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I nod.
“Sorry for bringing you out here. I know you’re busy.”
“It’s ok, sis. I just want to make sure you’re ok.”
“I will be when I get home. I probably didn’t eat enough, and the heat made me dizzy. I’ll be fine.” He leans forward and kisses me on the temple. My brother’s the only one who can come this near to me. We’ve been close ever since our mother left us for her new life, and our father descended into alcoholism. We have our differences, as do all siblings, but we’re never far from each other. I’ve yearned for ages to tell him everything, but I know it would break him to hear what happened to me. I can’t do that to him. I need to get through this alone.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” He leaves the room, and I exhale a long breath. I need to get myself together and hide the anxiety, or they’ll want me to talk about it. Then will come the difficult questions about why I have it. I can’t tell them. I can never say anything. This is something I must suffer in silence.
Chapter Four
“Anxiety will not destroy me.”
I shake the little bottle of pills, Citalopram 20mg. I have to take one a day, just before bed, to help me sleep. Bullshit! It’s been a week since I was released from hospital, and I had my dosage upped from 10mg, despite my insistence it was the heat and lack of food that had caused me to faint. The increase hasn’t improved my sleep in the slightest. Every time I shut my eyes, I get flashbacks of the movie theater mixed with the rape. It has become one great big horrific mess. I’m so tired, beyond tired, absolutely exhausted. I should never have gone to see that film. It was a stupid decision, guaranteeing I’ll never eat popcorn again.
I’ve barely got any food in the house, other than tinned, because I haven’t managed to go to the shops. Let’s face it, I’ve not even managed to open the front door. What I do have, though, is a bottle of wine. It was under the kitchen sink for some reason. I was probably given it as a gift and shoved it under there for safe keeping. I don’t normally drink, but I was going to change that today as I poured my second large glass. That was half the bottle gone. I know I’m not supposed to drink with my tablets, but I’m beyond caring now. I’ve gone backward not forward. This is my life, and nothing will ever change. I’d do better to swallow all the pills and wash them down with the wine. That would end my suffering. It would silence the nightmares forever, and I could finally go to sleep.
I lay back on the sofa and rest the wine glass on my stomach. I’m wearing my comfortable pjs. I’ve not bothered to get dressed for days now, so I’m probably a little smelly. What’s the point of showering when you don’t plan on leaving the house? I like being a slob, so sue me.
I bring the glass to my lips and allow the cold liquor to glide down my throat. My head already feels a bit woozy, but I’m relaxed for the first time in days. I take another long sip and place the glass down on the coffee table next to me. I think I might try and go out tomorrow. I need some food, or I’ll starve in here. Maybe I should save the rest of the wine and drink it before I go. It seems to give me confidence. I laugh out loud, and it fills the room. The four walls surrounding me aren’t used to hearing that strange sound. Silence is their norm.
Knock, knock.
I freeze at the sound coming from my front door. When I hear keys jangle in the lock, I panic and grab for the bottle of pills, hiding them under the nearest pillow. There’s only one other person who has keys to my house, my brother.
“Jaz?” he calls out when he opens the door. “You here?”
I look at the clock, and its nine pm on a Saturday night. Where else would I be?
“In the lounge,” I shout back, and he swaggers confidently into the room.
“Hey sis, I was just passing, and I thought I’d check in on you.”
He seats his bulky frame down into my favorite armchair.
“Hey,” I say and sit up with a little bit of a drunken sway.
He frowns.
“You been drinking?”
“It’s a Saturday.” I chuckle.
“And you’re drinking at home alone. How sophisticated, little sis.”
I roll my eyes and settle back down on my leather sofa. I pick up the wine glass and take another large mouthful.
“Got any beer?” he asks.
“Yuck.” I make a face when he asks for a drink, which I can’t stand. It’s too bitter and unpalatable.
“I didn’t ask you to drink it. I asked if you had any.” He laughs.
“Sorry, no. I may have some sherry I used for cooking once.”
“Do I look like I’m a hundred to you?” He groans and picks up the wine bottle and takes a long swig from it.
“Hey, don’t drink it all.” I sit bolt upright and purse my lips at him. “I plan on getting drunk tonight, and I need the whole bottle for that.”
