19.

“It’s not what it looked like.”

That’s the first thing you tell Brad once Joe has taken Chester out of the bathroom. You can hear Chester crying downstairs. You wonder what he’s thinking about to produce the tears. You can’t think of anything that would reduce your ex to tears anymore, he’s become as callous and heartless as a monster.

Brad stares at you from where he’s sitting beside you on the bathroom floor. There’s blood everywhere; on the towel; on the edge of the sink where Brad placed the knife once he’d finally prised it from your hands; there’s even blood on your own hands.

“This has gone too far Mike,” He sighs.

You look at him, tears smudging your vision. He looks so disappointed, so upset. You reach out for his hand.

He doesn’t take it.

“I didn’t hurt him,” You whisper, “I came here to get him to tell the truth because it seems like he’s the only one anyone wants to believe. He said he’d do so if I,” You pause, realising how ludicrous this all sounds, “If I slept with him. So I did because I tried begging him and pleading with him Brad but there was no other way he’d change his mind.”

Brad doesn’t believe you. You can tell from the look on his face. He rubs his eyes with the backs of his hands and yawns.

“When it was over,” You pause awkwardly, “He came in here. I could hear him talking to someone. At least I thought I could so I came in and…”

“He was talking to me,” Brad interrupts, nodding his head to the silver cell phone that you only just notice is sitting on the edge of the bathtub, “He was begging me to come and save him from you. He was so upset Mike, he was…”

“He was lying,” You sniff, “Chester took that knife in his own hands and…”

“Why were you holding it then? Why was he shaking and cowering in that fucking corner?” Brad asks, his voice getting louder, “Why Mike? Tell me why you did this? Because I thought you knew that when someone says no, they mean no.”

“I didn’t do this! I didn’t force him or hurt him! It’s all him!”

Brad gets to his feet, throws his hands up in the air in frustration.

“Why?” He asks, turning to face you, “Why would he do that to you? He’s your best friend for God’s sake.”

“And you were supposed to be mine,” You hear yourself hissing, “Hasn’t stopped you from turning your back on me.”

“I’m not turning my back on you,” He looks hurt and sits down opposite you now on the edge of the bathtub, “Do you think I want to believe him?” He asks, “Do you really think I want to believe that the guy who’s been my best friend for my entire life is some sick, disturbed rapist?”

Sick. Disturbed. Rapist. It’s not just the words that sting you. It’s the look on Brad’s face that hurts the most, that pricks your heart and causes tears to start forming behind your eyelids.

“I’m none of those things,” You protest weakly.

“But Mike, you haven’t shown me otherwise. There’s nothing to back up your stories. Everything to back up Chester’s…”

“Do you think I’m capable of hurting someone that much?” You ask, gazing up at Brad.

He holds your stare and your breath catches in your throat because as soon as you’ve asked the question you’re aware of the horrid taste; the expectation of his answer because it’s not going to be what you want it to be.

“Brad,” You cry, “Don’t say that,” You shake your head, “I’m not capable of doing that, I couldn’t…”

And then you remember showering yourself in the dressing room somewhere in Prague. You remember the way the water stung your skin. The way it took ages to get rid of all the blood. Your blood. Chester’s blood. You remember how you dry heaved into the toilet. You remember how disgusting you felt having pinned Chester down; having raped him. The smell of bleach. The gasps of breath. The utter fear in Chester’s eyes.

Maybe Brad’s unspoken words are right.

“People change,” Brad shrugs, “But they can change back, right? That’s why I want you to go to Midland Hall, get yourself better, get the old you back.”

“But you’d be sending me there for false reasons,” You whisper, “You’d be sending me there because Chester’s made you believe I’m not stable.”

“Mike,” Brad shakes his head sadly, “Mike don’t make this harder for me.”

“Harder for you?” You want to laugh.

“Do you think I’m enjoying this?”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, “Are you?”

Brad begins to cry at that point. You’ve known Brad all your life and have only ever seen him cry twice. Not because Brad’s heartless, but because Brad just can’t cry easily. You’re frozen in shock, unable to move as the sobs and tears freefall from his body.

“Look what you’ve done,” A voice whispers.

You gaze around the bathroom. There’s no one but you and Brad.

“You’ve hurt Chester and now you’ve hurt Brad.”

You shiver, eyes wide as the voice begins to get louder.

“Who next? Joe’s downstairs if you want to break his life into pieces? How about Phoenix? You never did really like him. And what about Rob? Where has he been this past week? Cutting himself again? Don’t pretend you don’t know he’s into cutting too.”

“Just SHUT UP!” You yell, lungs craving air once the words lurch out of your mouth and echo around the small room.

Brad jumps and wipes his tears away.

“No, I didn’t mean.. I wasn’t shouting at you Brad. I was shouting at them.”

Brad meets you with a frown.

“They started,” You pause as something murmurs in the back of your head but you manage to push it aside, “They started last week. I think. They won’t leave me alone and I know you’re going to think I’m crazy but…”

Brad frowns furthermore, his forehead creasing in two, “What? Who?”

“I don’t know,” You sigh in exasperation, “These voices. They just keep talking to me.”

Brad gulps and wipes his hand across his face, “No,” He whispers faintly, “Mike are you telling me you’ve been hearing voices?”

“I’m not crazy!” You tell him frantically, “It’s just that…”

“Have they been,” Brad pauses, bites his lip, “Mike have these voices been telling you to do things?”

You frown. What?

“Have they - have they been telling you to, perhaps, hurt Chester?”

“No!” You exclaim, “Not those sort of voices, just voices,” You tell him.

Brad gets to his feet and steps over to you. He crouches down in front of you, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. His touch is warm against your goose pimpled skin. You gaze at him intently, vaguely aware of something being whispered in the back of your mind but when you shake your head the voice is hushed away.

“Mike I love you,” Brad tells you, “And no matter what you’ve done,” He pauses as a lone tear slides down his cheek, “I’ll always love you.”

Tears fall from your eyes. You stare at Brad in confusion as he chokes back a sob. You don’t like where this is going. You can feel the tension rising in the pit of your stomach, sense the air closing in on you.

“But I have to do this,” He starts again, “I have to make sure you get better and if that means going to Midland Hall, then that’s how it’s got to be. I’ll come and visit you,” He whispers and you want to laugh, isn’t that what Chester told you?

You can’t hold the sobs in anymore and they spill out of you, shaking your entire body. When Brad leans down and pulls you into his arms you can’t help but cling to him for dear life and as you cry and splutter and hold on tightly to him you realise that this is it.

There is only one option left.

Brad pulls away when your tears have died down. He wipes his thumbs against the salty trails that have meandered down your cheeks and presses a kiss against your forehead. Your head’s back in Italy again, back in the middle of that cold, bleak rainstorm. You can feel the air tightening around you when Brad gets to his feet. There is no other way. If your best friend won’t even listen to you, then who will?

Chester’s won, hasn’t he?

“I need to call nurse O’Brian, okay?” Brad’s voice slices into your mental realisation.

You don’t respond, staring vacantly ahead as he pats down his pockets.

“Damn,” You hear him muttering, “I must have left my cell phone at the hospital. I’ll go and see if Joe has his,” Is the last thing you hear him saying as he leaves the bathroom.

It’s all too convenient really, the knife sharp and ready, waiting on the edge of the sink. You shake as you get to your feet and stumble over to the porcelain basin.

“This time, I’ll do it properly,” You say out loud, cold fingers wrapping around the handle of the knife, “None of this slashing my wrists bullshit.”

The knife still has Chester’s blood on it when you’ve finished counting to ten, have closed your eyes and are plunging it repeatedly into your chest, too busy awing at how easy it is to notice the crippling pain. After the fourth time you fall to the floor, head smashing against the edge of the bathtub; knife cascading to the ground a few seconds before your body. Your vision blurs and you taste blood in your mouth.

Then you feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Brad crashes into the bathroom first, and even in your almost-dead state you can see the fear in his eyes. Well, honestly, you think. It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?

“Oh God,” Brad collapses to his knees beside you, “Oh my God Mike.”

You were once put under anaesthesia as a child, always remembered by the sudden way you felt the world blackening before your eyes once a hefty amount of anaesthetic had been pushed into a vein on your hand. This feels like a slow motion version of that hazy memory and broken sentences and uttered words make their way into your ears as you gradually begin to slip out of the world.

“Thank fuck Chester left his phone in here…

“Joe hurry up…”

“It’s okay, I’ll call for help…”

“Joe he’s…”

“Hello? Who’s this? Sorry? I need to make a phone call…”

“Joe hurry up.”

“Brad. Brad there’s… what? We need an, yes, ambulance. How long have you been there?”

“Joe what’s going… Joe?”

You smile as your eyes drift shut, even though you’re feeling cold you suddenly feel very calm. Chester can’t hurt you anymore, you think to yourself; he can’t touch you or reduce you to tears or play with you any longer. He can’t turn your friends against you.

He can’t harm you when you’re six feet under.

“Brad they - Chester didn’t end the call he made to you…”

“Have you got an ambulance for God’s sake?”

“Yes - the hospital were already on the other end of the line, Brad, Chester didn’t end the call.. You dropped your phone..”

“Christ Joe I don’t care! Mike? Mike please open your eyes. Mike please, please don’t do this. Please just open your eyes…”

“Nurse O’Brian found your phone. Brad listen to me! She’s been listening to everything that’s been said in this room.”

You feel something spark inside you, suddenly reaching out for Brad as Joe’s words etch through the hazy gleam around your mind. Oh God. Oh God.

“Brad. Chester’s been lying.”

Joe’s words are the last thing you hear.

+

TBC…