Whitney stared at the box of pills that sat stacked in front of her. There was only one way to get close to Billie again. If there was an afterlife they could be together. She could find answers to all the questions she had for him. Just why did he leave her if he still loved her? Now nothing could be done. Billie was gone. She dragged her feet through to the lounge, the room where he had died. She took a bottle of vodka from the bar. She took a look at the couch. That's where he was when Bianca found him. Whitney sat at the edge and stroked the arm where his head last lay. "I'll be with you soon," she whispered softly to it. To her it was almost as if the sofa had become Billie. She tipped the pills on to the table. With each pill she took a shot of the vodka from the bar. When they and the alcohol had completely finished she lay across the couch and shut her eyes.
"Whitney!" Knock, knock, knock on the door. " Whit? Whitney! Let me in!" Bang, bang, bang on the door. "WHITNEY! I am coming in one way or another!" Peter had been concerned about Whitney for a while. Since Billie died she had changed. He expected it. She loved Billie. But he loved Whitney. He was going to find out how she was if it resulted in him banishing all his morals. Peter ran round to the back and tried the door. "Thank god!" The door was unlocked.
"Whitney! Where are you?" He ran straight up to where her room was. No sign of her. "Whitney?" He ran down the stairs. He saw that the living room door was open. "Whitney?" His voice was a lot quieter this time. He slowly stepped inside the room. Peter saw her limp body slouched on the couch. He couldn't quite believe it. He took in the empty box of pill and the empty vodka bottle and it all clicked. Each step towards her felt like a lifetime. "Whitney." Peter was whispering now. He knelt down next to her and took her hand. "Whitney please, promise me you're not." He brushed aside her hair. He could hear her breathing.
The next few minutes for him were a blur. He called an ambulance and told them what he could. He wanted to call Bianca but he didn't know her number. Peter could only think of one thing. He took Whitney's phone out of her pocket and phoned Bianca.
"Bianca, it's Peter."
"How'd you get my number?"
"Whitney's phone, you have to come home, its an emergency."
"What do you mean?"
"She's taken pills, and vodka, she's out cold, but she is alive."
The line went dead. Bianca threw her apron to the floor and told Jane there was an emergency as she flew out the door. "Not Whitney too. Please not Whitney too."
Bianca arrived just as the ambulance pulled away.
She got to the hospital and demanded to see Whitney.
"What relation are you to the patient?"
"THIS ISN'T A TIME FOR QUESTIONS! SHE COULD BE DEAD!"
"Please, relation?""I'm her…" Bianca paused. To be honest, only one answer, "I'm her mum."
"3rd Floor then."
"Thanks." Bianca ran as quick as she could to find Whitney. She saw Peter and fell onto him. " How is she?"
"We don't know yet. The doctor said he'd tell us as soon as he could." At that precise moment the doctor came through the doors.
"Whitney Dean's mother I presume."
"Yes…"
"Well, I think you had better sit down."