All the Things We Never Said, page 23
It’s something I’ve felt a lot over the past few months
but today there are new
depths to it.
So
deep,
I’m wallowing in it,
SUFFOCATING in it,
rather than the numbness being a relief,
a protection.
The phone is buzzing from the opposite side of the living room.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Pause.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here.
Minutes? Hours? Days?
Ever since he walked into the room,
told me,
‘I’m here to fix things with your mother,’
and they disappeared into the kitchen
to chat.
I’ve been following their movements,
eavesdropping,
even though it’s rude.
They’re upstairs now,
I can hear feet padding in the master bedroom.
The squeak of the pipes as the shower turns on.
Numbness isn’t enough
to protect my heart.
It starts HAMMERING
as another pair of feet,
a heavier set,
skip back downstairs
towards the living room.
Towards me.
‘Miss me?’
Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t look.
He steps further into the room
and I can feel his presence,
his SHADOW
looming
behind me.
‘Come on, Liv, aren’t you going to welcome me home?’
LIV. He calls me Liv.
HOME
noun
The place where one lives permanently,
especially as a member of a family
or a household.
‘I saw an interesting photo online today.’
He’s in front of me now.
My eyes SNAP up.
His gaze is glued to my body
and I feel so suddenly
EXPOSED.
He holds his phone in one hand
and waggles it.
I JUMP off the sofa.
The picture.
My picture
is
spread
across his screen.
He’s seen it.
He’s seen me.
He thinks I’m
asking for it.
‘It’s what brought me back.
Knowing you were waiting for me.
Willing as always.’
He steps closer.
So close
his breath
falls on my face,
warms my cheeks.
‘Next time though,
take off another layer.’
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
In my chest, my ears.
My stomach churns.
He’s never this BRAZEN
when we’re not home alone.
‘But Mother . . .’
I manage to squeak out
as I twist my body and move to the side.
Out of his gaze.
Out of his personal space.
I start to take a breath
but he GRABS me.
He WRAPS his fingers
around my forearm
and PULLS me close.
So close his lips
are in my hair.
He laughs.
‘Don’t worry, Liv,
I’ve got enough energy left over
for you.’
His fingers TIGHTEN
and then
it’s happening.
His MOUTH on mine,
his free HAND
travelling
from my waist
upwards.
‘Relax and it’ll be OK,’
he whispers.
I LOCK myself away in my head,
in that place I’ve learned to go.
The place where I’m notin this body,
this vessel.
This isn’t happening to me.
I’m floating above the scene,
watching as he
F O R C E S
me down onto the sofa.
Hands climbing,
fingers S E A R I N G my skin.
I watch the tears l
e
a
k
i
n
gout of the corners of my eyes
as I lie there,
motionless,
knowing that there’s NOTHING
else that can be done.
I watch from above
as Mother walks in to the room
in her dressing gown,
see her mouth drop
as she shouts,
‘What is going on in here?!’
65. OLIVIA
I used to imagine the way this would happen.
Used to.
Before the last bit of HOPE got sucked out of me.
I used to think Mother would CHARGE in
and drag him off me.
But instead . . .
she stands there,
IMMOBILE.
SILENT.
He jumps up and wipes his mouth.
I stay lying on the sofa,
FROZEN.
My stomach
My bra
My heart
on display.
‘Baby, it’s not what it looks like.’
He runs a hand through his hair.
‘She threw herself at me!’
I stand up on uncertain legs,
waiting for Mother to jump in,
for her to declare
that she knows I would
NEVER
do such a thing.
The way she declares
in the dreams I used to have.
But she doesn’t.
She just stares.
I look into her eyes
and she’s UNSURE.
There’s a part of her,
(I don’t know how big a part)
that BELIEVES him.
TRUSTS him
more than me,
her own daughter.
‘That’s not true,’
I manage to say.
In my dreams
I don’t say anything,
but then I don’t need to.
I speak up again.
‘He’s lying.’
My voice cracks
but it’s AUDIBLE
and that’s so much MORE than I expected from myself.
‘Have you seen this?’
He shoves his phone in Mother’s face.
‘She sent this to me.’
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
I want to reach out, snatch the phone and
THROW it on the ground.
DIG my heel in so that the screen SMASHES
so that the photo
that photo
is no longer visible
to anyone.
But I’m frozen again.
I can only watch helplessly as Mother’s eyes WIDEN,
flicking from the screen to me.
‘Olivia?’
There’s a crack in her voice
and I feed off that hesitation
enough to pipe up,
‘No! I didn’t. I wouldn’t.’
‘You’re the strongest person I know,’
Mehreen once said.
I can do this.
It’s time.
‘He’s lying,’
I repeat.
‘It’s . . . It was him. He
FORCED
himself on me . . .
And this isn’t . . .
the first time.’
I went through a phase of reading about
victims
confessing their abuse,
and so many of them spoke about
the RELIEF that comes
from telling someone,
from confronting their abuser.
But as the words leave my lips
there is no relief,
perhaps due to
Mother’s unchanged expression.
I wait
and wait
and wait
for her to say something.
He’s blabbering away,
but I tune him out.
This moment is between me and Mother.
But before she can open her mouth,
there’s a RING at the front door.
We all turn our heads to the noise
but nobody moves.
The sound of the doorbell echoes around the house.
BEEPBEEPBEEP
Outside, a car horn blares.
‘OLIVIA! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR.’
There’s only one person in the world that could be,
and her voice screams URGENCY.
I reluctantly leave the room,
open the front door to find . . .
Cara’s mother?
She stands there sheepishly, opening and closing her mouth.
Her car is parked on the driveway right in front of the house.
Cara sticks her head out of the passenger window and shouts,
About fucking time!’
I barely open my mouth before she launches into a ga r ble d series of sentences
‘Ohmygod why haven’t you been checking your phone?
Mehreen’s about to off herself. We need to go, NOW. I
realised today’s the date we were set. I’m thinking she’s at
the beach, cause that would make sense, right? Tell me all
this makes sense and it’s not just another trick by that fucking
website. I mean, either way we have to go, right?
NOW NOW NOW. There’s no way we can’t go. The email was like
ten minutes ago, fuck knows what’s happened since then. I’ve
already called an ambulance, but your house was on the way
and . . . I just . . . I need you. Please?’
I want to ask a barrage of questions
but there’s PANIC written all over Cara’s face,
and a tenderness I’ve not heard before.
I need you.
The words
‘ten minutes ago’
echo
echo
echo in my head.
Mehreen. Sweet, sweet Mehreen.
I remember her phone call earlier,
how TERRIFIED she sounded,
and how I dismissed her completely.
‘What is going on out here?’
Mother has stepped into the hallway
and is gawping
at Cara,
whose head is sticking out of the window
and Cara’s mother,
who stands there
speechless.
Cara,
who is
NOTHING
like the friends Mother would deem appropriate for me.
NOTHING
like the friends I’ve had my whole life.
Cara’s mother begins to explain the situation,
but her voice fades in my ear
when
he appears behind Mother.
Their bodies too close.
I know that if I leave now,
if I go with Cara,
he’ll work his magic,
fill her mind with his LIES.
But if I stay . . .
What will happen to Mehreen?
66. OLIVIA
It’s so very bizarre to think that
if things had turned out differently,
I would be at this very spot
on this very day
ready to end things
for myself,
rather than to save my friend.
Mehreen.
Poor Mehreen.
I can’t imagine how desperate
helpless
lost
she must have felt
in those last moments.
NO.
Not last moments.
I have to believe she’s OK
that we will get to her in time.
‘Where the fuck is the ambulance?’
That’s Cara of course.
She looks out of the windows
all around.
As we drive down the slipway,
it feels like we’re about to
sub
m
e
r
g
e
ourselves into the water too.
Mrs Saunders stops about a hundred yards from the water
and I BURST out of the car.
There’s not a single soul on the beach.
No lifeguards.
No dog walkers.
No teenagers skipping stones.
Not a single person that would have seen her,
would have tried to stop her,
would have tried to save her.
I turn to look for Cara,
so we can strategise what to do,
but she’s being helped into her chair by her mother
and I can’t wait.
We can’t afford to wait.
I scan the horizon,
the surprisingly tame water,
looking for any sign of DISRUPTION,
hoping to see Mehreen just swimming along
back to the beach.
But instead there’s nothing but
calmness.
As if the sea,
the world,
the universe,
life itself,
is mocking me.
As if MementoMori is mocking us.
‘Did you really think you could beat me?’
They did it.
They finally got her to give up . . .
But wait
overthere
a way outinto the sea
to my right
a FLASH of red,
a scarf floating
lazily
TAUNTING.
Calling.
Instinct kicks in.
The swimming lessons Mother forced me to take.
The lifeguard training I did last year.
I run
run run run run run run.
Inwardly begging
Please. Please. Please.
The water is ICE.
The shock of it
leaves me gasping.
I force myself through it,
using the advice drilled into my head:
Keep moving.
Don’t stop.
Keep the end goal in sight.
Mehreen.
Mehreen.
Mehreen.
I make it to the scarf,
take a huge breath
and
D
I
V
E
67. CARA
When you tell someone it’s an emergency, you expect them to drop everything and come running. It’s been ages since I called the ambulance, told them that someone was dying right that fucking minute. The woman was a complete idiot who didn’t seem to understand the word emergency, despite working for the fucking EMERGENCY SERVICES.
The water’s still, has been for fucking ever. It’s at times like this that being in a wheelchair is the worst. I want to jump in and go after them both so fucking badly, but I’m trapped on the slipway. I keep expecting Olivia to burst out of the water like a dolphin, with Mehreen over her shoulder or something, but it’s been too long, right? Far too fucking long for either of them to survive under that . . .
What if Mehreen wasn’t even here to begin with? All this is just a hunch after all. What if she’s just sitting at home, watching TV, having changed her mind again, or what if she’s found another method to do it or just . . . GAH, THERE’S TOO MANY WHAT IFS, it’s driving me fucking crazy.
Mum’s up at the top of the slipway, where it meets the road. She’s walking around in circles as if that’s how you make ambulances come faster. Gotta give her props though – she barely asked any questions on the way. But Mum’s good in a crisis; she’s the one who suggested calling the ambulance right away, rather than waiting to see if Mehreen was really here. I’m sure one day she’ll get the whole truth out of me, like how the three of us really met, but right now . . . right now Olivia needs to fucking come out of that water already.
I finally hear a siren. Thank fucking fuck. It’s like that moment in films where the woman falls to her knees, throwing her hands up in the air to thank Jesus or whatever. But of course that’s not gonna happen here – I don’t believe there’s anyone looking over us. Well, I don’t usually. Right now I’ll believe in anyone and anything that’ll keep Mehreen and Olivia safe. The ambulance drives down the slipway, right to where I’m waiting. A paramedic steps out, looking as relaxed as someone would if they were just rolling out of bed on a Sunday afternoon. I want to punch him in the gob so fucking bad. Another one comes out of the other door and Mum’s already yapping away, catching her up on everything we know. God bless Mum.
The paramedics look over to the sea and the one nearest to me drops his shit on the ground, rushing towards the water. FUCKING FINALLY. I turn and spot Olivia’s head and I feel my chest squeeze. She’s thrashing about a bit and I’m worried she’s going under again, but soon she rights herself and manages to float. I squint, peering to see if she’s alone, and gasp when I see she’s got Mehreen’s arms over her shoulders. Paramedic Guy wades into the water and helps Olivia out. He bends over and his arse is in the way of me seeing what’s happening. I move to the side a bit as he starts dragging, literally dragging, Mehreen by her wrists onto the sand. Olivia walks out of the sea, gasping for breath. I want to go over and hug her, cry with her, wrap her up and never let her go, but of course my stupid chair won’t go on the sand.
Paramedic Guy shouts over to Paramedic Girl, who kneels down next to Mehreen with her equipment. Mum goes over too. The guy is once again blocking my view of Mehreen’s face, but I’m actually glad for it. I don’t want my last image of her to be of her face all bloated and blue. I curse myself for even thinking that. She’s going to be OK, she is. Of course she is. Things like this don’t happen to nice people like Mehreen. She has to survive this, she just fucking has to.
Paramedic Guy starts pumping on her chest, like they do in films, and I watch Olivia, who’s staring at Mehreen. Judging by her reaction, it’s not looking good. I want to go over to Mum, just let her cuddle me and make all this go away. I don’t want to be living this scene, this moment.
Paramedic Guy moves a bit and I can see the top of Mehreen’s head, her hair spread across the sand. I move myself further back so I can’t see her top half at all. Mum’s got her thumbnail in her mouth, muttering something under her breath. She’s standing behind Paramedic Girl, who’s hooking Mehreen up to some small machine.
