Something to die for
There is always a time when you look around and ask yourself, full of wonder or pain, how the hell you got there. It was the fifth time Naomi was staring around, speechless and motionless, and asked herself that question.
The first time was when she was barley 22 and fell in love with a fucking hurricane of a woman who had a child. She was happy.
The second time was when she was 24 and looked around her messy place filled with toys, laundry, nappies, a screaming toddler and an forever absent girlfriend. She ran.
The third time was when she was forgiven for almost breaking her girlfriend, herself and their life and stared in wonder at the newborn in her arms, vowing she'd never leave this precious baby. She was flying and her heart was practically bursting with love.
The fourth time was when she was stood in her new home, new town, new life, with Katie's arms around her after they achieved what they had fought for so long and hard. She was sure nothing could ever make her sad again. Life was perfect.
Now she stood in front of the mirror, looking at this 30 year old stranger ready to jump off the next bridge, and asked herself again, how she could have ended up there. Back in Bristol. On her own. Away from her family. With nothing but two bags of clothes and her guitar placed in the corner of her newly rented bed-sit.
And then, when her phone informed her of the missed call she had ignored, Naomi closed her eyes and tried to remember.