Playing With Fire || z.m

"Are we done?"

ELLIE

I’ve never walked so slowly in my life. With every step I cling onto something else to stop me falling over. Maybe I should have let Megan, the lady who helped me, call an ambulance. I feel like utter hell, my head is pounding, my chest feels tight, as though someone is squeezing me tightly and my stomach is churning. I just want to lie down and close my eyes.

I carry on walking, determined to make it home before I have to lie down. I want to lie down so bad, the grey, cold, dirty pavement has never looked so inviting before.

I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. No. No. I will not cry. I am stronger than this. I do not need to cry. My heart is hammering in my chest and I pick up my pace a little.

What are the chances of a taxi driving past now? I’m only 2 minutes away from my house but I’m pretty sure that with every step I take my house gets further and further away.

A burp suddenly escapes my lips and a burning sensation attacks my throat. Keep walking, Ellie, keep walking. You can make it home.

You know what would be perfect? An ambulance driving past. Maybe they could pump me full of drugs so I would fall unconscious for a few months and when I wake up all this stress has disappeared. I could start again with new people in my life. I could move away all by myself.

All by myself.

I’m pregnant, I’ll never be by myself again.

*

After taking 20 minutes to complete my 2 minute walk home, I finally make it without falling over or laying down for a nap. I open my front door and begin pulling items of clothing off so I can go and crawl into bed. By the time I make it to my bedroom I am wearing only my bra, knickers and socks. My head is pounding and I can feel my heart beat thumping above my eyes.  

My body has never felt so stiff or heavy, as I crawl into bed, a feeling of relief washes over me. What is it about being in bed, under the covers, that makes you feel so safe? I wrap the duvet around me like a cocoon and shut my eyes tight. I quite like the idea of sleeping for a hundred years like sleeping beauty. I don’t want to admit it but I’m actually pretty scared of life at the moment. I don’t want to talk to any body; I can’t really face them right now. In fact I am terrified. I am absolutely terrified.

I’ve been having an affair with a man behind his girlfriends back and now I am carrying his child.

The thought makes my stomach lurch. What have I done?

I know exactly how my mother will react. ‘Oh, Ellie. Just another thing to add to your list of fuck-ups.’ And ‘Why do you do these things, Ellie?’

Well maybe I won’t tell her every little detail.

I feel myself drifting off to sleep yet my thoughts still buzz around my head at 100 mph. What if I don’t tell anyone? What if people don’t actually have to find out?

*

When I wake up, it’s dark. My body is drenched in sweat and I am breathing short, shallow breaths as though I have just run a marathon. As I kick the duvet off of my body, I feel a warm sensation creeping up the inside of my body. I clutch at my stomach as it burns, knowing something is wrong.

Breathe, Ellie, calm down and just breathe.

Before I have a chance to move or take myself to the bathroom, I projectile vomit straight onto my bed.

“Fucks sake!” I yell out, once I’ve finished spewing my guts up. I clamber off the bed and begin to pull the sheets off. “I swear down, If you are real, God, if you are up there,” I point an angry finger up towards the ceiling and look up. “I’m sorry! I am sorry I have committed sin after sin. I am sorry that I drink, I am sorry that I smoke, I am sorry that I don’t go to church. I have sex out of wedlock, I don’t pray, I eat too much, and I am selfish. I am sorry for every sin I have ever committed, please, please, God. Forgive me!” I fall to my knees and lay my head on the floor. I want to cry but I will not let myself give in. I will not cry. I am strong, I can do this.

I get to my feet and wriggle into a pair of black tracksuit bottoms and pull a matching black hoody over my head so that I can carry on with life and stop moping over my stupid mistakes.

Get a grip, Ellie.

I wrap my bed sheets up and take them down stairs, shoving them into the washing machine so that I can have them washed and dried ready for bed time when there is a knock on the door. It must be Harry as I never contacted him after my phone broke this morning. My heart pounds as I reach for the door handle, still feeling rather nervous about life.

It’s Zayn. 

“What are you doing here?” I manage to choke out.

“I’m only here because I promised Harry I would check on you.” 

“Why do I need to be checked up on?” I ask.

“Because he had a fucking panic attack that lasted the whole day because he couldn’t get hold of you.” Oh shit.

“My phone broke, that’s all.” I sigh. “Are we done? It’s just that it’s cold outside and you’re letting all the cold air into my house.”

“I’ll come in then.” I stand open-mouthed as he pushes past me and makes himself comfy on my sofa. I don’t know why it’s taken me by surprise as this behaviour isn’t anything new.

“That wasn’t what I was getting at.” I tell him. I stand in the doorway of the lounge and watch as his eyes rake up and down my body.

“What’s happened, why are you wearing a tracksuit?”

“I’m just not feeling very well, that’s all.” I shrug.

“Look, I’m sorry about the argument…” He starts but I don’t want to discuss it.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” I interrupt. He immediately looks away.

“Harry told you.” He says quietly. I nod.

“You know, it’s just that it would have been decent to hear it from you first.” I keep my eyes focused on the floor. “I thought you respected me more than that.”

“Well it’s got nothing to do with you, really, has it?” Zayn’s harsh words slap me across the face.

“It does have quite a lot to do with me.” I state. ‘Tell him you’re pregnant, Ellie!’ My subconscious screams. ‘Tell him!’

Zayn stands up and walks closer to me, staring straight into my eyes. “My relationship with Perrie has absolutely nothing to do with you. Have we not been through this before, how often have I told you not to say her name?” He takes his phone out his pocket and holds it out in front of me. “You need to phone my best friend to let him know you are okay so he can stop with the diva fit. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s had a seizure by now.”