‘Don’t, Eleanor. I don’t need more of your disappointment today,’ he spat angrily, shaking her hand off him.
‘Disappointment?’ She looked confused.
‘Nothing. Don’t worry.’ He dismissed his words with a flick of his wrist, praying the image of her face this morning would erase itself from his mind. Her features hadtransformed into a grotesque caricature; the revulsion in her expression was sickening.
‘Of course I’m worried.’ She sat beside him and placed her hand softly on his cheek.
No. He wasn’t going to go here again. She couldn’t barge intohisflat, sit onhissofa, and act all tender and loving after rejecting him that very morning.
‘Don’t do that,’ he snarled, pulling her hand from his face.
‘I know you’re angry and upset, but you don’t need to take it out on me.’
He could feel his heart pull inside his chest; he didn’t want her to see him like this.
‘You need to go.’ He stood, trying to put as much space between them as possible.
‘I’m not going anywhere when you’re in this state.’ She got up from the sofa and marched into the kitchen. ‘You need to drink some water and eat some food.’
‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t get todothis.’
Eleanor handed him a glass of water. ‘Do what, Fin?’ She looked at him curiously.
‘This,’ he shouted, unable to control himself any longer. ‘Looking after me. Pretending you care.’
‘I do care.’
‘Do you? Really?’
‘Of course I care,’ she insisted. The sadness in her voice was only making him want to drink more.
I need to drink more.
‘You don’t care, Eleanor. You feel sorry for me. There’s a difference.’
‘This is nonsense. You’re talking nonsense,’ she stated flatly, as though he were nothing more than a dramatic child throwing a tantrum.
‘Stop treating me like a kid, Eleanor. You don’t need to tell me off.’ He pushed past her back to the alcohol cupboard. He crouched down and reached in to retrieve another bottle of numbness. This time it was gin.
‘Well, stop acting like one then,’ she shouted.
Fin unscrewed the top of the bottle and took a deep mouthful, relishing the look of panic on Eleanor’s face.
‘Stop!’ She was in front of him, pulling his arm down. ‘You’re only going to make things worse.’
‘But it’s OK for you to get drunk and do whatever the hell you want?’ he spat viciously. The anger inside him seemed endless.
‘I don’t have a problem with alcohol, though, do I?’
Fin snorted and took another sip. ‘Could have fooled me, when you launched yourself at me and then practically passed out in your own vomit.’ He staggered forwards an inch, finding a perverse pleasure in the horror on Eleanor’s face.
‘That was different,’ she muttered.
‘Oh, so youdoremember that night?’ He laughed cruelly, taking another swig from the bottle. ‘Whatever – it doesn’t even matter. You don’t need to be here and you don’t need to look after me any more,’ he snapped. ‘You relinquished your role as carer a long time ago.’
‘I’m not trying to look after you. I’m trying to be your friend.’
‘Really? Is that what we are? Friends? Come on, Eleanor, I’m an inconvenience to you. I always have been. You know what?’ He gave another cruel, sharp laugh. ‘I bet you were relieved when I went away. Did you a favour. No more caring for poor pathetic Fin.’
