Shackles & Roses

Eighteen

I wake in a daze. Illa has crept to sleep beside me, pressed close for warmth. The street lamps are on above me, and a biting wind is blowing. Teeth chattering, I curl into myself. My limbs are like blocks of ice, and I'm entirely numb.

I rub my hands together, blowing on them just as Illa stirs beside me. She doesn't look pleased, and I don't blame her. On shaky hands and feet, I crawl back into the house, having to stop just inside the doorway without any energy left to go further. Illa follows, and I shut the door to the outside world once more.

Why did she go?

I cradle a hand to my cheek, pressing up close to it.

You know why she went, Alex. For the same reason she went last time.

I stare at the carpet, eyes vacant. Mud is caked in patches between the soft threads, discolouring the material so much I wonder how I never noticed it before.

But why?

I guess everything really just hits harder up close and personal. I should start remembering to take my shoes off when I come in.

Please come back.

I should probably try to clean the mud off, but by now it's been there so long, it's probably irreversible. I think I'm starting to sense a pattern in that.

Please.

Lesson learnt; clean up the dirt and baggage you leave behind, otherwise it stains. Why do I always learn my lessons too late?

The whole of the side of my face is buried in my palm, breathing heavy. I begin to rock back and forth, shaking from head to toe.

It's not okay, it's not okay, it's not okay, she's gone... Bailey, how could you do this to me? Why couldn't you just stay? Was my love really not enough? Love is supposed to fix everything. So why couldn't mine save her?

And why hasn't hers saved me?

Because you don't deserve it.

"It's okay," I mumble to myself. "It's okay."

She wouldn't really do this. This isn't her. So she must be out there somewhere. This is all just a big game. She's out there, waiting patiently for me to come and find her, just like that day she got lost in the woods. What am I doing sitting here feeling sorry for myself? Bailey needs me.

I scramble onto unsteady feet, brain firing off into a million different directions as I decide where to check first. I pull on a pair of trainers and open the front door, slipping out past a sleeping Illa.

"I'm coming, Bailey."

An old woman walking her dog along the pavement gives me a funny look, but I just glare back. I don't care what she thinks; she doesn't understand. Nothing matters right now but finding Bailey again. She'll help me make everything better.

I wander down streets and alleyways, calling Bailey's name the whole way despite the strange looks I'm receiving. They just don't understand. But I understand. It's all a game. A game where I have to find her.

But in the end, life and death just doesn't matter

"Bailey!" I call, cupping my hands around my mouth. "Bailey, I understand now! You can stop hiding; I've come to find you. I promise I won't mess it up this time. Bailey!"

With each street I check without a response, a little bit of hope dissolves as though touched by acid. But she has to be here somewhere. She has to be.

Two hours in, and I'm starting to stumble. I cannot feel anything but the emptiness within, and my desperation to find her. I should've put on a jacket, grabbed something to eat or at least gotten some more sleep. But there's no time. For all I know, I could've already missed her. But I can't give up hope.

Because if she's not out here waiting for you, the alternative doesn't bear thinking about. Can you not cope by yourself, Alex? Do you need someone to hold your little hand as you cross the road?

Just face it, Bailey left because she never loved you. If it's any comfort, nothing you could've done would've prevented it. But it's still your fault. You know I'm right.

"I can cross the road by myself! And don't mock me. I'm not scared of you. You and me are the same."

I meant more than just the road and you know it.

Don't lie. You're quaking in your boots. But you could say we are the same... we are liars, we are failures. We are disappointments.

Look at you, you're crazy! Talking to yourself in the street, on a search mission you know is futile.

"NO!"

A few passers by turn to look at me, frowning.

Just admit you failed.

I finally start to cry, then. Loudly, obnoxiously.

My heart drops out of my chest. I take a step forward.

And then a horn blares, followed by the screech of wheels.

I feel cold metal against my skin, and sharp pain all the way up my side. The ground is rushing up to meet me.

And then dark.