I only existed now. I got up in the morning, did my column, and went to bed. I lived on nothing but water and crackers, feeling sick every time something touched my lips. I threw up on several occasions, knowing that the guilt was trying to rid me of its terrible sins. It was almost as if my body was ridding me of the awful things Jeremy thought I had done. Several times, I found myself falling asleep on what was supposed to be his bed. In my arms, I clutched a new book and a packet of Twiglets that he was supposed to eat once he got out of hospital. In the end, I opened a packet and ate the whole lot. It seemed it was the only thing I could keep down. It made me laugh to think this was somehow Jeremy’s punishment for me. That I could only eat Twiglets from now on because of what he thought I did to him. So, day after day, I ate Twiglets. I ate them until I felt sick. I ate them until my stomach was full and my eyes grew heavy with sleep. All I did was work, eat crap, and sleep. It had become my regular pattern for the week. There was no laughter, no tears, no Spaghetti Bolognaise nights, and no visits from my stranger. I just carried on with what I had to, and nothing more.
Once the funeral was over, I found myself driving home in the pouring rain. My parents were there, Louisa and Ian were there, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to see any of them afterwards. I told them I was okay, but the truth of the matter was that I wasn’t. All I wanted to do now was go home, drink my sorrows away, and pray that things would get better one day. So, once I got home, I did just that. I cracked open a bag of Twiglets, poured myself some brandy, and sat there watching Top Gear for four hours straight. Once my eyes grew heavy, I dragged myself, fully-clothed, towards my bed. I couldn’t sleep in Jeremy’s room tonight. My head couldn’t take that right now. I just wanted my familiar smells and the sedated effects of the alcohol to take over. It was only seven o’clock by the time I got to bed, but it was dark enough to fall asleep. It wasn’t long before I did just that.
*****
It didn’t seem like long after that I woke, but when I peeked at the time, it was just after one in the morning. I had slept in the same position for six hours straight. My head felt fuzzy and the nausea was creeping back, but that served me right after downing five shots of brandy.
I knew he was here. That was why I woke up. He was hovering at my bedroom door just like he did every time he came to visit. He would stand there for a while, almost like he was watching me. It was as though he was trying to figure me out. What he was trying to get to the bottom of, I have no idea, but I never once interrupted him. I never once said anything to break his spell. I just let him watch me. I let him stalk me because, now, he was a part of me. I lived and breathed my stranger. I lived and breathed Lotus. What could he offer me in my time of grief? Could he somehow momentarily take away this immeasurable pain? Could it be possible that he could break this spell of depression I had found myself under all week?
Before I could even think about the answers, he stepped forward.
Chapter 40
Dean
Beware the fury of a patient man.
John Dryden
I had been telling myself all week that I had to come to her and see for myself just how much of a stupid fuck I’d been. I had to witness the insurmountable pain I had caused. Not because I wanted to feed off it. Not because I would gain pleasure from it. No. I did it because I had to show myself what I had done to her. I had to see whether all I had put into action was truly worth it in the end. Of course, it wasn’t. I had been telling myself that for a long time now. The voice was there, rattling in my brain. It had been kicking and thumping around in there until my head was sore.
I just didn’t listen.
And what was the end result of all this?
Tyler’s pain. Tyler’s anguish. Tyler’s suffering.
Wasn’t that what I had been wanting all along? Of course! I just didn’t foresee it would result in an innocent boy’s death. I was the cause of his death, no one else. Me. He didn’t deserve to be embroiled in my revenge. He was an innocent victim in all this.
Collateral damage.
Fisting my hands tightly together, I watched as Tyler lay there, fully-clothed. She still wore the same clothes she had on at the funeral. Of course, I was there and watched the whole ceremony. I made myself do it because, in some sick and twisted way, I felt like I was getting the punishment I deserved. I deserved to watch her pain because that was what I was after all along.
But did I feel good about it? Did I celebrate on the rooftops shouting “Hooray, hooray”? Of course not. Jeremy was dead because I was a stupid fuck who was too consumed with rage and desire for revenge. You seek havoc, but all you’ll end up finding is despair.