Saving Amy (3 page)

The icy air whipped my face and instantly erased the last traces of nausea from my delicate stomach. Desperate to escape, I started to sprint. I didn’t know where I was running to but my speed increased until the houses alongside me merged into a blur. My legs began to slow when I noticed a flashing blue sign emerging in the distance. I focused on it, trying to read what it said as it became closer and closer.

The Blue Hog.

I’d found my destination. I was in a part of Capitol Hill I was unfamiliar with but I was pretty sure if I headed west I’d end up somewhere near my high school. Dark, run-down buildings surrounded me but I didn’t pay any more attention to them than that, walking instead into the entrance of the seedy looking Blue Hog.

Three vodka-
Coke’s
later I could feel my tense body start to relax again. If only my mind would do the same. Each sip of alcohol intensified the shame I felt and brought me one step closer to my next inevitable destination…
home.

I ordered another vodka - again without the need to produce my fake I.D. – and decided to wallow on the tatty brown corner bench a little longer. There was a long, walnut bar in front of me – concealed by a layer of bikers and whores who looked as miserable as I felt.

Engrossed in ‘people
watching’
my eyes were drawn to a suspicious looking man. He wasn’t much older than me at a guess and he was loitering outside the men’s-room by the entrance. His foot was tapping impatiently against the dirty floor, only pausing every few seconds while he glanced at his watch. Seconds later he was joined by another equally suspicious man and my eyes shifted focus to their unsuccessful slight-of-hand attempt.

There was an exchange of some sort and then I noticed the tip of a small transparent pouch sticking out from Suspicious Man Number Two’s pocket. I recognised it instantly. It was the same as the bag Chemistry Boy had earlier. Suddenly my heart was quickening and I longed to be back in that thoughtless paradise I was in just a few hours ago.

I did it. I plucked up the courage to approach Suspicious Man Number One with the line ‘you got any more?’ and hoping he wouldn’t guess I had no idea what I was doing or what I was asking for. I was now the owner of a tiny pouch of ‘blow’, which I was almost
certain
was slang for cocaine. Even saying it my head sounded stupid. Reckless. Ridiculous. Shameful.

Exciting.

Soon enough I was back there again and it felt fantastic. I danced my way out of the ladies room and high-fived a biker who winked at me as I passed him. I had too much energy to sit back down so I quickstepped my way outside to light a cigarette from my purse. I giggled like a naughty child when I noticed my cell resting on my packet of smokes and remembered I hadn’t told Julie where I was going. I pressed ‘Call’ instinctively without checking for missed calls or texts.

“Amy! Where the hell are you?” she roared down the line.

“Julie-e-e-e-e! What’s up, girlfriend?” I teased playfully. Turned out Julie wasn’t in the mood for playing.

“Amy, seriously…
I’ve been calling you all freakin’ night.
Everyone’s
talking about you and Ed Stevens.”

So that’s his name?
For a fleeting moment the shame returned but it was soon quashed by another immature giggle.

“What happened between you? Are you okay?”

“He fucked me. I threw up on him. I’m over it,” I blurted, a little too flippantly for her liking.

“You’re wasted!”

No flies on her.

“Where are you? Are you alone? I’ll come and meet you,” she rushed out in a fluster. No way in hell could I be assed with Julie fussing over me. I needed to sober up. Fast.

“Sorry, Jules. I’m fine I swear. I’m going home now. I’ll catch you tomorrow,” I replied, trying desperately to sound sober and praying I sounded convincing.

“Promise?”

“Promise. Just had too much to drink that’s all. I’ve made an ass of myself and now I’m going home to sleep it off. I’ll call you in the morning.”

I hung up the call before I heard a reply. My mood was slipping already. The nausea was returning with a vengeance and I felt a slight twinge deep in the back of my head, threatening to explode at any moment.

I headed west with the hope of finding my school and my bearings. Nothing looked familiar. There was a cluster of tall, swanky looking buildings cordoned off with immense steel gates ahead of me – apartments I assumed. I concentrated on the myriad of yellow lights escaping through the mass of windows and dragged myself forwards, hoping to find someone with a sense of direction.

Suddenly I felt worse. I paused to lean against an ostentatious looking car, dragging in deep breaths of the cold, cleansing air and praying it would ease the stomach-twisting queasiness. Beads of sweat started to drip relentlessly down the back of my neck, despite the icy wind. I wiped it away with flattened fingers and noticed that my hands were shaking. My legs felt weak. The sidewalk began to move. The swanky buildings rippled in the wind.

The ground was coming towards my face…

**********

I woke up in a bed. Double if not king-sized, covered by cream satin sheets and surrounded by cream feather pillows. As I sat up the satin glided against my bare skin and I realised I was only wearing my bra and panties. More shame flooded my veins as I tried in vain to remember whose bed I was in. My mind was blank. I vaguely remembered making a drunken phone-call to Julie but after that all I could see was darkness. I didn’t know where I was,
who
I’d been with (most likely
slept
with) or why I could feel a band aid on the back of my head.

A light tap on the bedroom door startled me and I pulled the satin sheets up beneath my chin.

“Good morning. How’s the head?” a tall man – late twenties at a guess - dressed only in a pair of jeans, asked me in a deliciously deep voice.

Fuck me he was beautiful - in a Michael C. Hall on steroids kind of way. His dark auburn, naturally copper highlighted hair was messy yet perfect – ruffled with no obvious direction but in a precisely-styled-with-fancy-hair-product-for-the-just-got-out-of-bed-look way. He had the most glorious set of abs I’d ever seen in my life and that perfect ‘V’ coming off his sculpted hips that you only ever see on underwear models.

He looked far too respectable to bring a drunken slut that stank of vomit home to bed with him…

“Um…” was all I could muster, too embarrassed to admit that I didn’t know who he was or why I was lying in his bed.

“Your ribs have taken a fair thump too. Do you remember what happened last night?”

“Of course I do,” I lied curtly. He raised an unconvinced eyebrow at me. “A little,” I claimed. “No,” I finally admitted, dropping my head.

I felt the mattress dip beside me and I looked up to find the eye-wateringly hot man sitting there.

“I found you on the sidewalk outside. From the knock to your head I think you fainted. You weren’t making much sense when I brought you inside.”

Why the fuck didn’t he just call an ambulance like normal people would? Oh my god he’s a freakin’ weirdo. I need to get out of here…

“I had a little to much to drink last night,” I mumbled, ashamed.

“Is that all?” he quizzed dubiously.

“Yes!” I protested.
Who the hell does he think he is?
“Did we…” I nodded my head towards the space next to me on the bed and hoped I didn’t need to actually say the words.

“No. We didn’t. Not only am I not that kind of man, you were in no fit state and you’re far too young.”

How would you know how old I am?

Suddenly I started to wonder if he’d been snooping through my purse and then convinced myself he had and was basing his mini interrogation on the empty polythene pouch inside. What a jackass.

“Did you do this to yourself?” I followed his gaze and found it resting on my thigh. Immediately I yanked the sheet over it and wondered why my dressing was missing.

“I fell.” Shrugging, I watched his eyebrow shoot up again. He was starting to annoy me. “What’s it to you anyway?” I snapped. “Where are my clothes?”

He stood effortlessly from the bed and as he walked towards a wicker chair in the corner of the room my eyes refused to shift focus from the delectably defined muscles hugging his hips just above the waistband of his black, low-hung jeans. Forcing my eyes away I noticed my clothes (clean and pressed by the look of them) folded neatly on the back of the chair, causing my frustration to raise a notch.

“I can clean my own clothes,” I barked ungratefully.

“They were covered in vomit.”

Oh…

“I was just trying to help,” he said as he draped my clothes over his forearm and moved towards me. I ignored him because I was mad… and embarrassed… and more than a tiny bit attracted to him. Sighing, he laid my clothes next to me on the bed and left without another word. The second I heard the door close behind him I threw my head into my hands and sobbed violently into my palms.

What is happening to me?

It took me a good half an hour to calm myself down before I attempted to find the bathroom. After peering into three ridiculously spacious rooms I eventually found it. I headed straight towards the basin to splash my face and spray myself with some deodorant I found in his cabinet. I would shower at home. I was ready,
desperate,
to leave.

I successfully managed to navigate my way back to the overly long hallway and found my clutch purse resting neatly between two empty, white ceramic bowls on a half-moon glass table by the entrance. I planned on grabbing it and running for the hills but as I reached for it…
he
appeared from a room across the hall.

“My name is Richard by the way…” he stated, now dressed in a cream turtleneck, allowing my brain to focus more clearly. I nodded and attempted to smile but I couldn’t seem to find the right muscles in my face.

Turning away from him, I pulled on the door handle. Thankfully, it was unlocked and I stepped out into a long, white and stainless steel filled corridor. There was tension on the door as I attempted to close it and I realised it was because he was holding it open.

“Look after yourself, Miss Hope,” he called after me.

I knew it!
He
must
have rifled through my things.
Who the fuck does he think he is?
I was too angry to acknowledge him – with him
and
myself – so I kept on walking towards the elevator at the far end, grateful for the fact I’d never have to see him again.

Two months later…

T
he sound of the bedroom door slamming stirred me. I noted the time on my alarm clock – 6:30 AM. Next came the sound of the power shower and I knew it was my dad getting ready for work. Seizing my opportunity, I swung my legs out of bed and stepped into my pink bunny slippers before tiptoeing down the stairs and into the kitchen. I peered around the doorjamb first, making sure there was no sign of life, and then moved swiftly towards the kitchen counter in between the kettle and the toaster. His wallet was in its usual spot, beside an empty coffee mug and his car keys.

One more fleeting glance over my shoulder and I was in, out and back in my bedroom within one minute. Fifty dollars should see me through a couple of days and I smiled smugly as I counted it under my quilt. He’d never notice a mere fifty dollars missing from the hundreds he usually had stuffed in there. God knew what he did with it all. I didn’t really care.

His heavy feet made the stairs creak on his way down and I knew the slam of the front door would follow shortly which would mean I could get up for the day. While I waited for the slam of the door I rifled through my closet for something to wear. A bleep from my cell disturbed me and I sighed heavily,
guiltily,
knowing it was probably another text from Julie. I was right.

Julie: Call me. PLEASE. I’m worried about U, J. xxx

I threw the phone down on the bed and tore at my hair as I choked back the tears. Julie was my best friend – my
only
friend – and I hadn’t spoken to her in almost three weeks or seen her in just over nine. In fact, the last time I saw her was the night of Romy’s party. I wanted to see her. I
needed
to see her. But I couldn’t. I just couldn’t let her see how fucked-up I was right now.

I was a mess. Leon – the guy from The Blue Hog – was programmed into my speed-dial, I’d lost a shit load of weight and my legs were shredded to the point where I looked like I’d been in an explosion in a glass factory. Mrs Clarke took great pleasure I’m sure in questioning my dad about my lack of attendance at school, which resulted in three fresh bruises and a cracked rib – or a fall down the stairs to the outside world – and I spent my days either getting high or coming down and wishing I had the balls to slice into the flesh over my wrist rather than my legs.

In a moment of madness I decided to text Julie. After all I didn’t necessarily have to see her to put her mind at ease.

Me: I’m so sorry, J. I’m fine I promise. Things at home r just a little rough right now. I miss u. xxx

I found myself crying as I hit send. I really did miss her. Life had always seemed that little bit more…
normal
when we were together. But I would only bring her down now. I was better off alone, with nobody able to hurt me but myself. I was counting down the days until my eighteenth birthday – two months, six days – and then I was out of here. Leon reckoned he could help me get set up somewhere. I didn’t know how and I didn’t know where but I didn’t care. Anything had to be better than living here between my
mother
’s drunken wails and my father’s fists.