The Boy with the Whiplash Tattoo

Sixteen

My vision blurred, and not just from the tears. Blood pounded painfully in my ears. My stomach contracted, I felt too sick to even breathe.
I was lying on the bathroom floor, but I didn't know how I got there. I didn't know why I had a dry, metallic taste in my mouth.
I turned and hunched over the toilet, clinging onto it for support. Then I shoved my fingers down my throat until I heaved. Warm burning liquid poured into the bowl.

I didn't hear the front door open. I didn't hear Aaron call out,
"I forgot something."
He must have heard me retch again, my entire body shaking with sobs, as I rubbed my eyes to try and clear my vision, so I could see where I was vomiting. He came in. I turned my body away from him, trying to hide my face behind my hair, because I didn't want him to see me like this.

"What have you done?!" He shouted, but I didn't really hear him, I must've imagined him, there was no way he was really there, no way he'd come back to save me. It was only wishful thinking.
He grabbed my hands, pushing my hair out of my face. He grabbed a scrunchy from the pot on the counter, tying it up quickly like he'd done it a thousand times before.
He'd forgotten his phone, it was clutched in his fist, his knuckles were white from how tight he was holding it. He started to dial.
"No," I spluttered, still crying uncontrollably. But he waved me away.
"Yes. Can I have an ambulance please..." His voice faded away as I started to lose consciousness again. "My wife..."
His words shook me awake. I wasn't his wife. You don't leave your wife all alone with her thoughts and fears and terrible, terrible ideas.
"She has taken too much medication." He sounded so stiff and formal as usual, as if he was at a funeral.
I giggled a little at that, although it probably sounded more like I was blowing my nose. Maybe he would be at a funeral very soon.

He turned off the phone and sat down behind me, pulling me into his chest and holding me close.
"I'm sorry," he whispered into my hair and rocked me gently like a small child.

It didn't make me feel better. It only made me feel small and stupid and more helpless than I'd felt in a long time. I didn't have the strength though, to pull myself from his embrace.