Zam the Hybrid

23. The Heist

Zam woke up with his head in the toilet. It wasn't such a rare occurrence these days as he often rolled out of bed in the middle of the night with an urgent need to throw up, forcing him to crawl to his en-suite and the spend the rest of the night clutching the toilet seat, bracing himself for vomit. Sometimes he could stop it from coming, sometimes he couldn't, the only certainty was that he wouldn't return to his bed. This morning was one of those occasions where he had actually fallen asleep whilst still kneeling at the lavatory, putting him in a rather disgusting position.

He carefully raised his head out of the loo, making sure not to make contact with the sides or the rim of the seat. He pulled himself to his feet, using the toilet seat as leverage. With his head still pounding from his excessive drinking last night, Zam managed to align himself with the sink and mirror. He looked awful. He had dark bags under his eyes, he was drenched in cold sweat and his hair was an absolute mess. Running the taps, he splashed his face with water and then ran his fingers through his messy mop, giving it a good ruffle.

Zam staggered out of the bathroom and made his way into the kitchen where he was treated to a peculiar sight. Tristan was lying face down in a puddle of what Zam really hoped was beer. The whole kitchen was a complete mess. Food and empty bottles of alcohol littered the surfaces, the table and the floor, everything seemed to be permanently stained with a new colour and the kitchen sink contained some rather vile smelling puke. This was the state of his flat now. Without Taylor to clean up after him, his and Tristan's drinking sessions left destruction in their wake and although Zam didn't exactly enjoy it, it was what he needed. Drinking stopped him from thinking.

He poured himself a glass of water, desperate to quench his thirst, taking a sip of the ice-cold water and almost immediately, he started to feel better. He wandered over to the living room area where he slumped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. It was just some boring, unimportant news programme but it didn't matter. It was just background noise to try and stop him thinking too much whilst he recovered from his hangover.

Unfortunately, none of it actually helped. He just sat there thinking about Taylor. How long had it been since she left him? He genuinely didn't know. Maybe a week? Maybe a month? He'd completely lost track of time since they'd broken up. He didn't even know what day of the week it was. He wondered what she was doing now. Perhaps she was regretting her decisions or maybe she was busy plotting his murder. Had she started to go to the doctors about her pregnancy?

"Urgh..." he groaned like he did whenever this realisation hit him. "I'm going to be a father..." That was the truth of the matter and he had no control over it. In less than a year, he'd be a father and Taylor would be a mother. Taylor would be a single mother, fending for herself and her baby and Zam would be nowhere to be found. She deserved better. She deserved better than him.

"You're damn right I deserved better." Zam spun around far too quickly, spilling his water over himself and causing a painful pang of dizziness. He couldn't locate the sound of the voice. Tristan was still unconscious and there was nobody else in the room. Had he really just heard her voice?

"Taylor?" he called out, feeling stupid about talking into thin air.

"I'm right here you stupid idiot." He turned his head slowly and sure enough there she was, looking as pretty as ever, sitting right next to him. She looked cross.

"You're back?"

"You really think I'd come back after all the shit you said?"

"Well... no, not really," he admitted. "So, you're not back? But I can see you!"

"Of course I'm not back!" she laughed. "I'm just a figment of your imagination created by your subconscious to fill the void in your heart of me leaving."