Only You, Only Us

Chapter 19

Icome around, but there’s no party. Everything is quiet, eerily still.

My tongue is furry in my mouth, and my lips feel tight, like the skin is already split and cracked. Forcing my eyes to focus, I look around.

Nothing.

The smell of vomit makes me want to wretch all over again, but I swallow that down. I move, sitting myself up, and try to wipe the worst of it from my neck and top.

Nobody is here.

I pull myself to stand and look around.

The bed comes into focus, and I’m assaulted by sketchy and patchy images. Jeremy. Another girl. They weave together into a film reel depicting what I can remember of last night, but it’s enough. It’s enough to break my heart and shatter me all over again.

I buckle under the pain as I sob, one giant loud wail, as I let out the heartache. It echoes in the room, but I can’t stop. The tears come, and the cries grow louder, making it harder to breathe and catch my breath.

I let it out. I let it all out as I wander around the empty house, littered with bottles and piles of sick and the lingering scent of weed. The urge to find something, to take something to push the pain back under the surface, riddles my veins, and I search, pushing over cups and opening drawers, but there’s nothing here.

A copper tang hits my tongue, and I lick my broken lips.

I find the door and squint at the light.

I walk until I see something that looks familiar.

I keep walking, the tears running down my cheeks and blurring my vision in waves of grief.

There’s a street I finally recognise, and I drag myself down it and up the path to the house. I knock on the door and wait.

“Oh, baby.” Mum’s there, standing at the open door.

“Mummy,” I crack and burst into tears all over again.

Her arms pull me into her, and I go freely.

Safe.

Broken.

It’s the only word that resonates with me. Every part of my body hurts, but none more than my heart.

I’ve got no fight in me, so when Mum says she’s cutting me off, I don’t argue. I’m aware enough to know I’m in a scary place. It feels terrible, and all I want is another drink or another high to get through it.

She forces hot soup and wholesome food down my throat. It tastes like home, and I want to push everything away, but I can’t. There’s nothing left in me to rebel.

Until he turns up.

“Let me in, Becca. I know she’s here. Why won’t you let me see her.”

“She’s sick, Jeremy. And you’re no help to her. I’ll let you know when she’s better, but you need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving. I need her, and it’s killing me that she won’t talk to me.”

“You should have thought about that before you left her.”

The thud at the front door makes me jump. I’m perched on the top step of the stairs like a little girl, eavesdropping on a conversation she shouldn’t be listening to.

“Go away, Jeremy. I mean it.”

“Anna, I love you. I don’t understand. And I know you can hear me. Tell me what happened, and we can work this out. Please. I’m begging you.”

Mum ignores him but looks up at me.

Every part of me wants to rush down the stairs and into his arms because I love him, and my instinct is for Jeremy to make everything better. But every time I close my eyes, I see the girl and what happened.

I don’t even know if he remembers that. And in my more sober mind, I wonder if he understood what was happening to him. It makes me feel sick, but I can’t deal with it at the moment. I’m not strong enough to have that conversation with him, even if it beats inside my heart like something is physically trying to pull me towards him.

Jeremy didn’t leave. He stayed outside the house for hours. I couldn’t help but see it as a grand gesture — evidence that he loved me and didn’t know what happened at the party.

The longer I didn’t speak to him, the harder it got to keep the story straight in my mind. The haze of the last six months was lifting with Mum’s help, and I didn’t like what was left.

The plans we had and the vibrancy of first love now looked washed out and faded, and it hurt more than what happened in that room. It was all leading to that point. We just couldn”t see our behaviour and what we were doing to each other.

We had grown into something toxic for each other.

But my heart still hurt when I thought of him. It still skipped when I awoke from a dream — where we were in Cornwall, ready to take on the world together. He was still who I wanted to be with, and I hated that I wasn’t strong enough to move past that.

So, I did what I knew needed to be done but was dreading.

As soon as I see him, my heart cracks. It bleeds out all the horrible, cruel, and hurtful things I’ve played over in my mind these last few days and pulls me back towards him.

Shadows shade under his eyes, which look dull and bland. The colour I fell in love with is gone, like it has drained away. I want to cry and seek comfort in his arms like I used to. It is the one desire I have more than anything in the world — more than running out of here to find my next fix.

His smile is weak, but I know he wants to see me as much as I need to see him.

Mum wouldn’t agree to this so soon. She said I still needed to heal, but she didn’t understand that I had to do this to help myself. So, I texted him a place to meet, a random coffee shop, nowhere that either of us has a history with.

I join him at the table where he’s already ordered a couple of coffees, and he grabs for my hands across the table.

“Anna, I’ve been going out of my mind. What’s happened?”

The words stick in my throat, reluctant to come out.

“Do you remember the party? Tony’s?”

His eyes draw together in confusion. “Yeah. Well, most of it.”

I nod and push back the tears. “Do you remember the girl? With the junk?”

“Yeah. We were all down for that.”

“No. I wasn’t. You were already pretty high, and you would have done anything. I said no, but they gave me some shit anyway.”

“Okay. What does this have to do with us?”

He says it as if there’s no problem with the rest of what I just told him. I shake my head and pull my hands back. “Don’t you see how bad things are? You’re shooting up smack and don’t think it’s a big deal. We’re out of control.”

“We’re having fun like we said. This is our year to let loose, and then we go back to reality. Come on, Anna. I thought we were in this together.”

“We were. Until you let that girl screw you in front of me.”

My words hit him like I just smacked him in the face, and he sits back in his chair with a jolt.

“No. I’d never do that. Is this what you think happened?” I can see him trying to piece things together, but he still doesn’t understand.

“You did. I don’t think you were with it. You looked at me but let her do whatever she wanted. You were so high you didn’t even know who you were fucking.” My voice cracks, but inside, the rush of my anger grows and threatens to overtake the sadness.

I watch as the pain hits him, and it cripples me all over again.

“No. No. I love you, Anna.” He shakes his head, denial stamped on his face. “You’re my world. I’d never do something like that.”

“You did. I was lying on the floor, high, on a pretty nasty trip. I don’t know what I took, but it wasn’t coke. Or at least it wasn’t just coke. I couldn’t move. And the bitch knew it. She did it right there.” My jaw clenches as I relive my worst memory. “And you looked at me and didn’t recognise what was happening.” I swallow my emotion, but not before a tear falls to my cheek. I don’t brush it away this time.

This is self-preservation. How can we go on when this is what we’ve come to? I hold onto that sentiment as if it’s a life raft in a storm.

He stares at me, and I can see he doesn’t know what is happening to him. He looks lost, his eyes wide and glassy with tears I know he tries to hide from me. His hands reach for mine again, and he squeezes them so tightly, like he’s trying to hold on to me.

A part of me knows that it’s not fair to blame him for this. She took advantage of him, but isn’t this a wake-up call? Both of us are out of control, unable to remember periods of time or what we’re doing. We’d been on this path before that night. I just couldn’t see it.

It doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m the bad guy, even though I’ve done nothing wrong. It’s like his dad all over again.

“You hurt me, Jeremy. Even if you didn’t mean to, and in a way, that’s even worse. This isn’t good anymore. Can’t you see that?”

“No. Of course, I don’t. You dump all of this on me after bailing on me, and you expect me just to accept everything you say.” He shakes his head again.

“Maybe it’s best we take some time and try and sort ourselves out.” It’s the right decision. I know there’s always going to be a temptation if Jeremy doesn’t want to straighten himself out, too.

“What do you mean, you need some time? I didn’t do anything wrong, Anna. I didn’t know. It wasn’t me. I was out of it.” He starts to yell, and it sparks my rage, too. Realising where we are, I storm out of the café, and he follows.

I turn to yell back at him. “That’s just it. We shouldn’t be out of our minds to the point of not having control. That’s not right, and it’s terrifying. What if it was the other way around? How would you feel?” My words hit him where I know he’ll react, provoking him, and I want to punish him by forcing him to imagine what I felt.

“Don’t. Don’t say things like that.” He shakes his head at me before shoving his hands through his hair and scrunching up his fists, and I know I’ve won. He couldn’t take it any more than I can.

“See, you’d be going out of your mind. Just like me. So, the drugs stop, Jere. We should be happy, living our lives. Nothing is stopping us from being happy. But even with your mum in rehab, you seem to need this destructive path. This is the wake-up call that I needed, and maybe you do too.”

“I thought I was your family. You don’t abandon your family when they need you, Anna.” His words cut deep, and maybe that is his intention. He knows this will sting because I remember what being abandoned feels like.

“If you love me, you’ll see this is best for us both. We need to get clean and stop drowning in drugs. I’m not breaking up with you.”

“If you love me, you won’t do this. I’ve got nobody now. Nobody.” He paces back and forth, shoving his hands through his hair again.

I don’t want to see him like this. “You still have me. But I need to get sober. I need to get over what happened that night.”

“And you want to do that without me?”

“Are you going to stop using? Get rid of the pills, the weed, the coke and whatever else you’ve been taking?”

It’s his turn to grit his teeth and tense his jaw as he looks away.

“Seems like you need those more than you need me then.”

“Screw you, Anna. I thought…” he trails off. “Doesn’t matter. I was wrong.”

“This isn’t us breaking up, Jeremy. I love you. We can get past this,” I tell him again.

“Funny. It feels like you’re tearing my heart out and shoving it down my throat.”

“This isn’t you talking. You’re angry.”

“No shit, I’m angry.”

“Well, imagine how I feel. Don’t blame me for how I’m feeling. That’s shitty. If you love me, if you really love me, then you’ll want what’s right for me. And what’s right for me now is to get better. You can either support me or not. It’s your choice. But don’t confuse this for me breaking up with you. That’s your call and your mind twisting things.”

We stare at each other, locked in our war of words, waiting for the other to flinch first. I can’t crumble, not now.

He doesn’t say anything; he just waits. I want more than anything for him to fight for us, to hear my words and realise what they mean. But he doesn’t. The time runs on, and it breaks my heart, fracturing and decaying as I stand and wait. So, I turn and start to walk away. “You made this choice, Jere. Remember that,” I shout back, holding it together before the emotion chokes the words from me.

By the time I’m home, I’m in pieces. My hands are shaking, and the thirst in my throat is burning.

All I want is a drink. I want to get wasted and take this horrible, sinking feeling away and forget about all the pain. Forget about the words, the memories, everything.

But there’s nothing here. I start pulling open the cabinets, hoping for something — anything. The kitchen doesn’t have anything that would satisfy me.

“Hey, Anna. Everything okay?” Mum comes out of her studio as I’m ransacking the kitchen.

“Fine.” I slam the doors and keep looking.

“There’s nothing here. Nothing to drink, anyway.” She leans against her door and speaks so calmly that it just makes me all the madder.

“Damn it, I just need a drink.”

“Where have you been?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m back.” I storm past her and start in the front room. There used to be a couple of bottles on display on the side table. They’re not here.

There’s nothing here.

I try to take a breath, run my hands through my hair and turn around, wondering what or where I can check next.

“No. No, no, no.” Mum rushes past me for the front door, stopping me from leaving before I even thought of it.

“I have to go, Mum. I have to.” My voice breaks as my emotions hit me full force, threatening to pull me under, and all I can think of, all I can focus on is the internal drive to quench everything with a drink. But floating to the surface of all of this is the pain in my chest. A dull ache that only seems to grow with every beat of my heart.

“Nope. I’ve got you.” She wraps her arms around me, but I try to fight, struggling to get out of her grasp. But she’s sure and strong, and the more I fight, the harder her hold binds her to me.

“I’ve got you. Just give in.”

“I have to go. I need… I want to…” I can’t finish the sentences. I don’t know what I need. Because everything is bleak and dark. All the light and hope has burned out, and I’m stuck, picking over the embers of the last six months.

My legs shake and are so weak under me that I give in and collapse right there. I don’t hit the floor. Mum cradles me, and we both slump down, propped up against the front door.

If I leave now, all I can see is disaster. But she stopped me.

“I’ve got you. We’ll get through this. I’ve got you.”

Her words are soft, and her kindness breaks the last part of me I was holding together.

I cry.

I sob.

I rage.

All there, on the floor, in my mother’s arms.