It was my fault. Someone else was dead and it was all my fault. I could have stayed. I should have. Should have told her. I shouldn’t have been going at all. It wasn’t mine, but I’d stolen it.

More vomit. Bile now. Bright yellow, shining under the moonlight. Hot. All the heat pouring out of me and everything that was left was so cold. Ice. My fault. Someone was dead and it was my fault, because I’d stolen something that wasn’t mine.

Because I’d been careless.

So cold.

It should have been me.

It hit me so hard that all the air went out of my chest, all the blood ran from my head. It hit me over and over and over again, smacked into me and broke my teeth and crushed my pelvis, snapped all my bones. Over and over again.

Over and over.

27 AUGUST, NOW

27

AUGUST, NOW

Hours.

Days.

Sometimes, when I opened my eyes, it was light. Sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was in between, hazy and grey. Sometimes the orange streetlight stabbed me in the eye.

I died, over and over.

I didn’t die, wished I could.

I was hot, my skin drenched in sweat, sticky and pink. Cold. Icy. Fingers white. I dragged myself to the toilet, my throat opened, lining ripped off, yellow bile, red blood.

I died. I didn’t die. Hands grabbed at me and voices said things to me and the soft ones were the worst, vicious whispers. It was so hot. So hot the air bent and when I screamed my voice melted and disappeared before it made contact. I woke up pinned to the bed, hands on my shoulders, a mouth on mine. I woke up blue and cold.

I didn’t wake up at all.

Sometimes I heard Marnie’s voice. Other voices. Far away. Sometimes sirens. Coming for me. I hoped coming for me. My stomach hurt. My heart didn’t beat properly. My throat closed. I couldn’t breathe. Drowning.

Acid and hot. Shaking. Freezing cold.

I died. Nobody noticed.

‘Caitlin.’

A sigh. So tired. A hand on my forehead. Another, rolling me over.

‘Oh God, Caitie.’ I recognised it. It reminded me of something.

A long time ago.

‘Come on.’

Pulling. Pulling me up.

‘Cait.’ Soft. Tired. ‘Sit up. Please, you need to sit up.’

Smelled like flowers. Wild. Clean, like a beach. I felt myself laugh.

‘Okay.’ Another sigh. ‘Okay, okay. That’s good. It’s not funny, but you’re okay. Okay.’

Practised. Tired, so tired of this.

Something cold, hard against my lips. A hand on my cheek. ‘Drink. Come on, Cait.’

I felt the water run into my mouth, swallowed. Swallowed more. So thirsty. God. So thirsty. Reached. It moved away.

‘Not too much. Slow.’