Saving Lotte Sullivan | Collingwood/Carlton

131: Inside Her Mind

A/N: To the other Carlton and Collingwood supporters out there - our seasons are now over. I am in full devastation mode after Carlton's shit elimination final (my 7 year old has told me Lions are the true 'eliminairs' - elimination and premiers together - so I will be going for Geelong and Hawthorn for the remainder of the finals, really channeling my inner chablemisspell here 😂

Viewer discretion is advised regarding certain scenes and topics mentioned in this chapter.

...

Lotte Calum Sullivan ~

Layla and Oscar.

Pain. Unbelievably, excruciating, unbearable pain.

Layla and Oscar.

The feeling of my right lung slowly dying, my body shutting down and severe anaemia. The unforgiving pain in my chest, straight through to my back. The same pain in my upper abdomen, just under and between my breasts, both clots threatening to kill me at any given moment.

Layla and Oscar.

Unrelentless, almost cramping like pain on my left hand side, ripping through my abdomen where my spleen was removed, while I was wide awake and watching, left with so much severe medical trauma. Like August last year hadn't been enough.

But Layla and Oscar.

This is bad. This was bad. This has been bad. Sometimes it's hard to fathom just exactly how hard it is. Most of the time, my brain isn't here and neither am I. The pain from the surgery, the pain of Jordan Boyd uncharacteristically complaining about something every two minutes. Sam De Koning's unwavering silence, but caring gaze. His son, when he starts crying, reminding me of my two at home, my two who haven't seen me in weeks.

I haven't seen my fiancee. I have no idea why he hasn't visited. Every time I try to ask my friends, Jordan just tries to distract me by bringing something else up, Sam gives me a sad, knowing smile and his older brother - Tom, my work colleague, gets angry. So I suspect something must have happened with Trent and that's why they're not telling me anything.

My sister visited me, a few nights ago. A few days ago, too. Her blood circulating around my veins and body, keeping me alive. She came in and spoke to me for hours. My sister. My sister. The bitch who's done nothing but bully, taunt and isolate me for the past, shit, nearly eight years. She was a completely different person, if not looking a little uncomfortable and very nervous. It's like I forget, when you remove our parents and her kids from the situation, she'll start to act a little more human.

My firstborn died on the day he was born, in 2016. My sister and I never got along from that moment on - fighting constantly, threatening to kill each other. Actually, we weren't good since the moment my brother died. But our parents had always constantly pit us against each other; all three of us were born with a purpose. Rochelle the favourite, can do no wrong golden child. Calum, the caring and comedic victim who never got enough appreciation, and myself: the scapegoat child, born to be hated.

Rochelle told me that she and her husband, Patrick Irizarry, had married back in 2022 - after lockdown, at a lovely ranch property in Northern Victoria - Sam quickly scribbling down the name on his hand, just in case. Rochelle's two daughters, Michaela and August, bridesmaid and flower girl. She expressed she wanted to invite me, but our mother Keeley would not let her. History repeats herself because when my wedding happens, July this year, if I invite Rochelle, Keeley won't be allowed to the venue. I just can't go back to my destroyed childhood. It's sad - neither of the twins will ever know their biological grandparents past a few weeks with their paternal grandmother, who ended up leaving the family completely. Trevor, my father, who will never go near my children nor lay a finger on them. My mother, who's so snakey and narcissistic, always lying in wait to hurt me. And lastly, Trent's father Daniel, who died way before the thought of having kids had ever entered Trent's brain - when he was just 9 years old and found his father dead, in the bathroom, covered in blood - his own doing, desperate to end the pain his workplace Collingwood had put him through. His only child would end up going through the same thing about 13, 14 years later, and would thankfully survive and get out of there.