The Wall Between Us

Chapter 18-come home to roost

"The past is never dead. It's not even past." - William Faulkner

NATHAN

"Not again," I sighed, rising from my bed after Annabelle's father-Mr Martin's persistent calls had woken me up at five and alerted me of Annabelle's attempted suicide.

That explains the continual calls from her family yesterday. All the time I ignored, thinking it was wedding-plans related, she'd been in the hospital. I couldn't help the guilt that rose in my chest. What if she did it because of the way I'd been treating her. Lord knows it wasn't intentional. Lifting my head from my head and pushing myself off the bed, I quickly put on a T-shirt over the sweatpants I had on. With my car still at Shiro, I picked the key of the abandoned car in my garage-the one Ivan's boyfriend had transferred the trackers to and headed out.

****
The cool morning air and heavy smell of disinfectants had wiped every trace of sleep from my eyes by the time I walked into Annabelle's hospital room. The nagging headache from my drinking bout last night still there and I tried to keep my mind off Enitan or her date with the doctor-and the fact that she refused to change her mind about letting him into her life.

Mrs Amara Martin's bulky frame rested on the single armless settee in the middle of the room-beside the bed while her tired eyes stared at me without any expression. I knew she was angry that I ignored their calls and just showed up many hours after her daughter had tried to kill herself. But she could conceal her emotions, unlike her stout husband who's wicked grin was permanent on his obese face. Thankfully he was no where in sight. One Martins was more than enough for my hungover self to handle at six am.

"I'm sorry, I just heard. Yesterday was too much to handle-at the office," I blurted. "And I was too tired for my phone by the time I arrived home."

"Of course," she nodded with pursed lips while her large eyes scrutinized me from head to toe.

"What happened?" I asked, hoping to take her attention off me.

"Martha found her unconscious on her bedroom floor yesterday," she sighed, lazily standing up from the settee and walking to Annabelle's side. "Doctor said she overdosed on Morphine and we're lucky to have found her on time."

I pitied Martha, Annabelle's younger sister who had somehow become the older sister over years.

"But how? This wasn't supposed to happen again."

She'd been diagnosed of Schizophrenia and bipolar disorder years ago. She'd get overly excited and hopeful during her manic episodes, that. But during one of her depressive episodes, she tried to slit her wrist out of guilt for almost pushing me over the balcony of her house during an argument, that I couldn't handle. The doctors said things were going to get better with continuous medication and therapy.

"Well, her sister found untouched packs of Latuda and Valproate in her night stand drawers. Apparently she'd stopped taking her meds-" she sighed as she adjusted the pillow under Annabelle's sleeping head. "I guess she got overwhelmed with everything."

My heart fell, I knew how difficult the previous years were for her, her family, and me. My eyes travelled to Annabelle. Was I so terrible that she gave up trying. She wanted to get better-well enough to be in a perfect frame of mind for the press and glamour life.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. Strolling to Mrs Martins side, I placed my palms lightly on her hands. "You should go home, have some rest and change of clothes, I'll stay here for a while."

She nodded weakly, kissing Annabelle on the head. She walked to the chair and picked up her scarf then turned back to me. "Please take care of her."