Chapter 3

Scotty felt a growing frustration at himself as he entered his apartment. He went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of scotch. He had had enough of feeling this way; it was as if he wasn't even him. Like the part of him that he knew of as Scotty Valens had been locked up in a cage inside of him, slamming at the bars to break free but his sounds were swallowed by a vacuum. He took a sip and just he was about to put the glass down on the counter, he stopped and looked at it, suddenly remembering Lilly's words that morning. The consequences catch up and they won't just affect you. He knew she was right. Those consequences, those damn consequences!

The self-loathing kicked in. If he hadn't been so selfish he would have stayed with Elisa and helped her. He should have stayed with her, but he left her, more than likely hurt her and now she's dead. She's dead because of me. I was supposed to have loved her, to be there for her..when she needed me, but I wasn't! I wasn't!

He lifted up his glass and threw it against the wall, shattering it into pieces. Good. He felt anger. That was a start. But he needed more. He walked over to the living room and began pushing the furniture against the walls, feeling the anger building in him as he did so. Thoughts of his betrayal swirling round and round in his head, never letting up. Getting more and more intense. Once he'd finished move the furniture back he picked up his skipping rope and began to jump, his wet clothes made it more difficult than usual but he didn't care. Still he was unable to cry. What the hell is wrong with me? He thought, then continued his onslaught on himself, with each thought he stomped the ground harder. He wanted to hurt himself.

You loved her but you let her down! He told himself and he hit the ground harder.

She was your girl since you were 14 and you betrayed her.

He could feel his heart rate rise now and he was breathing harder. He wanted to push himself more; he wanted to keep going until he could feel pain.

You said you wanted to marry her and then you flew when she got sick! Scotty's face began to turn red. He kept going.

She trusted you! The rhythm of his feet now sounded like the thudding of his heart. Thud.

She loved you! Thud.

Now she's gone! Thud, thud!

She's never coming back!

That was it, all the pain, all the guilt and all the remorse crashed into him like a powerful tidal wave and he felt his kneels buckle at the force. He slumped down onto the floor, wrapping the skipping rope around him and he began to cry. It was a stark contrast to before. Whereas then he had tried desperately to summon even one tear, now he found he could not hold them back. They washed over him, like a flood, cleansing him almost. He felt the pain he'd been suppressing come at him with a vengeance. Sadness crept through the pain and anger like a dark lava slowly emerging after being buried deeply for centuries, burning him deeply. It was a burning ache, which he felt to his core. How would his world be without her now? How would he be able to live with himself, knowing that maybe if he'd only made some different choices, things could have turned out differently? Would his heart ever stop hurting? How would he manage to keep it together each time something reminded him of this terrible tragedy?

If he was honest with himself, he didn't know what to do, how to move forward at that particular moment. His world was crashing down around him and all he could do was just sit there, the tears slowly falling from his eyes, feeling helpless and alone. He sat there, crying silently for about 20 minutes before he finally decided that he would take a shower.

He turned on the water and was soon surrounded by a cloud of steam. The water was a little too hot to be comfortable but Scotty didn't mind. He hoped that maybe the heat from the water would help clear his mind and it felt comforting in a way, being surrounded by warmth – a stark contrast to the coldness he felt inside. He stayed there for a while, trying to put things into some kind of perspective, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, but he was unsuccessful. He just couldn't get his head around why things had turned out the way they did. Suicide. Scotty tried to think about any warning signs that would have told him Elisa was headed for that. He turned it over in his mind as but he could not convince himself that this was inevitable. He just refused to believe that she would take her own life. Even the letter she had written him was full of hope, full of life, as she had been, even when she had gotten sick, she still had that spark of joy, of an intangible innocence about her. There was no way he could have seen this happening. That thought was at once both comforting and startling. He prided himself in his detective instincts but it made him realise that there are just some things in life he won't be able to see. He beat himself up over the things he should have told her, while there was still time. He missed her. Missed the sound of her voice, her presence, her smile, her warmth and her scent. And he realised that when Elisa had taken her own life, she had taken a part of him with her too. And like her, that piece of him would never come back. She was his first love. And he would never love a woman like he loved her.

Scotty eventually got out of the shower and put on some sweatpants and a t-shirt, he then headed for the kitchen to get himself something to eat. It was the first time since he learnt of her death that he actually felt hungry. Maybe the crying had done him some good, he thought.

On his way he passed by the coffee table as he heard his cell phone buzz, alerting him to a text message. He checked it and saw that there were voicemail messages from his mum, his brother, Will and Lilly and a text from Nick. He smiled. They were checking in on him, making sure he was okay. As much as he wanted to torture himself, he knew Lilly was right, that it would not only affect him but those around him too, the people who cared, And he realised in that moment that there were people who cared about him, people who would be there for him, even if he just wanted to push them away, and realising this he knew that someday, they would help take the ache he felt away.