Book Three - Fighting For You

Chapter 21

Hi guys! First off, I wish to advise this chapter contains disturbing mature content so do not continue if you cannot handle it.

Secondly, I wish to apologise for the huge delay in this update. I'm afraid I had a massive bout of writer's block when writing this chapter. I just couldn't get it right but I've finally done it and I hope you enjoy it. It's extra long for you!

Please read the author's note at the end. Thanks. :)

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I wake to silence. Everything is dark. My mind is a fuddle and for a split second I find myself wondering if I’m back in Madrid. This is exactly how I felt after I—

Sam.

Suddenly the events of the last few days come tumbling back to mind and tears once again spring from my eyes and trickle down my cheeks. He’s gone. My husband…Sam…Lachlan’s father…is dead.

I sit up in bed in a room…the room I’ve been sleeping in for—what is it?—three days now? Or is it four? I don’t even know. But as the pain of loss consumes me once again, I’m reminded of why I’m in this state in the first place. My heart beats rapidly at the memory and I fall back on the bed, covering myself with the sheets. I can’t do this. I want to sleep and never wake up again.

What about Lachlan?

My heart clenches as I think of my son. But then an image of him appears in my head. When I see how much he looks like Sam, my heart breaks all over again and I push all thoughts of him out of my mind.

Pushing the covers off me, I sit up in bed but place my head in my hands.

“I can’t do this,” I say to myself, feeling like I’m totally losing my mind. “I just can’t.”

Desperate to keep my mind off things, I lean over and turn the bedside lamp on. I blink a couple of times to adjust my eyes to the light then look around the room. It’s surprisingly tidy considering I’ve been cooped up for so long. Then again in that time I haven’t left my bed apart from going to the bathroom and I haven’t eaten a thing.

My eyes land on a photo on Sam’s bedside cupboard…of us. My throat constricts and I burst into tears yet again. I leap across the bed and knock the photo to the floor. It lands with a crash. I can’t bear to see any—

I suddenly look around the room and that’s when I take notice for the first time all the pictures I have on the wall. There are too many. I can’t look at him because every time I do the pain eats away at me. I just want it to go away.

Jumping out of bed, I remove all the photos off the walls and hide them away under the bed. Then, like a crazed woman, I go through the entire house doing the same thing. When there are no photos at all I make my way to the kitchen and open the cutlery drawer. I find the sharpest knife I can and look at the blade, the kitchen light glinting off it.

I’ve never wanted to take my own life before. I confess I’ve been guilty of judging those who have. I’ve never understood how life could get that bad. But now…now I fully understand and I take back every judgemental thought I’ve ever had. Now I’m the one experiencing this crushing pain. It’s so bad I can’t breathe…I can’t function…I can’t do a damn thing. All I can do is mourn and cry and—dare I say it?—wish my life never happened.

The worst part is, I’ve always been a strong person. I’ve always been able to fight my own battles and now that I can’t…it’s like someone has stripped me of everything. Not being able to do something is like having my right arm ripped off. I just can’t put up with it. My life must end. Everyone would be better off without me. Nancy hates me anyway. Jason is busy trying to keep her from going crazy so he wouldn’t even notice I’m gone. As for Mum and Dad, well they’ll miss me I suppose but they can look after my son for me.