‘You still don’t get it, do you?’ He sighs. ‘I don’t want tostaydead. It’s a means to get to the truth. And I would have found it if you hadn’t interrupted us.’
‘What?’
‘You ruined everything.’
‘You’re alive because of me!’ she says in disbelief. ‘Who was that woman?’
He hesitates. ‘A friend.’
‘Then why haven’t I seen her before?’
‘We only met recently.’
‘Where?’
‘Online.’
‘What, Tinder? You discovered you had a shared an interest in strangulation, so you swiped right and invited her over to tie a noose around your neck? She waskillingyou, Damon.’
‘Only because I asked her to. She was helping me because you wouldn’t.’
‘She was filming you as you were dying! She was getting a kick out of it. She wasn’t going to bring you back.’
‘You don’t know that,’ he replies, lying to himself because the reality of what her agenda might’ve been is too frightening to face. He rubs his neck again.
‘If you saw the panic and then the absolute fury on her face when I interrupted her, you wouldn’t be arguing with me. She was in it for herself.’
‘She was about to resuscitate me.’
‘Please, if you aren’t going to be honest with me, at least be honest with yourself.’
Damon lifts his head and his gaze meets Melissa’s. ‘You refused to help me.’
‘Don’t try and make this about me.’
‘You left me with no other choice. I had to find somebody else.’
‘You did have a choice, and that was to forget about what you imagined. Put that little boy behind you and move on.’
‘He won’t let me! I see himall the time.’ He taps his index finger against his temple. ‘To get him to stop, I need to access what’s locked in here. Why can’t you understand? Jesus, Mel.’
Damon rises from the bed and makes his way into the bathroom, moving like a newborn foal, unsteady and awkward on his feet. Melissa trails behind him in case he falls. He retrieves a tube of Savlon antiseptic cream from the cabinet and massages it into the red imprints the rope has left on his neck. His hands are still trembling and he misses a patch at the back. She rubs it in for him. Together, they stare at one another through their reflections. A question lingers in her mind, one she both does and doesn’t want an answer to. Eventually she relents.
‘When do you see the dead boy?’
‘Always. He’s standing behind you right now.’
Melissa spins on her heels, raising her fists as if to protect them from an assailant. But of course it’s only them in the bathroom. Well, her, him and his hallucination. She turns back to him and takes a deep breath.
‘And he’s not alone anymore,’ Damon continues. ‘Mum is with him.’
‘Now?’ She can’t help it: again she whirls, and repeats her pointless search for the phantoms pursuing him. That his mother has now joined them throws her. He rarely speaks about her because he doesn’t remember much, but her loss left a painful void. She’s suggested many a time that he should consider therapy as a way of reconnecting with his past. And each time, he rebuffs her.
She faces him once more. ‘Please,’ she says, ‘let me get you help. Outpatient, inpatient, you decide. I’ll get you whatever you need, and I’ll be with you every step of the way.’
He steps closer and slowly tilts his head forward until it rests on her hairline.
‘There’s only one way you can help me,’ he says.
