I Need You. Jane Lark

been sick. It was like her stomach was empty.”

      “Yeah, well she took them three hours ago at least, that’s when she left home.”

      Her dad sounded defeated. I’d never heard him talk like that. She had fucked up her parents not just herself.

      “Lindy! Lindy, honey! Come on, you got to wake up!” He slapped her face and shook her.

      Her hand swung out to stop him slapping her, but so weakly it was pathetic.

      She’d been the center of attention at school, the leader of the girls, the one every guy wanted… Now she lay in a wasted heap. She’d hit a self-destruct button.

      Lindy what the hell did you do to yourself?

      Problem was Jason and I had both played our part in her destruction.

      My heart ached and my lungs were too tight to get any air into.

      Her dad kept talking to her and smacking her face. She mumbled something back at him, annoyed.

      Jason’s dad pulled up. He got out of his truck, then came over. “I’ve come to pick the boys up, Dwayne. How is she?”

      Mr. Martin looked back at him. “Darren. I’d appreciate it, if you, and you boys…” He looked at us with a meaningful gaze, “say nothing to anyone about this.”

      I nodded, as Jason did. But I doubted Lindy would want us to be the keepers of her murky secret. She couldn’t trust either of us.

      The ambulance came along the street, siren screaming.

      At least the street was lined with stores so no one peered around their curtains, watching.

      Mr. Martin stood up as the medics got out. He told them in a low voice what she’d taken.

      In minutes she was strapped on a gurney, then rolled into the ambulance. He didn’t go with her. He said he had to get the car back to the station and find someone to cover his absence. He said he’d meet them at the hospital.

      I wanted to go. But, it wasn’t my place––she and I hadn’t spoken for months so I could hardly force myself on her in an ambulance when she couldn’t say, fuck you, you bastard.

      My gaze and my heart followed the ambulance as it pulled away.

      “Will you let me know how she is, Dwayne?” Jason said, before Mr. Martin got back in his car.

      He stared at Jason for a moment, then nodded. “Thanks for trying to help her, and for calling me.”

      It didn’t seem like he blamed Jason for Lindy falling apart.

      I wondered if he knew about my part––if he blamed me. I blamed me. I owed her bad.

      Jason’s dad climbed back into the driver’s seat of his truck. Jason stood beside it holding the passenger door. “You coming?”

      “No. I’ll walk. Clear my head.”

      Jason gave me a concerned look, then he let go of the door, walked over, held me and then smacked my shoulder. “It was good catching up. We’ll do it again? We’ve made up now, right?”

      “Right,” I answered, fist bumping his hand. But my voice was subdued. Our reunion had been ruined.

       Lindy

      Had I hit my head? God, the pain was crazy. I opened my eyes. Where the hell was I? The walls in the room were white, the bed I was in metal, and the pillow like a pack of cement, and a smell of disinfectant hung in the air. I was in a hospital.

      Oh my God, I’d taken the pills and survived and now I had to face everyone…

      Shit. Guilt and embarrassment washed in with the force of a tsunami. I’d let Mom down. Dad would be heartbroken and disappointed. I’d hurt them.

      I’d been wrapped up in pain last night, trapped in it, in the darkness, in chains of self-pity, I knew that, I could see the external perspective others saw––but they weren’t in my head, in the dark.

      It had stopped being just emotions months ago, maybe years ago, and become a jail cell. I couldn’t see any end to this life sentence.

      Everything had become scary. Others lived but I couldn’t.

      Then there had been Jason’s news, everywhere––on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr and Instagram. The baby had been born. The pictures were circulating like crazy.

      Everyone we’d been at school with had shared them.

      They’d called the kid, Saint. It was a crappy name.

      People said he’d picked a name for the kid to grow into.

      I rolled on to my side, tears running onto my cheeks and curled up hugging the cement-like pillow. A year ago, he’d been with me. I’d been engaged. I’d had a future, something to look to, now there was nothing.

      I gave up my job, because I’d worked at the store with his dad.

      His new girl, his wife, worked there now.

      Life sucked. I hated fate. Why did it have to pick people out for bad things when they’d done nothing wrong? I’d given up believing in God or Karma or anything. Except angels…I hoped people came back after they died and watched over you.

      I wiped the tears away.

      There weren’t any monitors in the room, so I couldn’t have been so sick but I should probably buzz for a nurse and tell them I’d woken up.

      I couldn’t. Embarrassment hit too hard. Maybe fate had been kind to me in that, keeping me alive, but now I felt stupid for taking an overdose… I didn’t know how I’d face Mom.

       Billy

      My thumb hovered over the send icon for the twentieth time today. Jason had texted yesterday to say he’d heard from Mr. Martin. Lindy was okay, just sleeping the drugs off in the hospital. He’d said she’d be out of action for a while.

      I wanted to text her. But cowardice had a grip on my hand.

      I switched the cell off, put it back in my pocket then got in the SUV to go to my next client.

      I didn’t think of her while I worked. I had to watch my client, to make sure he did the exercises right and didn’t strain anything, and to count his repetitions.

      But as soon as I left the guy my mind was back on Lindy.

      Was she still in hospital?

      Would she want me to text?

      Did she know we’d been there?

      Why the hell had she taken an overdose? Was it just a cry for help or had she really meant to end it?

      How did she feel now?

      The only way I was gonna get any answers was to text her. I took my cell out of the pocket of my sweat pants as I threw my backpack on the back seat of the SUV.

      I got in with it gripped in my hand and sat there for a minute, looking at her picture. I’d taken it last year, after Jason had left for New York, when she and I had been hanging out a lot more, alone for the first time.

      ‘Hey, Lindy, sorry I haven’t been in touch. I should’ve been. How are you?’ My thumb hovered over ‘send’, my heart pounding out a bass beat. I had to do this. She was never gonna break the ice between us and I couldn’t stand feeling guilty anymore.

      I didn’t expect an immediate reply. But relief hit me just because I’d done the deed.

      I threw my cell on the passenger seat, slipped the gear shift into drive and pulled my seatbelt on, then pressed my foot on the gas.

      My cell rang ten minutes later. I was on the road into town. Flicking the indicator on, I pulled into the side and parked