Chim - Make You Stay

Chapter 3

Cheryl

I sit down on the cold wet, floor, remembering I'm still wearing Kim's pyjamas but not caring. I hold the umbrella with one hand and the vodka with the other, taking big gulps and wincing as my throat burns.

I consider having a fag, but I remember that I don't have any left, and that Kim confiscated my lighter.

Fu!k Kim. Why was she googling me? It's weird. And fu!k her looking at me like I'm an injured puppy. I'm fine. I'll smoke if I want, I'll drink if I want and I could even do drugs if I wanted to, it's none of her business. She can't force me to eat anything when I'm not hungry. She can't make me talk about.. him.

I close my eyes, leaning back on the wall and taking another long swig of vodka. I don't want to be angry at Kim, but she's started caring about me and I know I have to push her away before I hurt her. She's so kind and gorgeous, and her life seems so in control compared to mine, I can't become close with her. I'll upset her and ruin things for her, it's what I do to everyone. I'm a burden.

Without warning, tears begin sliding down my face and I give in, feeling the vodka slowly making my brain fuzzy. The rain begins to fall harder, as do my tears and the more vodka I drink, the more I seem to forget why I'm crying. As the bottle empties, my mind becomes blank and all I know is that everything in my life is completely pointless. I feel hopeless.

I hold my head in my hands as the world slowly spins, even though I am sitting down. I grip onto the vodka bottle still, needing something to hold on to. Giving in to the dizziness, I lay on the floor, dropping the umbrella as it's now useless, and I let the rain just hit me, numbing my senses. A wave of nausea hits me and I roll over, my throat burning as I throw up, the taste lingering, stale in my mouth.

And then the darkness comes, swallowing me up and making me forget, inviting me home like a long lost friend.

****

Kimberley

I wake with a start and look at the clock.

"Sh!t" I mutter.

It's 8.30pm and I've fallen asleep for about an hour, leaving Cheryl in the rain, probably drinking herself senseless.

I hurry into the kitchen, feeling sick with worry, and as I open the back door I feel so scared, my fears being confirmed in front of my eyes. Cheryl is laying in the rain, umbrella discarded to the side, clutching an empty vodka bottle. It also looks like she's thrown up. I hurry over to the umbrella, hold it over myself and make my way to Cheryl. She's pale, her clothes are soaked through and she looks unconscious, maybe even dead. I gently shake her, panic rising within me, but she groans and slowly opens her eyes. As soon as she sees me, she closes them, her head lolling to one side. I use one hand to shield us from the rain with the umbrella and pull her up with my other one. I pull her indoors with me, her staggering along and leaning on me for support.

I close the umbrella awkwardly, throwing it in the sink to dry and take the vodka bottle, throwing it in the bin. I pull Cheryl with me into the bathroom, still half conscious, and sit her on the toilet seat, but she can barely stay upright. I get her a pair of clean pyjamas and struggle to change her, drying her gently with a towel, then throwing the soaking wet clothes into the washing bin.

I half drag, half carry her back into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed. Pulling the duvet over her, I sigh to myself and wonder why I'm bothering. I really hope I can help Cheryl, she seems so lost and alone, but I'm not sure how much of this I can take. I'd love to be her friend and care for her, but I sometimes still find it hard to deal with my own life and losses, let alone hers, and it seems she has plenty.

I decide I'd better go to bed too. I put a bin next to Cheryl's side of the bed, in case she needs to be sick during the night, and switch off the light. Crawling into bed, I realise I'm still fully dressed, but it's too late. I fall asleep within minutes, drained from the dramatic events of the day and getting lost in a dream land.

I wake with a start, opening my eyes in a sudden panic, hearing the sound of rain hammering down noisily against the windows. The clock tells me it's 3am. Thunder loudly rumbles, and I hear a small gasp. Rolling over to face Cheryl, I see her clutching the duvet tightly in her fists, her eyes round and frightened.

'I don't like thunder' she whispers, holding tighter on to the duvet as another rumble echoes around the room. She reminds me of a child, small, scared and even slightly vulnerable.

I shuffle closer to her, putting my arms around her and holding her against me. She stays where she is, not moving any closer to me and hugging the covers, until the thunder rumbles again, this time with a flash of lightening that illuminates the room. Cheryl jumps slightly, and moves closer to me, clutching onto me for what feels like dear life.

'Make it stop Kim, please' she whispers, tears running down her face.

I had no idea she was so frightened of storms. I gently stroke her hair, assuring her that it will be over soon.

After what feels like a lifetime, the storm calms down and the only noises I can hear are the gentle pattering of rain outside and Cheryl's rhythmic breathing. She falls asleep quickly, still clutching onto me and I feel slightly guilty as I find myself hoping that morning won't come, so I don't have to let go of her.