Chapter 71
Jamie
I stay in bed, listening to his movements — bathroom, running water, nervous footsteps, kettle, cupboard, the spoon stirring in a cup.
I can’t bring myself to get up, to meet his eyes, or even say a single word. To end it all.
The ache of letting him go is unbearable — yet I’m too weak to beg him to stay.
I spent the night staring at the closet, fighting the urge to run and hide, desperate not to be found.
The Doctor didn’t sleep well either. I heard him shifting around, his breathing heavy. He could feel it too — the beginning of the end.
I force myself to swing my legs on the side of the bed, pick up my briefs, and pull them on with reluctance. I have to do it now, before he grabs onto something again, before he digs in, before he starts pitying me.
I walk into the kitchen; he’s sitting on a stool at the counter, his back to me as he stares into his coffee. I move forward, dragging my feet, my heart, and my whole life. Finally, I reach him and stop just behind his shoulder.
The Doctor senses my presence and slowly turns from his coffee to face me. “I woke you up.”
I shake my head.
“I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you, so I came to the kitchen to make myself a coffee.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I didn’t want to invade your space.”
My space, Doctor? You invaded every inch of my fucking life. How the hell am I supposed to cut you out without tearing myself apart?
“Is everything okay?”
I don’t answer. I can’t even breathe.
“Hey.” He stands up from the stool and steps closer. He reaches out, hand lifting to gently caress my face, but I pull back, avoiding his touch.
Don’t forgive me, Doctor. I don’t deserve it.
“What…?”
I shake my head again and step away from him, deliberately widening the distance between us.
“I think I missed a few steps. What happened between I want to make love to you and I don’t want you to touch me?”
God, Doctor. How can I tell you what I am, what I’ve done, what I’ve caused? How do I tell you about my life, my guilt, what I carry with me, things I swore, many years ago, never to reveal?
Years of silence and lies, of words stuck in my throat.
Years spent hiding in darkness, burdened by a pain I refuse to pass on.
“Jesus, speak to me.”
I want to scream until there is nothing left inside me. How could you still love me, then? How could I ever love you?
You won’t hear my story, Doctor. I don’t want to be one of your lost causes. I don’t want your pity or your compassion.
All I want is your love.
But there’s no love without trust, without letting go.
You can’t face fear if you’re afraid to be yourself.
How can you truly love someone if you don’t first love yourself?
And how can you love at all if you’re unable to forgive?
“I just want to help you.”
Christ, no. Anything but that.
“I’m not one of your fucking patients, Doctor.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Then why would you want to help me?”
“Because I—”
“Don’t say it! Don’t you fucking dare!” I point my finger at him, but he doesn’t even flinch.
“Because I am in love with you.”
He says it anyway.
I never imagined love could hurt this much.
“Doctor…”
“Martin. My name is Martin. You can’t even say my name?”
I can’t say your name. If I do, you’ll become too fucking real.
“Since when does fucking mean love, Doctor?”
I do everything I can to make him hate me, praying he won’t look back one day and feel like he lost something that mattered.
The Doctor presses his knuckles to his mouth. “So what was, then?”
I stay silent. I have no idea what to say.
“What have I been to you, Jamie?”
For the first time, he says my name. It sounds so good on his lips, I feel like I might break.
Here, in my kitchen, I could fall apart and finally end this.
But my name is also pain, because the Doctor has just landed his fatal blow.
The game is over now, and all that’s left is to lie on the grass and wait for the end.
I take the last breath before I let myself fall apart.
“You know my rules.”
“Your rules. How stupid of me to think that…” He runs a hand through his hair and looks at me.
The Doctor is the kind of man who doesn’t hide, not even when he’s hurting.
You are so painfully authentic, Doctor, that my heart aches with the urge to believe you.
“It has only ever been a game to you.”
I look down.
“Well, it wasn’t for me. Not for a single fucking second.”
The Doctor leaves, and I let him. I don’t stop him or say how I feel. I don’t tell him he’s killing me, or that I’ll have to bury what’s left of me all over again.
He leaves me alone with my guilt, my mistakes, my choices, and these damned rules.
With my absurd love.
The Doctor leaves believing he’s the one who’s lost something, never realising I’m the one losing everything.
I sit behind the wheel for what feels like forever before I finally get out of the car. It’s night now. I shouldn’t have driven all this way, searching for somewhere to hide.
There isn’t a safe place left. I ruined it. I broke it apart and made it worthless.
I hurt him, and I knew I would. I did it anyway. I let him get close, and he let me in. I made him believe that one day I would let him see the real me, too.
I loved him. He knows that.
I still love him. He knows that, too.
But he left anyway. Like me, he knows love isn’t enough if you aren’t willing to fight for it.
It ended the way it was always going to. I made it happen. I can’t hide or run. No matter how fast I go, he’ll always be there. He won’t leave me alone or let me breathe. No one will save me, because I don’t want to be saved. I don’t deserve it.
The car door opens and someone slides into the seat beside me.
“Are you staying out here?”
“I don’t know.”
“She knows you’re here. She’s worried. Will you come in?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, we won’t talk about it. Just come inside anyway, for her.”
Ian convinces me to get out of the car. I follow him inside and find Riley waiting by the door. She immediately pulls me into a hug.
“I’m fine.”
“You were out there for a while. I didn’t know what to do,” Riley says, her voice shaking.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”
“Don’t start. This is your house,” Ian says.
I’ll pretend to believe it this time, Ian, because I have to.
“What happened?” My sister asks.
“Nothing happened, Riley.”
“Jamie, please.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. I just need to stay here for a while.”
“The sofa is yours,” Ian says.
I sink onto the cushions, exhausted.
All I can do is stay here and hope their presence will ease the pain in my chest, because I’m afraid I won’t make it through this time.
I jolt awake to find Riley on the sofa beside me. “You had a nightmare,” she says softly.
I’m sweating and shaking. I can’t seem to breathe or think, and I don’t understand what’s happening to me.
“Does this still happen to you?”
“Every fucking night.”
“Oh, Jamie…”
“I miss him,” I tell her, unrestrained. “I miss hearing his voice, talking to him, teasing him. I miss his beautiful, goofy face, his smile, the way he looks at me. I miss his hands, Riley. His hands… They work magic, but they couldn’t fix me, and he tried anyway.
I miss them. I miss his breaths, his fucking apologies, his bloody thanks.
I miss his laugh, I miss his tears. I miss him reading to me at night.
I miss him, Riley, like I miss the whole world. ”
“Jamie…”
“It hurts to see him, to be with him. His kindness hurts, and his love hurts too.”
“Why, Jamie? I don’t understand…”
“Because with him, it has to be me; there’s no other way. And I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be Jamie Kennedy ever again.”
“Jamie Kennedy is fantastic, just like Jamie Murray.”
“Jamie Kennedy is dead. But he wants to bring him back; he wants him, Riley, and I can’t give him that.”
“He loves Jamie Kennedy. And I love him too.”
“Jamie Kennedy is nothing, a weakling, afraid of his own shadow. Someone to pity. And I don’t want pity.”
“Fear is part of us, Jamie, and he loves you. Knowing who you are won’t change that.”
I shake my head. “Everything hurts, Riley. I can’t take any more. Being with him hurts, but being without him destroys me. I’m losing my mind, Riley. I’m losing my fucking mind…”
She cups my face in her hands. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Stop it, please. Stop worrying. Stop caring. Stop hiding, justifying… Please, just stop.”
“I can’t do that.”
“That hurts me too, your kindness, your forgiveness…”
“What am I supposed to forgive?”
“M-me.”
Riley’s eyes widen.
“It was all my fault — your suffering, your tears, the beatings you took… You almost died because of me.”
“It wasn’t your fault, and you know it.”
“You shouldn’t forgive me; no one should. You should hate me, and Ian should hate me, and he… He can’t love me. He must not.”
Riley holds me tightly, and I collapse against her shoulder.
“I don’t deserve anything I have, Riley. None of it is mine by merit, only yours.”
“That’s not true. You’ve earned it all.”
“You gave me everything. You ripped it out of your own hands. How am I supposed to live with that? How, Riley? How can I take his love? How the fuck am I meant to just accept it?”
Riley squeezes me even tighter. “Let it out, Jamie. Whatever’s on your mind, just let it out.”
“The voices, Riley. I can’t stand them anymore. Make them stop, please make them go away!”
“Oh, my sweet Jamie.”
“Just tell them to go away.”
My sister cries, and I feel her tears on my shoulder. She cries again, for me. She suffers because of me — because of who I am, what I’ve done, what I’ve let happen.
I let him ruin her life to save mine. I let my sister carry my guilt and pay the price so I could walk away unharmed.
But I didn’t get out of it.
I carry it all with me.
I carry the screams, the humiliation, the fear.
I carry the darkness, the silence, the anguish.
I carry the guilt of being a weak, useless kid who cried and watched his sister almost beaten to death, as she rolled down the stairs, as neighbours called the ambulance, and saw her lie in a coma for three days.
I carry the abandonment, the loneliness, the hatred.
I carry both my pain and hers.
I carry her life and mine.
I carry who I am, what I have been, what I have done, and what I cannot forgive.
I bear the unbearable burden of still being Jamie Kennedy — and I bear it alone.
And I carry within me my love for the best man I have ever known, a toxic, unhealthy love that can only destroy him.