[[Wow, how long has it been since I last updated? I am not sure how well this is going to go, but here goes…. J. Oh and thank you for the reviews so far J]]
Over the next few months, I go from one b'n'b to the next. Money is wearing thin, and my mind is becoming even more over come with guilt, with each day that passes. Everyday I am in tears thinking about Jack and Millie, and how me leaving has messed everything up so much.
I know Jack would never forgive me for running. It's all I ever seem to do when things get tough. I am so weak. Weaker than even I had imagined I was.
I sit on the corner of the bed in the latest dark, dingy, damp room, with tears streaming from my eyes. I take my phone from the bottom of my bag and turned it on for the first time in three weeks. I am so used to being bombarded with text messages, usually from Jack and Roxy asking where I am, and almost demanding I get in contact and I have been tempted to reply, but I can't. When I flick through the forty three unread messages, I notice that one of them is from Peggy.
Peggy had been more of a mother to me than my own mother. I was distraught when she left the square last year. I poured my heart out to her the day she left, I told her about the pregnancy before I had even told Jack. I begged her not to go, admitted I was scared hoping that she would stay, and yet here I was, having done the same thing. Only now, I understand why she went.
I cannot let myself read the message. I cannot have anybody changing my mind. I can't go back to the square and have everybody hate me for what I had done. I hate myself too much already.
Slowly but surely, I'm slipping further and further into this dark place. I have been keeping it at bay so far, telling myself that leaving my husband and daughter was the right thing to do. Weakness has taken over now though, and I cannot stop it.
I dig into my bag, grabbing the cold glass bottle that had been suffocated by my clothing in the hope it would protect it from smashing. A bottle of Vodka. My only companion. Before, when I was back home, every night before bed, I would have a shot of vodka, but now, now it seems I need at least half a bottle for my body to even contemplate sleep.
There is one problem though. The bottle is virtually empty. I clamber through my only possessions. Searching my purse for the only money I have left. £7.68. I honestly don't care if I cannot eat tonight, as long as I get my bottle of vodka.
I quickly pull my jacket around me and leave the b'n'b. I walk down the road, searching for a shop that sells alcohol. It isn't long before I come across a Tesco express. Briskly walking through the automatic doors, I take a deep breath as pure desperation takes over me. I make my way to the alcohol section and quickly find the selection of vodka. I cannot afford the name brand, but I couldn't care less. I grabbed the cheapest bottle I can find and dash to the checkout to pay for it.
The cashier looks me up and down, giving me a dirty look as if she can read me like a book. I know what she thinks of me. She thinks I alcohol dependant. She thinks I am just another scrounger who puts alcohol first. I guess she is right at this moment in time.
I pay for the bottle, not bothering with a carrier bag and walk out of the shop as fast as my feet will carry me. When I am outside, I simply open the bottle and take a swig out of it there and then. I don't know what I have turned into. I feel trampish.
Walking back down the road, I take my time. It's not as though I have anything to rush back for. Rain begins to fall, and I find it almost relaxing. The sound as it hit's the windscreens of standing cars in rhythm with my heart beat. Then, I start to think. Everything that had happened replays in my mind over and over again as I slowly walk back to the hovel in which I will stay for the next few nights.
I don't even realise that I have walked straight past it until I get to a road that I do not recognise. Clearly noticing that I have gone too far, I turn on my heels. That's when I notice him. A man, in washed out jeans, and a baggy blue hoody. I freeze to the spot. He is staring at me, and I suddenly feel completely petrified.
Had he been following me? Why hadn't I even noticed?
He starts to walk towards me. Still staring me right in the eye. I cannot move though. I feel my breath hitch in my throat, and I feel like I cannot breathe. An evil grin takes over his features, reminding me of a lion as it is about to pounce on it's prey. He grabs my arm tightly, digging his fingers into my fragile feeling skin. I cannot even bring myself to fight back.
In that instance, I knew what was about to happen. I knew I was in trouble. Perhaps this is what they call karma.
[[Hmmm. What do you think? This wasn't the initial plan of this storyline, but I have not written for like ages and thought I would and this just popped into my head. It's almost 3am. Damn those pot pixies! Please R&R. Much love.]]
