“Well slap my ass and call me Clementine!” Dean says, stopping in his tracks, turning to face me. “What brings you to my neck of the woods, darlin?”

I was caught off guard by Dean’s appearance. He wasn’t the big, tall, serious fireman I met outside the hospital. He was dressed down, and by dressed down I mean grey sweats, a matching grey t-shirt with ‘New York Yankees’ written in white across the chest, white converse shoes on, and a Yankees baseball cap on backward. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought he’s just been at a game.

“Me?” I sit up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “What are you doing here?”

Dean strolls up to my door and leans against it. “I’m here for the view,” he nods to the windows behind me.

“Well, I’m here because apparently, I’m quite a forgettable person,” I reply quietly, turning and pulling the blankets back.

I feel Dean’s eyes watch as my body curls into its signature ball of pain.

“Cami-“

I cut Dean off. “Don’t say I’m not, please Dean. I can’t take another lie.”

Dean lets out a quiet sigh before asking, “Are ya hungry, darlin?”

“No, but thank you for asking.” I turn my head slightly and smile at him.

“I can hear your stomach growling from here, darlin. Let me get you something small.”

I am hungry, but I don’t know if I can stomach anything right now. However, Diane’s words echo in my head, “It’s not just your mind that needs looking after, but your body”.

“Ok, thanks, Dean,” I reply quietly.

“Good! Let me wash up ‘cos I don’t know if you can smell it, but I smell like horse arse. Then I’ll grab you some grub, ok?” He chuckles.

I giggle at his comment but quickly catch myself and stop it in its tracks.

“Mmhmm.”

“I’ll be right back!” He says, pulling the door closed.

I pull my blanket over my head, leaving only a small hole for air and lay there in the dark.

“I’m so fucking tired,” I say quietly to myself as tears begin to sting my eyes. “I just want all of this to stop.”

On the edge of another night of crying myself to sleep, I pull the collar of Jonathan’s shirt up and over my nose. Inhaling deeply, I let myself sink into his smell. It’s slowly fading with every day that passes and the thought of never smelling him again causes my stomach to twist itself into knots of anger and overwhelming sadness. I’m angry that I didn’t chase him, that I let him become my only reason for breathing but I’m sad because I will never feel his arms around me, feel him softly nuzzle into my hair and inhale my scent or the way he made me feel beautiful even when I couldn’t see it myself. I long to feel myself again but I don’t know if I ever will.

Wiping the tears from my cheek, I roll over, wrapping the blanket around me like a cocoon as I go. I only get so far when I’m stopped by a warm lump that is now on the side of the bed that was, up until now, unoccupied. Reluctantly, I pull the blanket down just enough to see what it is that dares to get in the way of my pity party. Stretched out like a fluffy sausage is an all-black cat flicking its tail back and forth like I’m the one invading their space. Scooting up a little I lay down next to the now purring lump whose head turns like an owl and stares straight into my soul.

“Hey, you.” I smile, slipping an arm out and scratching the side of the cat’s face. The fluffy sausage presses their head harder into my hand forcing my light scratch to be more of a ruff scratch. “Do you have a name, sausage?” I ask, sitting up.

“Her name is Pickle,” Dean says, pushing the door open. “But we all call her Pick.”

“What a cute name you have,” I smile down at her. “Is she always this friendly?” I look up at Dean.

“No, I’ve been here a month and all she’s done is hissed at everyone,” he replies, placing my food down on the side table. “Especially if you sit in the chair closest to the fireplace in the common room. That’s Picks spot, right Pick?”

In typical cat fashion, Pickle doesn’t even acknowledge Dean’s comments or presence and just continues her assault on my hand.

“I know when I’m not wanted,” he directs his comments to Pick. “I’ll leave you, girls, to it. It was good seeing you again Camilla,” he says quietly, backing up towards my door.

“Yeah, you too.” I half smile back.

“Look after her, Pickle.” He winks at Pickle as he turns around, grabs the door handle, and closes it.

“Goodnight, Dean, and thank you for the food,” I call to him just before he closes my door completely.

“Anytime darlin,” I hear him reply from behind the door.

I crawl off the bed, grab the TV remote and turn it on as I walk back to my bed. Grabbing my plate of food, I hear my stomach growl so loud I thought it would wake the entire place. The aroma coming from the plate made my mouth water instantly. It’s been a long time since I had a proper meal and tonight’s meal was comfort food. Country style chicken wings with homemade Mac n Cheese and a cucumber tzatziki sauce. Exactly what I needed.

Plopping down next to Pickle, I quickly flick through the channels to find something to watch before the gorging begins. Pick, all the while is sitting next to me grooming every single inch of her fat little body that she can reach while purring up a storm.

So cute, I think to myself as I stuff the chicken into my face.

“Oh my gosh, Pick,” I turn to her. “You gotta try some of this chicken, it’ll blow your little cat mind.”

Pickle looks up at me sarcastically before halting her grooming and lazily sashaying her way over to me. I tear a small piece of the meat off, making sure there isn’t any spice on it, place it on the palm of my hand and then offer it to her. She sniffs it, looks at me and then begins devouring it as if her life depended on it.

“See? Good hey?” I smile down at her as I stroke down her back.

That’s how the rest of the night went, watching TV and me feeding Pickle bits of chicken till we were both overfull and feeling disgusted with ourselves. It’s the first time in a month that I felt hope. Hope that maybe tomorrow would be a better day. I don’t know whether it was the food or Pickle, but I liked this feeling.

 

The next morning

 

I wake up in the same position I fell asleep in, spooning with Pickle. Slowly rolling over, the sun hits my tired eyes full force causing them to snap shut.

“Should have closed the curtains last night,” I sigh, rubbing my eyes.

Swinging my legs out of bed, I sit there for a moment stretching my tired body.

“What’s the time?” I yawn as I grab my phone. “Ugh! It’s 8 am.” I moan as I scroll through my phone.

Three messages from Laila. Two from Kay and two missed calls from Emir.

“Let’s message my girls back then call Emir, what do you think, Pick?” I give her a scratch and take her deep purr as a yes as I dial Emir.

“Morning sunshine,” Emir beams down the phone.

“Morning,” I yawn.

“Did you just wake up?” He asks sarcastically.

“Mmhmm,” I hum.

“How was your first night?”

“It was ok, I ate something that wasn’t noodles and made friends with the resident cat.” I flop down on the bed.

“Wow! That’s big Cami, I’m proud of you!”

“It’s just food and a cat Emir, I didn’t cure cancer,” I reply sarcastically.

“Cami-“

I cut him off. “What are you doing? I can hear stuff being moved around. You better not be rearranging my house,” I scold.

“I’m…” he pauses letting out a sigh.

“You’re at Jonathan’s, aren’t you?” 

“Cami-“

I cut him off again. “It’s ok Emir. It is what it is, right?” My voice trails off.

“I thought I’d gather up your things while you’re away. Is there anything, in particular, you want me to make sure we get while I’m here?”

My heart? I think to myself as tears threaten to fall.

“Ahh, no.” I choke out.

“I’m sorry Cami,” Emir says quietly.

“I have to go; I’ll text you later.” 

I don’t give Emir a chance to reply. I need to get off this phone and away from the thought of him being in the one place, I felt whole. Hanging up abruptly, I lay there, spiralling into my warm, dark hole where all hope I had from last night slowly slips away. Out of nowhere, I hear something hitting my window, it sounds like a mixture of sand and small rocks.

“Why can I not just sink and be left alone?” I grumble sitting up.

It hits the window again and gives Pick a fright. She jumps off the bed, stretches and then jumps up onto the window seat.

“I guess we are checking this out, huh Pick?” I look at her and frown.

Her gaze darts from me and back out the window as another handful of sand and rocks hits the window.

“Ugh!” I grumble as I drag myself over to the window and plonk down next to Pickle. There, standing next to a dark brown horse is none other than Dean. He puts one finger up in the air letting me know to give him a minute. He pulls a white piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolds it, and holds it up for me to see.

Squinting hard I read it quietly to myself, “Why did the snowman divorce his wife?”

I look at Dean and shrug my shoulders. He looks away, smirks, and then pulls another piece of paper out of his pocket.

Because she was a flake.

It was a good joke, but I couldn’t bring myself to smile or laugh. I didn’t have it in me anymore.

Dean frowns, then yells, “Ok, I get it. Not my best joke but I will bring that smile back to your face eventually.” He shoots me a cheeky wink, swings his leg over the horse and sets off down the path. I watch him slowly disappear into the woods before moving my tired arse into the bathroom to clean up this mess called Camilla. Tying my knot filled hair up into a ponytail and rolling on some deodorant because the smell coming from my armpits is enough to kill everyone in a 600-mile radius are the first steps to a half-decent version of myself.

“It’ll do,” I say, sniffing my armpits, making sure my shame is covered.

Stepping out of the bathroom, I open the top draw of the dresser and throw on the first thing I find; a red and black gingham shirt and black leggings.

I mean, who am I trying to impress? Not like they’ll remember me anyway; I think to myself.

That thought cuts like a knife but it’s the truth.

“Ok, today we’re going down for breakfast, Pick.” I look over at her and smile nervously.

I don’t even believe my own words.

As I reach for the door a soft knock stops me in my tracks.

“Ummm, come in,” I reply nervously, stepping backwards.

The door opens slowly, and Diane pokes her head in.

“Morning, dear,” she smiles warmly at me. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake or not, but I wanted to check on you.” She steps into my room.

“I just got up a few minutes ago.”

“How did you sleep? Dean told me you ate something last night and managed to make friends with lady muck over there.” She smirks, looking over my shoulder at Pickle.

“She made friends with me.” I glance over at Pickle who had just jumped off the window seat and was sashaying her way over to us. “And the meal was really yummy, thank you, Diane.” I turn back to her.

“Oh, don’t thank me dear. That’s all Doug’s doing. That man is a god in the kitchen.” She winks at me.

“Ok, well thank him for me then.” I look down as I feel Pickle rub herself up against my leg.

“You can do that yourself when you see him next, but for now I may have brought you some breakfast.” She turns and reaches for something off a small cart.

“Oh, Diane, I could have gone and gotten that.”

No, you couldn’t. Stop acting like you would, we both know you would have opened that door and then thought of some lame excuse not to go, my inner voice states bluntly.

And although I hate her, I know she is right.

“It’s no problem at all, Camilla, honestly,” Diane says as she turns back to me with a bowl of fresh fruit and a tall glass of apple juice.

Chewing on my thumb nervously, I reach forward and take the food from her. “Thank you, Diane, really. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, dear. Baby steps.” Diane smiles warmly at me as she reaches out and rubs my arm. “Now, I’ll leave you and Pickle to enjoy your breakfast,” she says as she slips out the door, closing it quietly.

As I make my way to the side table to put my food down, the door slowly opens again, and Diane pops her head in. “Oh, I almost forgot, your therapist will be around in about 20 minutes to introduce herself,” she winks. “Ok, I’m really going this time.” Diane chuckles as she closes my door again.

I pick at my breakfast. I didn’t realise it but the idea of eating three times a day made me feel anxious. I know it sounds stupid because it’s so normal for everyone, but doing normal things meant I was moving on. I know, I know it doesn’t mean that and even though my mind tells me that my heart says otherwise. I am truly at odds with myself. I’ve never fought with myself like this in my entire life. When I did something, everything was on board but now we are almost like separate beings. I’m truly broken in every sense of the word.

If you would like to see all the NSFW art, please head over to my new website https://alishajane.com to read these chapters with the art =)

There is NO sign-up and it is completely FREE to read.

Also, don’t forget to follow me on my IG @ajwrites87 for sneak peeks and updates!

Love, AJ