an idiot I left him a message telling him what was happening. "I feel like you've abandoned me." I cried down the empty line. "Like I was too much. Like I made you run away. Like I was unfixable and you didn't have the heart to tell me. Please call?"
My window was thrown wide open letting the brisk night air filter through while I smoked. I read his letter by starlight and moonlight. He had stupid handwriting that shook like he wasn't used to holding a pen to paper at all.
I'll come back. He said. I had to go. I had to. It was do or die. Trust me I'll come back for you Jessica.
Why did he have to leave me? I wanted my hands in his hair, my mouth on his jaw and his fingers tracing down my bare back. I wanted his smirks and smell and fucked up hair.
I'm no writer or poet. I'm no anything but you're everything to me like the stars and sky all rolled up into one. My girlfriend's pretty cool.
I sniffed as I took another drag from my cigarette; I had put lipstick and eyeliner on to read his letter. I felt like I had to look respectable to read whatever he had to say. The cigarette was dark where my lipstick had stained it.
I swear to God, I swear to you I'll be back and I'll have us a nice life set up in London when I do. Flat, diamonds, whatever you want I'll give it to you. Give me a year tops. I'll phone you soon.
I was tired in the car the next day when mum drove me down to the centre. She played a Britney Spears CD and hummed along; bobbing her head in time while occasionally handing out encouragement telling me that she was proud of me. Proud of a fuck up? What must her new boyfriend think of our crazy life? As we drove with our windows rolled right down and the air fumbling frantically through our loose hair I remembered all the times I had in cars driving fast with boys and their hands crawling along my thighs. All the laughs, all the highs. Everything was golden.
It looked like a large house. A bit like the dumping ground in Tracey Beaker, it was quite big. The garden was preened to perfection. There were no bars on the windows. I sniffed and my hands shook as I opened my door. Mum helped me with my things and we exchanged one fleeting look in the car park that summed up everything. I forced a smile and she forced one back.
P.S. I waited for you. I'll come back for you. Please forgive me. Please wait for me.
FIN