A year to remember

18. Jared

I struggled to open my eyes. 

My eyelids were heavy. 

Too heavy. 

The room was bright. 

Too bright. 

It would be easier to just keep them shut. 

I could hear someone talking near me, but it was too much effort to understand their muffled voice. There was another sound too. What was that? It was too hard to make out. 

I slipped back into the easy darkness.

Something- or someone- was poking me. It was uncomfortable. They squeezed my shoulder. I groaned. Why couldn't they leave me alone? I was trying to sleep. Or was I?

"Can you open your eyes?"

I tried. It was easier this time, but the room was still too bright. It was so white that the glare hurt my head.

Blurred images came into focus. 

A soft, steady beep slowly became louder. 

A  face appeared above me; brown hair spattered with grey, half a stubbled, unkept beard, thick glasses, dark eyes. He started pointing fingers in front of my face.  

"Follow my finger," he said.

Confused, I tried to sit up, but something held me down.

"Follow my finger," the voice said again, louder and clearer.

I blinked against the bright light of the room, but did as I was told and followed the stupid finger held in front of my face.

"Do you know where you are?" The voice asked.

Who was this person? I looked past him, trying to piece together where I was and what had happened. But I didn't know this place. I shook my head.

"Can you state your name and the date?"

I didn't know. My head hurt. My throat hurt. My stomach hurt. My limbs hurt. Everywhere hurt. 

Then I saw her; her makeup smudged from crying, she was wearing a big white blanket wrapped over her shoulders. More bloody white. Why was everything so white and bright? My head was killing me. She rushed over and took my hand.

"Oh thank God," she breathed, her voice was shaky and sounded both terrified and relieved. 

But I knew her, which meant I knew myself.

"Jared Lennox," I croaked, never taking my eyes off her. My throat burned. My stomach felt empty and nauseous.

"Good, Jared." The voice said. "Do you remember what happened?"

I looked down at Scarlett's hand in mine. There was a drip coming out of my hand, and I was laying in a white bed. I glanced around the room one more time, taking in my surroundings, the soft, rhythmic beep of the monitors. I realised the man talking to me was a doctor. I was clearly in a hospital. But I didn't know what I was here for. Was I sick? I certainly felt unwell. I shook my head slowly.

Three more people were outside the room, through the glass sliding doors, engaged in conversation. One was a police officer, facing me, taking notes as he listened intently to what the other two people were saying. The other two people were standing together, their backs to me. The man was tall with salt and pepper hair, one hand buried deep in his pocket, the other wrapped around the shorter, blonde woman's shoulders. Her arms were wrapped around her small frame, hugging herself tightly for comfort. I didn't have to see their faces to know who those two people were. I would know them anywhere.

Just then, she turned around and her concerned green eyes met mine. Although I couldn't hear what she was saying, I could see her mouth turn into a surprised 'oh' and I watched as her anxious face relaxed with relief. The man turned around too, his face relaxing with relief as well. Without turning back to the police officer, they both rushed into my room. 

They were at my side in a second. Chris squeezed my shoulder. Jane took my hand in hers, then took my face in her hands and kissed me on the forehead. I caught a waft of her scent; her freshly ironed linen and gentle floral perfume made me think of home. Well, not my home, but theirs. 

"Oh honey," Jane said softly. "We are so glad you're awake. We were so worried about you."

My eyes stung with tears. Jane and Chris weren't my parents, but Scarlett's. And yet here they were, by my hospital bed and my parents were no where to be seen. Scarlett's parents were already better parents to me than my own.

The police officer entered the room.

"Jared, I'm Constable Wilkins. I need to take your statement, when you're ready, of course."

I was confused. I still couldn't remember what had happened.

"My statement?" I croaked, confused. 

"What's the last thing you remember, Jared?" The doctor asked. 

I looked to Scarlett, the makeup smeared across her face. She had been crying. The white blanket had fallen from her shoulder and I noticed the strap of her red leather costume peeking out. I had driven her to a party. A Halloween party. She had looked incredible. The sexiest David Bowie anyone had ever seen.

"I dropped Scarlett off at a party."

Her face looked stricken, which meant there was more to it than that.

"What happened?" I murmured softly, more to myself than to anyone else. I racked my brain to remember what had happened next. 

"You ingested GHB," the doctor informed me. "The date rape drug."

My eyes flicked to the doctor. 

"What?"I asked, shocked. I tried to sit up, but my head spun. The doctor gently pushed me back down.

I had gone in to the party?

Yes, that's right. I remembered going in. I had watched as her drunken boyfriend had made a show of kissing her in front of me. Of groping her. Of talking to her like she was some object, not Scarlett Livingstone. It made her uncomfortable, but he hadn't cared. He was like a dog pissing on a tree, marking his territory; threatened and menacing.

"The drug made you lose consciousness, which is when Scarlett found you." The doctor continued. "It caused your heart to go into a bradyarrhythmia, meaning it was slow and irregular. We were able to pump your stomach and correct the effects of the drug on your system. If Scarlett hadn't called an ambulance and had you admitted to hospital.. well, the consequences could have been fateful."

Scarlett made a choking noise and I turned back to her, trying to process everything. I watched as fresh tears fell from her eyes, and gave her hand a small squeeze. 

She had saved my life?

"It's all my fault. I'm so, so sorry, Jared."

I wasn't sure what she was apologising for. More memories flooded back to me. 

Scarlett looking uncomfortable at Tyler's show of PDA. Scarlett sending Tyler off to get us some drinks. Tyler making it very clear he didn't want me there. 

Although I was confused and unable to recall almost all of the nights events, I knew one thing for certain. She hadn't given me the one beer I had drunk; the one that had ben laced with a date rape drug.

I looked into her anguished green eyes and I felt another wave of nausea roll through my stomach. I knew that the nauseous wasn't from having it pumped.

It was because I knew that beer had been intended for her.