I can’t think. My usual deal of catastrophizing to the point of panic doesn’t go far enough this time, because there is nothing to catastrophize about: the worst has literally happened. I have lost everything.
I wander the streets, not even caring if anyone sees me. My usual tactics for remaining invisible are all but forgotten. I check Facebook on my phone; my “friends” are dropping like flies.
Shame doing the right thing doesn’t cancel out all the other shitty stuff I’ve done.
I try to call Amy. My phone rings once and then goes straight to voicemail. Looks like she’s already blocked me. I leave a message anyway.
“Amy, it’s Beth. I’m sorry for all of this, but please—listen to me. Don’t let this Anthony fool you. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I understand if we can’t be friends anymore, I can accept that, I just want to keep you safe. Nothing else.”
I’m surprised at how calm I sound. I’m beyond tears, beyond hysteria. There is nothing left for me to do but walk and pray and despair.
I have no idea what time it is when I get home. Everything’s dark, so it must be late. I can’t hear the TV, so I’m guessing Mum’s gone to bed. I know I should check, but I don’t. I don’t even raid the fridge or check the biscuit tin. I just trudge upstairs and lie fully clothed on my bed, staring at the ceiling.
Whatever happens next, it is totally out of my hands.
But I still can’t help wondering why “Tori” would do this. What do they get out of it? I could kind of understand doing the public internet thing, because you can watch that play out—it’s there for everyone to see. But this? This feels pointless. Tori is not here to see this happen. Unless she is . . .
I shake my head. No. Don’t want to even consider the possibility that Tori is someone I know. Although that would make sense . . .
I curl myself up into a ball, or do as good a job as I can. No knee-hugging here; not with this stomach. Oh, Amy, I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I? I should have left well enough alone. I thought I was being so clever. Dizzy was a bitch to you, and to me. All I wanted to do was to punish her for it. I actually lied when I told Tori I thought she was okay, because deep down, I still think she was nasty. It’s funny how everyone has forgotten how prickly she was, how judgmental she could be. No, she’s an angel now. All sins forgiven.
I wonder if my sins would be forgiven if I hurt myself, too.
It’s a seductive thought. It wouldn’t be hard. Lots of knives in the kitchen. You don’t even need a big one. Just a sharp one. Run a fruit knife through the sharpener a few times, then slice your skin like it’s a good, rare steak—easy-peasy. Instant sympathy. Instant forgiveness. A blood sacrifice to wash away all sins.
I risk a peek at Facebook and instantly regret it.
Two faced bitch.
Ruin her life.
Can’t believe I trusted you.
Fat cow
You’ll get yours, fat bitch.
Turns out, Tori didn’t have to mention Dizzy to destroy me; I’ve managed to do that all by myself. What makes this even better is that I don’t even know who half these people are.
Two Facebook pages in less than a month. Wow. Even MidnightBanshee would have been impressed with that turnover.
***
I must have fallen asleep, because it’s morning now and I don’t remember dawn happening. My phone is out of charge, my laptop unplugged, and I think they’re going to remain that way.
I don’t get up. Even dragging myself out to use the loo requires a conscious effort. Why not lie here in my own piss? It’s what I deserve.
Nothing to do. Nothing to say. Nothing to live for.
Funny, it wasn’t that long ago when every day was like this. But I didn’t know what I was missing then. I do now.
I’m sorry, Mum. I get it now.