‘Like shit.’ He managed a slight smile. ‘Elles, I’m so so—’
‘Look.’ She held her finger up. ‘You’ve apologized enough. Trust me, if I hear another sorry come out of your mouth, I’ll do more damage to you than you’ve managed to do to yourself.’
The tears started to run down his cheeks, silent rivers of salt falling on to the sheets between them.
‘All I need you to do is promise me you’ll stop this madness. Have you seen the state you’re in?’ She gently held up his arm, now tinged a deep blue. ‘You’re hurt, Fin. Really hurt. What happened?’
He closed his eyes.
‘You can’t remember, can you?’ She didn’t want to get angry but the frustration was starting to break through her defences.
He shook his head.
They both sat in silence, allowing the gravity of the situation to fill every inch of space between them. It was heavy but it needed to be felt.
‘Thanks for not calling my mum. Or my dad.’
‘I can’t keep doing this.’ She let the weight of her head fall into her hands. ‘Youcan’t keep doing this.’
‘I know. I’m going to stop, I really am.’
‘I wish I could believe you, but I can’t. It’s happened too many times, Fin. This is getting serious. You need help.’
‘But I have you.’ He smiled weakly.
‘You won’t have anyone if you carry on like this. You’ll be dead.’ The words punctured the air with more force than she’d intended. She didn’t care; she needed him to know she wasn’t playing around any more.
‘Come on, Elles. Don’t be so drama—’
‘Don’t you dare,’ she hissed. ‘Don’t you dare do that. This isn’t a joke. This isn’t a one-off drunken night. This is a problem, Fin, and you need professional help.’
He was staring at her now, his eyes filled with terror.
‘If you don’t tell your mum about this, or get yourself some help …’ She stood up and took a deep breath in. ‘I will.’
‘Elles, please,’ he begged.
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘I love you too much, Fin, to lose you. You tell them or I will.’
Now
Eleanor
Eleanor began to stir. Her entire body hurt as she tried to turn over on to her side. Her stomach ached deeply and her head felt as though someone was raking their nails along the inside of her skull. It took a while for her to come around fully. Her eyes were gummed shut with sleep and her mind was hazy.
‘What the hell happened?’ she moaned, tasting the remnants of tequila, mint and …
‘Oh God,’ she cried, looking down at her sick-stained dress. The realization forced her upright. ‘No. No. No.’ She grabbed the cover and pulled it over her face. When had she been sick? Not at the wedding. Please, not at the wedding. Why had she gone to sleep in her dirty clothes? And what the hell was this dressing gown doing wrapped around her?
Eleanor closed her eyes and willed herself to focus. She remembered the ceremony, she remembered the dinner, she remembered dancing. Everything was fine until that point. Where had it gone wrong? She sifted through the fragments of her memory and felt her stomach lurch in protest. Thereshe was, at the bar, with Laura and her new husband and an entire tray of shots.
Why?
Why, Eleanor, why?
A part of her wanted to lie here for the rest of the day, dissolve into the bed sheets and languish in pity. But the smell of her was too wretched to sit with, and she knew she somehow had to get up and get ready to drive home. Slowly she sat up, her head swirling with lights and colours. She set her hands down and carefully lifted her fragile body up to standing. Then she saw him, curled on the floor.
‘Fin?’ she whispered.
