Chapter 25 Melissa
Melissa
It’s too bright in here so Melissa turns the dimmer switch down.
She slips her hands under Damon’s armpits.
They’re damp with sweat and she helps prop him up against the edge of his bed.
She can make out a small phoenix near his elbow in his sleeve of tattoos and she remembers when he had it done.
But only now does she notice how it’s rising from water, not flames.
How prophetic, she thinks. She spots a handkerchief poking out from his pocket.
She hates those bloody things. He didn’t have a nosebleed in all the time they were together, but still he insisted on keeping one with him, just in case. They give her the ick.
Damon leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and supporting his forehead with his palms. She covers him with a blanket and takes a seat in the armchair opposite.
She remembers buying it from a department store with gift vouchers they were given by friends when they married.
He hides his face from her as his body trembles.
She assumes it’s out of shame. She is wrong. Minutes pass before he speaks again.
‘Why are you here?’ His voice is still hoarse but she hears anger in it. It takes her by surprise.
‘Because you weren’t answering your phone and you’ve stopped replying to my texts,’ she says gently. ‘Tommy, AJ, all your friends . . . you’re ignoring everyone. We’re worried about you.’
‘You made it clear what I do is none of your business,’ Damon says as he rubs his neck.
Again, she is taken aback by his animosity. Hasn’t she just saved his life? Again? ‘That’s not fair. And it’s not what I said. Killing yourself is very much my business.’
‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ He sighs. ‘I don’t want to stay dead. It’s a means to get to the truth. And I would have found it if you hadn’t interrupted us.’
‘What?’
‘You ruined everything.’
‘You’re alive because of me!’ she says in disbelief. ‘Who was that woman?’
He hesitates. ‘A friend.’
‘Then why haven’t I seen her before?’
‘We only met recently.’
‘Where?’
‘Online.’
‘What, Tinder? You discovered you had a shared an interest in strangulation, so you swiped right and invited her over to tie a noose around your neck? She was killing you, Damon.’
‘Only because I asked her to. She was helping me because you wouldn’t.’
‘She was filming you as you were dying! She was getting a kick out of it. She wasn’t going to bring you back.’
‘You don’t know that,’ he replies, lying to himself because the reality of what her agenda might’ve been is too frightening to face. He rubs his neck again.
‘If you saw the panic and then the absolute fury on her face when I interrupted her, you wouldn’t be arguing with me. She was in it for herself.’
‘She was about to resuscitate me.’
‘Please, if you aren’t going to be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself.’
Damon lifts his head and his gaze meets Melissa’s. ‘You refused to help me.’
‘Don’t try and make this about me.’
‘You left me with no other choice. I had to find somebody else.’
‘You did have a choice, and that was to forget about what you imagined. Put that little boy behind you and move on.’
‘He won’t let me! I see him all the time.’ He taps his index finger against his temple. ‘To get him to stop, I need to access what’s locked in here. Why can’t you understand? Jesus, Mel.’
Damon rises from the bed and makes his way into the bathroom, moving like a newborn foal, unsteady and awkward on his feet.
Melissa trails behind him in case he falls.
He retrieves a tube of Savlon antiseptic cream from the cabinet and massages it into the red imprints the rope has left on his neck.
His hands are still trembling and he misses a patch at the back.
She rubs it in for him. Together, they stare at one another through their reflections.
A question lingers in her mind, one she both does and doesn’t want an answer to. Eventually she relents.
‘When do you see the dead boy?’
‘Always. He’s standing behind you right now.’
Melissa spins on her heels, raising her fists as if to protect them from an assailant. But of course it’s only them in the bathroom. Well, her, him and his hallucination. She turns back to him and takes a deep breath.
‘And he’s not alone anymore,’ Damon continues. ‘Mum is with him.’
‘Now?’ She can’t help it: again she whirls, and repeats her pointless search for the phantoms pursuing him.
That his mother has now joined them throws her.
He rarely speaks about her because he doesn’t remember much, but her loss left a painful void.
She’s suggested many a time that he should consider therapy as a way of reconnecting with his past. And each time, he rebuffs her.
She faces him once more. ‘Please,’ she says, ‘let me get you help. Outpatient, inpatient, you decide. I’ll get you whatever you need, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.’
He steps closer and slowly tilts his head forward until it rests on her hairline.
‘There’s only one way you can help me,’ he says.
Melissa knows what he is asking of her. And she is conscious that if he is so desperate that he’s willing to allow a stranger to take his life in her hands, then he has reached a frightening new level of desperation.
She doesn’t answer him. Instead, she gives serious consideration to contacting the authorities to put the wheels in motion to have him sectioned under the Mental Health Act.
However, it’s not as simple as that – there are all sorts of hoops to jump through first, involving mental health professionals, assessments and searches for spare beds.
And she knows how determined and stubborn Damon can be if he doesn’t want to do something.
If he refuses to go willingly, she can already foresee the complications that will bring.
Once again, she will be the one who has betrayed him.
That’s why she finds herself slowly nodding.
Even as she’s doing it, she knows it is stupid, irrational, a ginormous risk and completely wrong.
She begins to cry. Not only for what is happening to someone she loves so much, but for selfish reasons.
She fears motherhood is starting to slip through her fingers with every twist and turn in their relationship.
She must find a way to turn the tide before it sweeps him away from her for good.