Page 100 of Voracious

She needed me, and I let her down. The person who was supposed to love her – to make her feel fucking safe.

I’m a piece of shit, and she really does deserve better.

My phone starts ringing as I hit a long, narrow stretch of road with no lights, closed in by tall trees. I swear to myself and bend down to get it, but as I lift it to see it’s Bernie, my wheel hits the kerb, my body jolts and I’m swerving the entire car to the side before it starts rolling.

Each time it hits the ground, glass shatters, my head bouncing off the frame, and my airbag explodes to protect me. I must flip about six times before colliding with a tree, and I’m not sure if I pass out, or if time just stops, but I’m upside down, blood rushing to my head, ears ringing painfully.

I choke, groaning at the rush of adrenaline shoving aside the pain. I unclip my belt, grab my phone and crawl out of the broken window. Palms cutting on the glass, I push to stand. My left arm is fucked – the bone is poking through my skin, and I’m limping as I hold my ribs. Blood is pissing down my face from my head, but I force my feet to keep moving.

I need to get to her.

I need Stacey.

Blinding pain mixes with deep emotions of regret and heartbreak, and I’m fucking crying again as I topple to the ground and cough up ruby red into my hand.

No. I need to keep moving.

I roll onto my back, hold my breath and lurch to my feet – only to fall again.

So I crawl. I’ll crawl the entire fucking way to Stacey if I need to.

My vision is blurring – worse than any drug reaction I’ve had. I screw my eyes shut and try to focus. Block out everything. Focus on getting to my feet and walking; hell, running if I can.

But I fall onto my back once more and just lie here, staring at the moon shining through the treetops.

I like this. Us lying in the grass and watching the stars. You’re usually a moody prick. Hey! I was kidding! I just mean it’s relaxing. I think if I ever took my last breaths outside, I’d like to be able to see the moon. It’s beautiful.

Stacey’s voice is in my head. Surely I’m not already dead?

I’m so cold though.

A shaking, sliced-open hand pulls my cracked phone from my pocket as I dial Stacey’s number one last time. I deserve this. I deserve it all. The excruciating pain, the karma, the blood spilling from my wounds so I’m lying in a puddle of crimson liquid.

“Hi, you’re through to Stacey. Leave a message.”

God, I miss her voice. I miss her.

My throat is tense, but I swallow blood and tears and make it clear, so she can understand everything I say.

“Hey, Freckles.” I bite my lip and screw my face up as my ribs burn, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for not knowing what you went through or giving you a chance to explain what happened. I should have heard you out. I should have stayed. But you need to listen.” I wince and pull the phone away, so she can’t hear my groan of pain. “They know who you are, and what we were. They’re going to come for you. Please. Please, baby, you need to run. Run, and don’t you dare turn back. Get away from all of them. You… you hear m-me?” My eyes close, and my phone slides out of my hand, but I quickly grab it. “Please hide, please.”

My vision goes dark, and the tremble in my bones stops.

“I n-never stopped loving you.” My heart is fucking sore, but I need to get this last part out. I know I’m dying. But the only thing I’m worried about is her getting the fuck away from those evil pricks. “I will… will always lo-love you, Freckles. Go, live your life and be free. Meet someone who can tr-treat you ri-ight. For-for-forget me.”

I can’t hear anything, not even my heartbeat.

“Pl-please for… forgive me. B-Be safe and ha-ha-happy. I love you. I…” The phone slides again, and I have no energy left to finish my sentence, but as long as she knows I loved her, that she meant the world to me, that she is fucking special and deserves everything that makes her happy – then I’ve said all I need to.

A hand touches my face, but I can’t see through the blood in my eyes from the gaping wound in my head.

Stacey? Is that you?

Mum?

But it’s Bernie’s voice in my ear. Faint, but enough that I can make out what she’s saying. “Oh, silly me. Did I forget to mention Stacey fled the country? New phone. ID.Everything. You’ll never find her, but guess what? I will.”

She wipes my eyes with a cloth, and I can just make out a medic hovering over me.

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