Page 15 of The Price We Pay For Love

CHAPTER TWELVE

Phoebe

Eminem blares from my speakers. My blood pumps through my veins as I grab the second to last picture on my bookcase and throw it into the black bin bag. Mr. Mathers may be cleaning out his closet, but I’m cleaning out my history. I don’t want any reminders of Freddie Fucking Camden in my home.

My hand hesitates over the picture he so carefully caressed the other night as the memory floods through my senses. The way he stood in awe of it. And how it took me right back to that night around the campfire.

Instead of romanticising about nights that are long gone, why don’t you remember the one that happened a couple of days ago, that left you huddled on the sofa and eating ice cream like it was going out of fashion. Remember the pain that ripped through your heart when you read his texts. Remember that night. Not one from years ago.

I mentally scold myself, force the doubt from my mind, and grab the frame. I deliberately avoid looking at the picture andstart to place it in the bag when my phone distracts me with an incoming call.

Casting the bag to the floor and the frame onto the sofa, I search for my phone in the rubble that is supposed to be my living room. Just as I find it under a pile of old magazines, it stops ringing. Typical.

I quickly open the screen to see who was calling and freeze when Freddie’s name comes up. Anger bubbles inside of me. He hasn’t contacted me since I told him not to, but now that he’s spoken to Lola he wants to call and make things right? Well too little too late. I’m not calling him back.

As soon as my mind’s made up, the phone rings and vibrates in my palm. Freddie again. This time it’s his landline. Indecisiveness mixes with my anger and I bite on my bottom lip, furiously trying to decide whether to answer and give him a piece of my mind or not.

Before I can decide, it stops. I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s short lived as it rings instantly again. He obviously isn’t going to stop until he gets through to me, so I swipe the screen and answer with a simple, “What?” Gasping comes from the other end and my anger fades into worry. “Freddie, are you okay?”

“Pheebs… My heart. I can’t… It's hurting.”

I can’t understand him. His heart is hurting? What does he mean? Physically or metaphorically?

“I don’t want to die without telling you I love you. Always have. This pain, it’s different… argh.” He cries out in pain and the phone goes dead.

I scream his name but he isn’t there. I dial 999 while grabbing my keys and sprinting toward my car.

“Emergency. Which service?” The operator's voice is soothing and calming but it’s not having the desired effect on me.

“Freddie Camden. I think he’s having a heart attack. He just called me in pain.” I rattle off his address to the operator and drive like a bat out of hell to get to him.

I burst through his front door to find him strapped to a stretcher with an oxygen mask on his face. “Freddie.” I call out to him and his eyes open. His skin is grey and clammy but his eyes light up when he sees me.

“Excuse me, Miss. Are you family?” A paramedic stops me from getting to him and before I can reply, Freddie lifts the oxygen mask slightly and mutters out ‘my wife’. The paramedic steps aside and I rush to him.

“Freddie…” I choke out a sob and clutch his hand tightly in mine.

The paramedics wheel him through the house and out into the ambulance. I try not to focus on the speed at which we’re travelling, signalling to me just how much danger he’s in, and instead listen to the beeps of the machine monitoring his heart. I fixate on the whoosh of the oxygen being pumped into him and hold onto his hand as tightly as I can. I lean down and whisper into his ear, “Don’t even think about leaving me again, Freddie. I won’t have it, you hear me.” His lips tip up slightly but his eyes remain closed. The aching in my heart is nothing compared to the pain he must be in, but if I lose him now I don’t think it’ll ever recover.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Freddie

Beep.

Where am I?

Beep.

What’s that noise?

Beep.

It’s pretty fucking annoying. Why can’t I open my eyes?

Beep.

I can’t move my legs. What’s going on?

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