The Suicide Diary (7 page)

"I have something for you." He grinned as he presented me with an envelope which I took and quickly opened. Inside was a small, rectangular card and a long strip of white card. I looked at him confused but he gestured to look at them. I pulled the two items from the envelope to find it was a driving licence and a strip of photographs. More to the point, it was a driving licence with my photo on it and someone else's date of birth which made me nineteen years old. The photos I recognised from one of our dates when he had pulled me into one of those photo booths and taken a bunch of pictures with me sat in his lap. I had been horrified when he made me sit alone for one of the pictures but when he pocketed that one I was secretly pleased that he wanted to keep it. Now that I realised he had a purpose for the photo and I wasn’t sure whether to be happy he had gone to effort of getting me fake ID or disappointed that he hadn’t really wanted a photo of me to keep.

He had already given me a few photos taken at one party or another - some of groups of our (his) friends, a couple with him sat with his arm around me and some which were on my own since he had taken most of them. I had thrown away any with just me in them.

Now I was holding one half of the four tiny photos of us - the striking difference between us only dropped my confidence even lower and I wished I could cut myself out of the pictures.

Chris knew so many people and we went from dinners, to gigs, to birthday parties, and various other events and before I knew it June was over and the               heat of July was hanging over us. There was always something exciting going on in his life and for some reason he wanted me along for the ride. I don’t mean literally since although Chris had a car he never came to pick me up and seemed to have no interest in meeting my family. Since he rarely mentioned any members of his family, I tried not to take it personally. It seemed as if he had adopted his close knit group of friends as his family, and I got to know them well enough since most of my time with Chris was as part of the group’s active social calendar. I'd yet to start University and hadn't kept in touch with anyone from school, so I had nothing to invite him to but he didn't seem to mind. Although I’d taken on a part-time job which occasionally had events on evenings and weekends, I barely saw the girls from school so my social life was almost non-existent apart from the time I spent with Chris and his friends. He assumed I had a social life beyond spending time with him and I didn't bother to correct him - not exactly another lie, more omission of the facts.

My usual excuse to my Mother was I meeting a friend for a catch up and movie, while in reality I would get a taxi to meet Chris in whatever bar or party we were going to. It surprised me how easy it was to lie to her about my whereabouts. Somehow it just seemed easier to keep the truth from her. He was nineteen and spent most weekends at gigs and alcohol-fuelled parties. More often than not, Chris stayed on at the parties long after I had left in time to get home for 1am. I was a little put out the first time he kissed me goodbye on the pavement as my taxi pulled up. "Baby, it's a party, I can't help it if you have to go home early. I work hard and I deserve to let off a little steam at the weekends. Don't make a scene in front of my friends. I'll call you in the morning." he said. It was like he had his answer ready before I had even finished making a fuss and handed me a note from his wallet before closing the taxi door.

That ‘morning’call was usually late in the afternoon, if it came at all, and his voice always sounded hoarse as he spoke. The weeks passed quickly over the summer and it became my routine.

He should have been out of my league; I knew I'd never be perfect so I tried everything I could to at least make myself perfect for him. I wore his favourite colour blue and listened to his beloved bands and watched the movies he loved. My empty social calendar meant I was always available for him, but I had the sense not to make that obvious by keeping up the pretence that I had lots of other things going on too. I'd read every magazine article on 'keeping your boyfriend happy' and 'how to play it cool to keep things hot'.

He could be unpredictable, and it was sometimes difficult to know what he expected but I was determined. There were times when it wasn't enough and now and then I'd do or say something wrong.                     

The first time I knew I had messed up, we were at his friend’s party; I'd only had one drink but something didn't feel right. Everything was just a little blurry and it was as if everything was in slow motion. I tried to get up but it was as if I wasn't quite in control of my limbs. It felt as if I was floating up out of my body. Had I died? You would think that was the kind of thing you would be sure of. There wasn't a bright light beckoning me, but then I panicked and tried to search for the sensation of heat or any flame-tipped fingers that might be calling me instead. My heart rate slowly returned to a steadier pace when I found neither. In fact the party still seemed to be going on around me.

I had to find Chris, he had been here a while ago and he had brought me the drink and told me I was beautiful. I didn't believe him, yet it was so incredible to me to hear him say it. From where I was sitting, I couldn't see him anywhere. Leaning over my glass, I peered inside but the black liquid looked and smelled like vodka and coke should.

Nina hated vodka and coke! When she rarely had a drink it was usually a small glass of wine or something with lemonade. ‘How can you date someone and not know this?’ thought Alex.

I didn't like coke with vodka; it was too sweet a combination. It should have bothered me that I’d mentioned this to Chris this many times before, and yet I had smiled a thank you when he handed me the glass.

Chris came back to me then and pulled me up from the seat. "You've been ignoring me. Why didn't you come and sit with me instead of them?" His face was so close to mine, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I tried to speak but couldn't seem to get my mouth to form the words, so I stared at him hoping he would realise something wasn't right. He had to remember he had been the one who had got up to go speak to someone. And then I thought I recognised the expression on his face - it was the look he got right before he would kiss me.

I was vaguely aware of being half-carried; half pushed up two flights of stairs to a dark room and felt the weight of his body as he pushed me onto the bed. It amazed me that he wanted me at all, and I wanted to make him as happy. For some reason I couldn't seem to make my limbs function and so I lay there with my head swimming and my body limp. I felt his mouth kiss my face and neck but his stubble scratched at my skin like claws. He fumbled for the fastenings on my clothes and then my underwear and moments later he pushed into me roughly. I couldn't find my voice to cry out and so he didn't notice the pain he was causing me. I don't know how long he kept on as I slipped into unconsciousness.

Alex realized he was gripping the edges of the diary so tight he almost broke the spine. Her words were describing something that had happened years ago, and he could do absolutely nothing about but that only made him feel angrier. There was a lot more to her diary after this so he knew it couldn’t be the reason she had decided suicide was her way out, but he had a feeling this was a part of it.

I woke with a start to find myself in a taxi, and the driver trying his best to wake me without touching me. I could see the pity in his eyes as I took in the fact that I was alone in a taxi outside my house and I had no idea how I got there or if I even had enough money to pay the driver. He must have guessed what I was thinking.

"Not to worry love, your boyfriend gave me the fare from your purse. He said to say he'd call you." said the driver.

I stood in the doorway fumbling in my bag for the house key and trying to clear my head. The clock on the wall said one o'clock in the morning. Thankfully, no one was up but I still had to let my Mother know I was home. I made my way slowly to the kitchen and poured a glass of water which I tried to drink as I knew I wouldn’t be able to carry it up the stairs without spilling it everywhere. I started unsteadily up the back stairs and using the wall for support I made my way to the little W.C. since it was farther from my Mother’s room than the family bathroom. The cool dark floor looked inviting, but even in my confusion I was still aware of my family and the lies I had told. If they found out where I'd been, I would never be able to see Chris again. I pictured him dramatically cast out like Romeo and I couldn't bear the thought.

Splashing my face with cold water helped a little and I managed to steady my breathing and follow the wall again until I reached my Mother's room. I tried to sound normal as I whispered "That's me home, goodnight" to her and dragged my heavy body towards my welcoming bedroom. Unlike the other doors in our beautiful, old house, I had made sure the hinges on mine were well oiled, so I could quietly creep into my room without the noise waking one of my brothers. I didn't want either of them to hold the threat over me of telling mum I had been drinking. No matter how much they loved me, leverage was everything during sibling rivalry.

My body seemed to sink deep into the mattress and I pulled the quilt tightly up under my chin. Despite the thick cover over me I felt cold and lay shivering in the dark. Now I was wide awake, when a moment before I’d felt like I wouldn’t even make it to my bed. I hadn’t been a virgin but Chris hadn’t known that and it had been our first time together. I felt awful that I couldn’t even remember most of it and only flashes were coming back to me. He would call me in the morning. I would speak to him then. I lay staring at the ceiling for a while, and not too long after I must have fallen asleep.

It was two days before his call came. He didn't like when I called him in case he was busy with work, and so I waited as patiently as I could. I know it sounds pathetic, maybe I knew that at the time too, but you keep telling yourself it's alright until you know better.

"Baby I've missed you so much. Tell me you love me." The sound of his voice through the phone flooded my mind with memories of the last few months. I had been angry, frustrated and disappointed, and yet everything I had been ready to say to him was somehow lost in the back of my throat. He had said the one word that had me distracted. ‘Love?’ He wants to know that I love him. If
I
love
him
!

"You must know how I feel." I replied.

I couldn't quite bring myself to say the actual words straight away. A small part of me knew I was admitting defeat.

And that was how it went on between us. I was as enamoured as a snake to a charmer. Only hearing his music and swaying to the rhythm he created. When we were out, he was so attentive and sweet to me. For those short periods, I would feel like I was worth his adoration and I wanted it to last forever.

At the parties, Chris’ friends would wrap their arms around my shoulders and proclaim I was such a good influence on him. I wasn't even sure what they meant by that but I smiled as if accepting the compliment.

A few weeks later at another party I was sat talking to a group people I had come to consider friends. We were laughing about something when I felt a sudden burning sensation on my right arm. I flinched and turned to see what had caused it but saw only the damage. There was a red circular mark near my elbow and the distinct smell of burning.

I looked up quickly and noticed Chris sat next to me with a cigarette in his mouth. Of course it had been an accident, but surely he would have noticed; it hadn’t merely grazed my arm, there was a slight indentation as if it had been stubbed into it. But he was mid-conversation with the guy beside him and didn’t look my way until I nudged him and indicated the cause of the tears in my eyes. His on the other hand, became full of concern but I couldn’t help but notice the few seconds delay before he reacted. He didn’t follow when I went to run my arm under some cool water in the bathroom. The red mark burned into my flesh reminded me of the branding they would do in the old days to show something or someone belonged to a person.

He stubbed out a cigarette on her arm? Alex felt intense anger run through him and cracked his knuckles in frustration. It was so hard to read about something that had already happened and still wish he could do something to stop it. For a moment he considered not going any further, after all, he hadn’t really learnt anything that helped how he was feeling and if anything he was just getting more desperate about the whole situation when it was already too late to do anything about it.

Outside the bathroom a queue seemed to be forming and I couldn’t help overhearing a conversation.

“Did you see who’s here?” A girl's voice echoed through the wooden door.

“Yeah I know.” A second girl responded with little indication if she was pleased about it or not.

“Wonder who he’s seeing now!” The first girl seemed determined to turn this into a conversation.

There was a moments silence and she spoke again.

“Seriously Michelle, tell me you didn’t go there again. You know what Christian’s like.” she continued.
“I know. I just can’t say no to him.” the other girl replied.

I’d heard one of Chris’s friends mention a Michelle once but it was a common name. I realised then that even after all our time together, I had only assumed Chris's full name was Christopher. Standing alone in the bathroom, my arm had begun to go numb under the cold tap but I couldn't move. Suddenly a loud banging came at the door and I remembered I was holding up a queue.