Chapter Four

Machine gunfire sounded, Mathilda and Ian fell to the ground, and Mathilda glanced at Ian and froze. His chest was not moving; blood was pooling around him and forming a sticky puddle on the floor of her living room. The rescue attempt had failed. He was dead.

Mathilda walked into the bathroom and threw up. The day was warm and muggy. Mathilda felt as though she was wading in her own sweat since there was so much humidity. However, that was not why she was throwing up. Today was the day she had organized to free Ian from gaol on, and she was nervous, in fact, she was scared to death.

Mathilda brushed her teeth and gurgled mouthwash for the fifth time that morning. She had a whole day to patronize and think of all the things that could go wrong. In particular, the last vivid image of her dream from last night scared her the most.

She had dreamt the whole rescue; the ending however, was what had upset her. She and Ian had gotten safely to her house, they were celebrating with drinks when machine gun fire had scattered through the house. Ian and her fell to the ground for protection, the gunfire had ceased, she had heard evil, heartless laughs and someone spitting on the ground. Mathilda glanced at Ian and froze, his eyes were glassy, staring straight ahead, his chest was still, blood soaking through his clothing and covering the floor. That was when she had woken up, but the image refused to leave her mind.

Mathilda leant against the basin staring in the mirror, trying to think of a different solution to the one that her mind was presenting to her.

'I shouldn't, its bad for me, and I swore not to anymore. I've quit.' She muttered, a small voice in her head retaliated,

"Precisely, you are not addicted, and there is no other way that you can calm down, and you need to be calm during this rescue, you have enough for three shots, one now, one at lunch, and one an hour before you go and save Ian. Is it worth risking his life for something as petty as you couldn't handle calming yourself down?" she shook her head and bit her bottom lip. Mathilda looked into the mirror and saw the image of Ian's dead body, blood pooling around it. She decided to use what little she had left.

Mathilda walked into her broom closet and opened the secret cupboard in the back of it, she pulled out what she needed and shut it again. Mathilda put her gear on the table and checked the yard to make sure no one was around to interrupt. When she was sure that they were not, she sat on the lounge and tied a belt tightly around her upper arm, so that her vein was easy to see. With that, she took the cap off the needle and injected the drug into her. It eased her mind immediately. She flopped back on the lounge and closed her eyes as she floated in and out of reality. She barely remembered to undo the belt around her arm. She smiled, trying to think about why she had quit, then she remembered. It had been for Ian.

"Oh Christ Mathilda, not again, give me that shit, here the needle, and the bottle, Ahh you're a fucking mess Mat." Ian said as he snatched the gear off Mathilda and threw it into the bin, Mathilda stared at him,

"You fucking bastard, that's expensive crap that is, give it back." Ian slapped her hard,

"No, look Mathilda, this isn't good for you. You're killing yourself by doing this. Please stop, please?" Mathilda looked at his face and started to laugh; he sighed and shook his head.

"You been smoking crack as well Mat? Why am I even asking, I can smell the alcohol on you, Ahh here we are what's this bottle say, Rum, oh and this one is Vodka, oh and a Guinness as well, oh Mathilda you're a bloody mess." Mathilda had sunken into the couch and was just sitting there watching him contently.

Ian shook his head,

"Come on, get up Mat." She attempted but as soon as she did, the world began to spin and twirl, her head became light, and her eyelids felt like lead. Her body collapsed and she fell back onto the couch.

"Ah shit." Ian cursed as he knocked over the table, sending the rest of her gear flying; Mathilda was too far gone to notice at this stage.

Ian picked Mathilda up in his arms and carried her into his bedroom. She was the only one of his crew to live with him, she usually slept in the loft bedroom, but he wanted to keep an eye on her in this state. He gently placed Mat onto the bed and tried to think of how to remove her shirt, it was very tight, and he doubted that it would be healthy to sleep in. He sighed and took of her shoes and socks first, then he, as gently as possible removed her shirt and jeans. A cool breeze caused Mathilda to roll over and snuggle into the blankets that she lay on. Ian picked her up again, threw back the blankets, and lay her down. He then walked over to his cupboard, pulled out a large old shirt off his, and put it on her, then with his hand under her shirt he removed her restricting bra. Ian placed her clothes over the chair and watched Mathilda squirm as she tried to get comfortable. He hated seeing her like this, she wasn't the only one of his crew to do drugs and drink, but seeing her like this affected him badly, probably because it had been her intelligence that had captivated him the most about her, in this state, she had none. Another cold breeze entered the room and caused goose bumps to rise over Mathilda's bare legs, Ian sighed and pulled the feather blankets over her and kissed her neck.

"Sleep well Mat." He murmured and walked back into the lounge room, where he cleaned up all of Mathilda's junk and threw it out. He would stop her using, it would be hard, but he had to stop her.

Ian had stopped her from using; he had stayed by her side through the worst and best of it too. Now, in order to save him, she was going back and doing what he did not want her to do.

It was five when Mathilda awoke to her chock chiming. She yawned and stretched, her bleary eyes focused on her gear on the table. She shook her head, ashamed with herself. She packed it up and put the rest of it away. It was time to get ready to go and rescue Ian.