Page 44 of Cuts Like an Angel: Part 2

Chapter Twenty-Three

William

William’s hands and knees shook so fucking bad, he could hardly walk, hardly think. The pressure of those words pressed in his mind, pressing down, sending agony coursing through his body. His chest ached—his sternum about ready to break. He couldn’t get enough air in. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think. Fuck. He was an idiot. The biggest fucking idiot in the world.

Fuck.

She was leaving. Leaving. She was just like the rest of them and he was just the idiot his mother had told him he was. Maria was right, that bitch. Always fucking right. He knew it. Why didn’t he listen? She might have been nasty with her words, mean, malicious, but everything … absolutely everything she ever said to him came true. Maybe she wasn’t malicious, maybe it was just that he was a dreamer, and she was a realist and the two didn’t go together.

He could still hear Rosie calling his name, but fuck it. Fuck her. He wasn’t going back. She could get on that damn plane and leave. He never … never … wanted to see her again. Or hear from her. His phone buzzed like crazy in his pocket. One long series of lies and bullshit.

He raced away from the hospital. Running until he couldn’t any more. Running until he reached the park a good mile away ... His place. His safe place. Seeing it come into view, he raced across the road, raced across to the park, standing on the bridge. That bridge … if only he had drowned that night. If only he had hit his head when he jumped. Why hadn’t he died that night?

He came to a stop, breathless and panting, pulling out his phone, Rosie’s name flashed across his screen. Message after message. He opened it, not reading. No. Not now. He wasn’t falling for that shit again.

Leave me alone, he hammered into the screen.

I never want to see you again.

You lied. You lied to me.

Send, send, send. He did it in a frenzy. Every single letter he punched into the screen sent his manic brain another notch higher until he was holding his breath and his head pounded with it.

Go away, Rosie. Leave me alone.

He typed so hard it was a wonder he didn’t break the screen with the effort. He couldn’t breathe. He bent over, pressing the phone to his face. Holding it there. Buzz, buzz, buzz was all he got against his forehead.

He held the phone down by his side, shaking his head. “No. I’m not listening to you. I'm never listening to you again. Get out of my life.”

I trusted you, he typed.

I’m a fucking idiot. I trusted you.

Leave me alone.

He didn’t know her, did he? Not really. He’d trusted her, though. He had felt he could. Stupid fucking William. Trusting people, again. When would he learn? When?

“I deserve this. I so fucking deserve this.”

He ground his jaw down until his bones ached, breathing harshly through his teeth. His eyes searching for where to go. He had run a fair distance to get to the park. Maybe Rosie would get home now and pack. Maybe she would leave.

She’d touched him last night, taken him, and he had let her. Just like he let everyone else. That was all he was made for, Maria had told him so, too. She was right about that, as well. Right about everything.

His phone rang this time. Rosie’s name flashed across the screen.

“No. No,” he said to the phone, declining the call and shutting off the sound. He stalked like a madman through the park and out of the other side of it to the main road, to town. There was an off licence there. He raced over to it, someone in a blue car honking at him, but he ignored them.

Hit me and put me out of my misery, or move along.

“Whisky please,” he said almost yelling at the poor wide-eyed woman behind the counter.

“What brand?”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugged. “Just grab one.” He pulled his wallet out and fished out a twenty, slamming it down on the counter. “Whatever I can get with this.”

She pulled a bottle down, no brand he had heard of and then gave him his change. William snatched the bottle off the counter. “No need to bag it. It won’t last that long,” he shot, before leaving as fast as he had come in, the chime above the door clanging.

He didn’t have a destination in mind, and he didn’t really care where he ended up. He got onto the main road and then decided that maybe Rosie would come this way, so he nipped down the back and just walked. Walking until the promenade came into view, with its happy pier and Ferris wheel and sickeningly equally happy families …

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