A grey haze distorted his vision. A salty taste of blood oozed into his mouth & waves of nausea took hold. It had been 7 days. 7 days since the last time this happened. 7 days since the time before that. Almost like sadistic clockwork. How am I going to tell him? His body ached from the latest beating. Bruises splattered his body like drunken art. His ribs creaked with the age of old oak floorboards. But despite the physical pain, the emotional agony of keeping this secret any longer was becoming unbearable. I will tell him. I will *** In 7 days time, it would happen again. But I won't let it. The beatings, this weekly physical onslaught was consented to. I agreed to it. Besides, I still needed to tell him. There's only so much I can physically hide. The next chemical assault would have to wait. I love him. I love him. Too much sometimes. And sometimes, I love him badly. In a bad way. A cruel, selfish way. But I have to keep him. He can't leave. Without him I might as well be dead anyway. But if I tell him, he might leave. But he might stay. I'm sure he loves me just as much? The poison coursing my veins also clouds my judgement. My thoughts are completely disordered. This poison is supposed to fight the disease. But for what? Months of agony and the prospect of a life alone? If I'm to survive this as half a man, alone and lonely, life can fuck off. I take another handful of pills. And the pain starts to slip away. I'm on a pastel coloured ward, and it's shining. How did I get here? Around me, smiling angels drift down the length of the ward, wearing nurses uniforms. I'm in a blue pastel gown. On a blue pastel ward. I feel so light. Free from pain. Free from disease. Floating the length of the ward, gazing into wrong rooms full of familiar faces... Solitude replaces lonliness. I feel at peace. I actually feel the light around me. It's almost devine. Then something unexpected happens. He's here. *** It really is him.
"Jacob!" I shout.
But it may be the pills at work. He gazes right through me.
"Jacob?!"
I start running towards him. It's a blue, bright blue Saturday. I'm running down this pastel blue ward. It's still shining. But he doesn't get any closer. He just gazes. He doesn't smile; a blank face. My backless hospital gown billows pastal blue behind me as I run. Why can't I reach him?
"Jacob! Please!" Tears cascade down my crimson cheeks. Panic rips through my body. My heart wants to crash through my chest. Every part of my soul vibrates. Then, I trip and fall to the highly-polished floor of the ward. My head is a dead-weight. I struggle to lift it. Blood seeps from my nose. I can feel a frothy salty taste filling the back of my throat. I want to vomit. I drag my head from the cold floor and look up... At first, I just see his trainers. He always wore those damn trainers. They were comfortable, like he was to me. I struggle to lift my head As my eyes fall upon each part of his body, my eyes like virtual feet on an imaginary ladder, I crane my neck until I see his face. His head slowly drops forward to look down at me. His glassy eyes start to weep tears, which drop onto my bloodied face.
"Jacob?" I cry. Slowly and with purpose, his mouth opens. His lips pursed to form a word and speak. But with no warning I start to choke. I cough violently. As I open my eyes from coughing, I'm no longer on that pastel blue ward. There's no shining light. And I'm not at Jacob's feet anymore. *** I'm lying face down on the floor. But not on the highly-polished floor of a hospital ward, but on the grubby beige carpet of my bedroom. I start retching. Blood splatters the carpet. In another Valium- induced hallucination, I've fallen off my bed. Too many pills. Body aches. I haul my bruised body onto the bed and collapse on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I'm so disorientated. So very tired. So sick. I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess of my dream or hallucination or whatever it was. I try to make sense of it all. I'm alive I listen. Birdsong drifts through the window, a dog barks, a door slams, keys jangle. A child giggles. Traffic hums along. Life goes on. I'm warming up to cold reality again. I stretch my arm out to the other side of the bed to feel for Jacob, for comfort. He isn't there. Opening my eyes, I notice his pillow still has a soft dent from where his sleeping head rested hours before. The cold sheets lay crumpled. I remember he's at work. Which is where I should be. He'll start to realise if he hasn't already. I'll tell him tonight at 7, after dinner. *** I start to drift off to sleep again, sinking down in hot sleep and white sheets, with the traffic of mad men and maniacs invading my mind. It won't be long now... The sound of the telephone wakes me. I feel confused. I don't answer it. The coarse ringing tears through my fragile head. It's still light. It's seven minutes past three. I let my mind wander after taking my pills. More pills. Mostly medicinal. I start to think of Jacob. I smile. We met at Uni. He was beautiful. Four years younger than I, with olive skin and a dazzling smile that would make the hardest of hearts melt. He was studying history, I was studying pharmacology. He was in his first year, I was in my second. We met in an awkward, crowded canteen. A clichè maybe, but it was love at first sight. There was only one table free. Fate made sure we sat at it. We started making small talk. I have no idea what we spoke about. All I remember was how shy we both were. He kept looking down, smiling. I kept apologising. But I remember every little practical detail. How he walked. His mannerisms. What he was wearing. Those damn lovely comfortable trainers. I smiled, remembering those first moments. It's hard to believe it was over 7 years ago. 7 years 7 months to be exact. I felt a glow inside. I needed a shower. I needed to change the sheets. Blood over my face and the bed wasn't something I wanted him to see. I need more pills. Again I hauled my aching body from the bed, and clutching my side, I hobbled to the bathroom, bottle of wine, corkscrew and glass in hand. Jacob would be home in twenty-seven minutes, like clockwork. Predictable. Constant. I drank, showered and made the bed. It was almost 7pm. ***
"Jacob!" I shout.
But it may be the pills at work. He gazes right through me.
"Jacob?!"
I start running towards him. It's a blue, bright blue Saturday. I'm running down this pastel blue ward. It's still shining. But he doesn't get any closer. He just gazes. He doesn't smile; a blank face. My backless hospital gown billows pastal blue behind me as I run. Why can't I reach him?
"Jacob! Please!" Tears cascade down my crimson cheeks. Panic rips through my body. My heart wants to crash through my chest. Every part of my soul vibrates. Then, I trip and fall to the highly-polished floor of the ward. My head is a dead-weight. I struggle to lift it. Blood seeps from my nose. I can feel a frothy salty taste filling the back of my throat. I want to vomit. I drag my head from the cold floor and look up... At first, I just see his trainers. He always wore those damn trainers. They were comfortable, like he was to me. I struggle to lift my head As my eyes fall upon each part of his body, my eyes like virtual feet on an imaginary ladder, I crane my neck until I see his face. His head slowly drops forward to look down at me. His glassy eyes start to weep tears, which drop onto my bloodied face.
"Jacob?" I cry. Slowly and with purpose, his mouth opens. His lips pursed to form a word and speak. But with no warning I start to choke. I cough violently. As I open my eyes from coughing, I'm no longer on that pastel blue ward. There's no shining light. And I'm not at Jacob's feet anymore. *** I'm lying face down on the floor. But not on the highly-polished floor of a hospital ward, but on the grubby beige carpet of my bedroom. I start retching. Blood splatters the carpet. In another Valium- induced hallucination, I've fallen off my bed. Too many pills. Body aches. I haul my bruised body onto the bed and collapse on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I'm so disorientated. So very tired. So sick. I rub my eyes, trying to shake off the grogginess of my dream or hallucination or whatever it was. I try to make sense of it all. I'm alive I listen. Birdsong drifts through the window, a dog barks, a door slams, keys jangle. A child giggles. Traffic hums along. Life goes on. I'm warming up to cold reality again. I stretch my arm out to the other side of the bed to feel for Jacob, for comfort. He isn't there. Opening my eyes, I notice his pillow still has a soft dent from where his sleeping head rested hours before. The cold sheets lay crumpled. I remember he's at work. Which is where I should be. He'll start to realise if he hasn't already. I'll tell him tonight at 7, after dinner. *** I start to drift off to sleep again, sinking down in hot sleep and white sheets, with the traffic of mad men and maniacs invading my mind. It won't be long now... The sound of the telephone wakes me. I feel confused. I don't answer it. The coarse ringing tears through my fragile head. It's still light. It's seven minutes past three. I let my mind wander after taking my pills. More pills. Mostly medicinal. I start to think of Jacob. I smile. We met at Uni. He was beautiful. Four years younger than I, with olive skin and a dazzling smile that would make the hardest of hearts melt. He was studying history, I was studying pharmacology. He was in his first year, I was in my second. We met in an awkward, crowded canteen. A clichè maybe, but it was love at first sight. There was only one table free. Fate made sure we sat at it. We started making small talk. I have no idea what we spoke about. All I remember was how shy we both were. He kept looking down, smiling. I kept apologising. But I remember every little practical detail. How he walked. His mannerisms. What he was wearing. Those damn lovely comfortable trainers. I smiled, remembering those first moments. It's hard to believe it was over 7 years ago. 7 years 7 months to be exact. I felt a glow inside. I needed a shower. I needed to change the sheets. Blood over my face and the bed wasn't something I wanted him to see. I need more pills. Again I hauled my aching body from the bed, and clutching my side, I hobbled to the bathroom, bottle of wine, corkscrew and glass in hand. Jacob would be home in twenty-seven minutes, like clockwork. Predictable. Constant. I drank, showered and made the bed. It was almost 7pm. ***
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