Trigger warnings: dark themes involving suicide and mental health. Please do not read if you feel you may be affected by this.
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"You're drunk. Go home, Charity."
Of course Charity was drunk. Drunk and hurting. It hurt so badly that she struggled to breathe, chest tight and head muggy with the rapid whir of thoughts that she'd only half been successful in blurring with the bottle of vodka that's clutched tightly in her fist.
How could they not know that things wouldn't suddenly go back to normal after Bail's was sentenced? Weeks and weeks she'd been forced to tear open that scar and continue picking at the scab, bleeding the hurt and humiliation, bleeding all the fears of a desperate fourteen year old girl who'd unwittingly got herself caught in the clutches of a monster. It's not just the nightmares that have been plaguing her sleep, it was the flare of irrational fear she'd had to fight against every time she'd stepped out of the door alone or the panic that prickled against the back of her neck, burning down her shoulders. It was the look in everyone's eyes, the pity that sent bile rising in her throat, causing her to cringe at the bitter taste of it.
Victim. That's the title she'd been delegated now. Even if no one said it to her face, she could hear them whispering it behind her back. Sometimes she thought she heard it in the passing breeze, as though the wind carried the conversations that went on behind closed curtains, winding itself around her ear and filling her head with paranoid thoughts.
When she'd first left Vanessa's house, Rishi had caught her stumbling up towards the Woolpack and shuffled over to see if she was alright.
"Do you want me to call-"
"Get off!" Charity had screeched, wrenching her arm from his grip and almost sending herself toppling to the ground. "Don't ever touch me again!" She spat viciously, and the bewildered man held up his hands and backed away slowly, as though he'd disturbed a wild animal.
She felt the fury build up in her chest but it wasn't enough this time to scream at unsuspecting villagers. There's too much of it and with that anger comes pain beyond belief.
It wasn't as though she was expecting smiles, hugs and sunshine from any of her family. Hell if they tried she'd probably tell them where to get off. But the way Chas had simply dismissed her drunken stupor, ordering her out of her sight until she'd sobered up and warning her not to disturb the paying customers, the way Noah had decided to spend the day with Joe, it was Ross's day with Moses and Debbie hadn't even made it to the trial, let alone check in on how she was doing in the aftermath. In fact half of her family had been missing from that courtroom. Maybe it wasn't fair to resent them so much under their current circumstances but this had been the one time where she'd so desperately needed them like she never had before. Not that they'd cared.
That damn Dingle Court. Stuff the lot of them. I don't need them now.
The blonde barmaid had snuck quietly back into the Woolpack. Chas was nowhere to be seen and she wondered if morning sickness had overcome her cousin once more. Matty was leant against the bar, chatting to one of the few customers that were occupying the premises. It was quiet and so was she, enough so that she managed to slip into the toilets unnoticed. Entering the first cubicle she came to, she locked the door behind her and slumped against the toilet seat. The vodka was over half empty now and her vision was starting to swim.
It felt pointless. There was nothing ahead of her aside from the anger she was going to carry for the rest of her life. Anger that would ebb into hurt, that would finally give way to numbness only if she found solace at the bottom of a bottle. What a mess. What a waste of life.
The bitter, clear liquid burned her throat as she swallowed and she struggled not to gag against the taste. It was one of the cheap ones, it stuck in her throat like the hairspray she used to hold her curls in place most mornings. Vanessa seemed to enjoy toying with them, winding them around her finger, tugging them taut and watching them spring back into shape, teasing the strands idly.
Vanessa is far too good for you. She'll move on. She'll find someone else. You'll push her too far and she'll leave. It's only a matter of time. Save her the heartache, you owe her that.
Oh her own heart aches when she thinks of Vanessa, no matter how cool she'd tried to play things. It still swells in her chest, trying to break through the wall that she's been carefully constructing around it for years. Layer after layer that tiny blonde had managed to destroy, sneaking around the cracks, pushing through the parts that had already started to crumble. She was dynamite, blasting through every single defence the other woman had tried to throw up against her. Charity is sure she had very nearly made it through. Until she'd sent her home. Turned her down. Rejected her. Like everyone did in the end. And suddenly vodka was a temporary aid, the scaffolding needed to hold her in place until she could rebuild them and protect herself once more. But for now they're laden with Vanessa shaped gaps and the hurt is seeping into her bloodstream, carrying despair through her veins and her mind is relishing in defeat. Once her head had turned Vanessa against her, the rest follow with far too much ease.
Moses barely recognises you and he's got Ross, he doesn't need you.
Charity grit her teeth against the thought, trying to push it out of her brain. It was wedged right in there, so she raised the bottle to her lips and took a deep swig.
Noah can't stand you, you know he prefers Joe. He'll be fine.
Ryan survived twenty-seven years without you, it'll hardly be much of a loss.
Debbie never has and never will need you, what use have you been to her? To any of them?
All you've ever brought is upset and trouble. And for what? Nothing has changed. You're still damaged beyond repair, they still can't stand you. Did you think it would magically get better? Get real.
Charity scoffed to herself, the noise echoing in the quiet cubicle. Cain had been right, she wouldn't ever change. She dipped her hand into the pocket of her blazer and pulled out the small, orange tube. Sleep was a luxury she hadn't been afforded, not without popping two of the small white pills that rattled around in the plastic container.
Do the decent thing. Put yourself and everyone you drag down with you out of your misery. Lighten their burden. Because that's what you are and they've got enough weighing them down.
Yeah, she thinks that will be for the best. She won't have to feel pain, she won't have to hold up any walls. There'll be no anger, no numbness. She could just fall to sleep, fall to sleep and cease to exist and if she disappeared then so would everything else. No more trouble. No more causing hurt. The idea thrilled her, that she can just escape like that. She's out of strength and she can go guilt free knowing that at least with Bails behind bars, he won't hurt anyone else. Weird. When did she start caring about others?
This time when the bottle was brought back to her mouth, it was to wash down the handful of little white tablets that she'd thrown against her tongue. She choked them back, grimacing when they scratched her throat and the vodka still burned and her eyes burned and the tears burned. But it wouldn't hurt for much longer.
IXIXIXI
"Chas, have you seen Charity?" Vanessa rushed up to the bar, ponytail swinging behind her. The brunette woman looked a little peaky but other than that seemed okay. At the mention of her cousin's name, she rolled her eyes, propping her elbow on the bar.
"Not since earlier. We tried talking sense into her but you know what she's like."
Vanessa winced, biting her lip in concern. The second she'd told Charity to go home she'd regretted the decision, but Tracy hadn't been home for another half hour and she'd needed someone to see to Johnny before she went chasing after her inebriated girlfriend.
"She came to see me but she was steaming and Johnny was home. I told her to go and now she's not answering my calls."
"Oh I wouldn't worry, she'll be wallowing. You know she ran over the dog?"
Vanessa nodded, Charity had stormed into her home raging about how if she'd have been given half the care and attention that mutt had, she'd have never been in the position she was now. She was about to try the other blonde's number again when a customer sidled up to the bar, a frown across her features.
"Excuse me, I think there's someone passed out in the toilets." She explained, jabbing her thumb in the direction of them as if Chas didn't own the place. "The door's locked from the inside, I've tried knocking and calling but there's no answer."
Vanessa exchanged a look of dread with Chas, the darker haired woman's expression quickly turning stormy. There was only one person it could be.
"Oh she is so in for it." Charity's cousin seethed, shouting through to the kitchen in a demand of Marlon's presence. Instead, a hassled looking Victoria came out of the kitchen, cheeks flushed with stress.
"He's had to go to David's, we've had a disaster with the Tuscan olive oil."
Chas didn't even give her chance to explain what had gone wrong now, she didn't need the stress. As long as it was dealt with, her main priority was extracting the apparently semi-conscious Dingle (because it just had to be her) from the toilets before anyone else could make a complaint. If it wasn't for the benefit of her customers, Chas thought she might have left her there to fester. But in the highly unlikely event that it wasn't Charity at all, this issue was definitely a main priority.
"Right well you'll have to do, come on."
Confused but willing, Victoria followed the other two women through to the ladies toilets. It was eerily silent and Vanessa gave a hard push against the first cubicle door. Locked.
"Charity?" She called out, knocking on the door loud enough so that her knuckles protested.
It was still silent.
"Right, Vic, look under and see if it's her." Chas nodded.
The young chef looked outraged. She gestured to the sticky floor in disgust, turning her nose up at the idea.
"I work with food, I'm not rolling about in the bogs!"
"Well look over, then! I can't, can I?" Chas pointed obviously to her bump and Victoria rolled her eyes, pushing the adjacent cubicle door open and huffing slightly as she used the tip of her boot to flip the seat down with a heavy clang and climb atop of it. There was the whoosh of a flush then, she'd accidentally stepped on the metal presser in her bid to climb higher.
Then there was a sound that turned Vanessa's blood to ice.
The scream that tore from Victoria's throat made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck rise, fear prickling across her shoulders. It was blood curdling, the chef nearly fell from where her hands were curled tightly around the top of the cubicle wall in her terror.
"Call an ambulance!"
"What's happened? Is it her? Is she hurt?" Vanessa fired off, all for dragging the chef down and climbing over herself. Chas sprang to action and pulled her phone from her pocket, watching Victoria come stumbling out, her previously flushed face now nearing grey.
"She's- She's-" But it was all Victoria could manage, her dark eyes filling with tears.
"What? She's what? Tell me!" Vanessa had took hold of her shoulders, to shake her or move her aside she wasn't sure, the panic had seized the back of her throat because whatever it was, it was bad.
"Kick the door in!" Chas instructed, gabbling down the line for an ambulance, just about managing to splutter her address to the operator. "Well I don't know what's happened. Vic-"
"She's done something. I don't know. She's hurt." Was all the young girl offered, already gearing herself to aim a swift kick at the door.
"Don't kick it in, you might hurt her!" Vanessa cried, fumbling in her bag in blind panic. She was in a state. Her hands were shaking so badly that when she finally unzipped her purse, loose change spilled from it, rolling under cubicles and spinning against the hard bathroom floor, causing a series of shrill rings to echo around the room. "It's only a turn lock, I'll get it from the outside."
Willing her hands to stop trembling, because this was important and she needed to get to Charity, she slotted the coin against the lock and gave it a firm twist, until the red 'engaged' sign flicked to green with a loud click. The tears were present on her cheeks even before she'd pushed the door open. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, her head pulsing as she carefully pushed the door open, a slow, ominous creak revealing the horror that she knew would be forever imprinted on her brain, would paint the backs of her eyelids when she slept. If she ever slept again. If she ever did anything again because her heart had stopped in her chest, all the air sucked from her lungs with one sharp cry.
"Charity!"
It was her.
Slumped on the toilet seat, head lolling against the back wall. Blonde tresses were in disarray across her face, hiding pale, clammy skin from view. One side of the cubicle was splashed with sick, it was dashed up the wall, splattered across the ground and in it lay the empty vodka bottle that had slid from the woman's limp hand. But it wasn't that bottle that had caught Vanessa's eye, her terrified gaze had homed in on the plastic tube that was missing a cap, medicine label curling at the sides from nights of Charity's anxious picking at it. It was empty.
"No, oh God no. What have you done? What have you done?!" A strangled sob tore from Vanessa's throat as she stumbled towards her lifeless girlfriend, wedging herself onto the toilet seat beside her and frantically pulling her upright, her breath erratic. She slid one hand behind her neck and used the other to push her hair from her face. Parts of it were clumped and sticky, they must have fallen in front of her when she was throwing up, but Vanessa didn't pay a blind bit of notice to that.
"Charity, can you hear me?" She asked desperately, her hand against the other woman's cheek. "It's me, it's Vanessa."
With one hand supporting her head, she used two fingertips from the other to carefully part her mouth. She couldn't see any obtrusions to her airway but she wasn't a doctor and she was panicking, her breath ragged even as she willed herself to calm down and focus.
"She's overdosed." Chas was still talking to the advisor, her voice robotic, factual, face frozen in horror at the scene before her.
The blonde's eyes were closed, mouth slack and if Vanessa had let her go she'd have fallen forward. But she didn't let her go, she pulled her towards her chest and took the full weight of her, one arm around winding around her shoulders while the other grappled at her hand, trying to feel for a pulse.
Please be there, please, I'll do anything, anything-
"Yes!" The relief that flooded through her was mere momentary, because the weak, slow throb against her fingertips was only a very dull spark of hope. Time wasn't on their side.
"Tell them to hurry up! There's a pulse, but it's weak."
She watched Chas echo her words into the phone, the hot pressure of terror still squeezing around her entire being. It was suffocating.
"Do we know how many she's taken?"
With one arm still firmly gripping Charity to her side, Vanessa reached down and plucked the bottle of sleeping tablets from where is had been discarded. She hadn't even realised the other woman had been taking any, hadn't known they were needed. The label bore the recommended dosage but the original pack size must have been peeled away. Casting her blurred gaze to the ground, could see at least three that had been brought back up, undigested and congealed in the meagre and mainly-liquid contents of Charity's stomach. Tears burned the backs of her eyes and fell hot against her cheeks as she shook her head.
Both of her arms were now secured around her girlfriend, her hold desperate, both of them quivering with the ferocity of Vanessa's sobbing. The tip of her nose nudged away blonde locks and she touched her lips Charity's forehead, scattering frenzied kisses against her skin, tears dripping onto her marble face.
"The ambulance won't be long." Chas's own cheeks were damp, she was stood with her arm around Victoria, who was watching the scene with glassy eyes.
Vanessa gave a sharp nod but didn't take her eyes away from the still woman in her arms. Her heart was still thumping, every single beat bludgeoning her chest. It hurt, so much that she had to screw her eyes up tight, trying to shut unbearable thought that she might lose her. She couldn't. Not now, not ever.
"Please," She begged, to who she didn't know. Anyone. A god she didn't believe in, to fate, to Charity herself, willing the other blonde to just hang on in there because her heart would never repair itself if she lost her and there was no way in hell that Charity had been through all she had for it to mean nothing. There was so much left for her to live for. "Please, don't leave me."
A/n: I've been sat on this fic for a while now, because I've been very nervous about posting it. I thought I'd test the waters by publishing it on here while I wait for my Ao3 invite. Thank you to those who gave this a go!
