Losing Me Finding You (7 page)

31st October 1992

Sixteen years old

When I wake up, I immediately know something is wrong. It’s dark outside but the house is quiet, too quiet. It’s only been eight months but I’ve somehow already grown used to the sound of yelling, or plates smashing, or a wall being kicked in. Something is usually breaking.

Silence is scary, because silence means something is wrong. When they’re arguing with each other, I know they aren’t focused on me. But I also know they are both still alive, because god knows, there are plenty of ways for them to not be.

I slip out of bed, noticing now just how hot it is in my room. I turn to the window, which is shut and see the star filled sky, a huge moon shining down at me. There are no curtains, there never have been, I guess that’s a luxury my parents don’t seem to think I need. Or most likely, probably can’t afford. I walk towards the window and slide it open, leaning half of my body out so I can inhale the cool night air.

I notice it immediately; the smell of smoke. As I glance at the rest of the house, I see the bright orange glow coming from the window next to mine. The window that belongs to my parents.

“Shit,” I say, turning and running towards my bedroom door. As my hand touches the handle, I cry out with pain and pull it back. It’s burning hot and I definitely can’t open it. Looking around my room for anything I might be able to use, I see the t-shirt I was wearing earlier today. Wrapping it around my hand, I try again, this time managing to open the door. As soon as I see what’s on the other side though, I slam it shut again.

The whole house looks like it’s on fire. The whole fucking house and I’m trapped. Stuck in my room with no way out because it’s a twenty-foot drop to the ground outside my window.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I say, wondering what the hell I can do. I have no idea if my stupid parents are here or whether they are even alive anymore. A part of me doesn’t even care, not after what I’ve had to live through for the last eight months. As the smell of smoke starts to spread into my room, I turn and see it now creeping in through the gap under the door. I need to get out of here, fast.

“Help!” I yell out my open window. I look down again, contemplate jumping but decide two broken legs isn’t going to get me very far if I do. “Help, please, somebody help me!” I try screaming again.

I have no idea if anyone hears me, but I keep screaming anyway, not sure if my throat is sore from yelling or from the smoke that’s now rapidly filling my bedroom. If I don’t get out of here soon, it’s not going to matter if anyone hears me.

As my eyes start to sting and breathing becomes a lot harder, I try calling out, one last time. “Please! Somebody, help me!”

And then everything gets fuzzy. My eyes are watering so badly that I can barely see. I think I hear the sound of sirens, but I can’t be sure because there is a roaring sound filling the room and making it impossible to hear anything. Lights seem to be flashing, all colours, lighting up the night sky, which I can see above me. I must be lying down, but I don’t remember doing that. I try to stand, but I can’t, my legs feel like lead. I open my mouth to yell once more, one last time, but I can’t now. My mouth is filled with cotton wool, making it impossible to say anything. The heat suddenly gets worse and I can actually see red. Flames I think, dancing in front of me. They’d almost look beautiful if they weren’t so damn hot. If I could breathe.

I see someone who looks strangely familiar, run into my room. He’s big, almost as big as my dad and I watch as he bends over me. I think he’s trying to talk to me, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. I have no idea if I’m talking back; I have no idea about anything anymore. It’s too hot and I can’t breathe and just as the whole world goes black, a random thought runs through my head.

I was supposed to find you.

“Evie?”

I hear my name, spoken with a voice that sounds achingly familiar.

“She’s resting son, let her rest.”

“I know,” the voice says. “I just can’t believe it’s her.”

I wonder who this voice belongs to. I want to open my eyes and find out but they feel weighed down, almost like they’re stuck shut and I can’t seem to find the strength to unstick them. I feel someone pick up my hand and hold it in theirs, threading our fingers together. The action triggers a memory, a feeling of doing this before. Something about this voice and this hand, the way it’s holding mine, is so intimate and personal, as though it’s all happened a thousand times before this.

It makes my chest ache with a loneliness that comes from too many months spent without something important. Too many months spent wondering what I’ve been missing. And now, this touch is teasing me, telling me this thing is within reach, if only I can figure out what it is. It’s unbearable and I almost want it to stop, but at the same time, never let me go. Because if it stays, I might actually be able to figure it all out.

“She’s very lucky,” the other person says.

“Is she going to be alright?” the voice asks and I can hear the fear.

“She should be, yes. We got to her just in time.”

I hear a large exhale, almost feel whoever is holding my hand, physically relax beside me. My hand is lifted now, still held in this big, warm hand and my heart nearly stops at what happens next. A pair of lips are pressed against my palm and there is a warmth that I don’t think I’ve ever felt before, flooding through me, healing me, making me feel…loved.

Is this what I’ve been missing?

I’d do anything to hang on to this feeling right now.

“What about them?” the voice asks, lips moving against my skin. The words are harsh and this time the question is laced with disgust.

The other person sounds closer as they say, “They’ve survived too. They’re fine, totally unharmed. The fire was only on the second floor. Evie, she was…she was very lucky.”

“Fuck,” I hear the voice whisper. “She shouldn’t be with them,” it says now. “I can’t believe she’s been with them all this fucking time. Dad, we’ve got to get her away from those people.”

“They’re her legal guardians, Ben, we can’t…”

But I don’t hear anything else, because right then, with that one single word, everything comes flooding back. All of it, all at once, hard and fast, filling me with a thousand memories as I finally work out what it is that’s been missing, what
I’ve
been missing.

Him.

He’s here and all of the looks, the touches, the kisses, and every single second I’ve spent with him, it all comes back.

Ben.

My Ben.

He’s here with me. He’s here and he’s holding my hand. He’s found me…I can’t believe he’s found me. I find my strength now and force my eyes to open. Force them to focus on the man who’s sitting beside my bed, holding my hand in both of his, his lips still pressed against my skin.

“Evie,” he says when he sees I’m awake. He leans in closer as he brushes the hair back from my face, just like he used to. It’s no longer just a memory now, it’s real, it’s happening. “Thank god you’re okay, baby. It’s going to be okay. I promise, I’ve got you, Evie. I’ve got you.”

And my heart’s melting and I’m crying and I can’t believe he’s found me again.

Ben. My Ben.

1st November 1992

Sixteen years old

The next time I open my eyes, it’s easier. A weight has been lifted, not just from my head, but also my heart. My whole body feels unshackled, as though it’s finally free. But at the same time, I feel anchored, as though I finally understand where I’m supposed to be.

The room is light now and as I turn my head, I see Ben sitting on a chair beside my bed watching me. He’s smiling as he half stands and leans in to press a kiss to my forehead. I smile as he pulls back and I see my fingers reach up to push the hair off his face.

“Hey, baby,” he says, his voice a whisper. “Miss me?”

It’s such a simple question, but the meaning behind it, the answer, is so much more complicated, for both of us. I haven’t just missed him; I’ve craved him, even before I knew what I was missing in the first place. And the way Ben’s looking at me now, the blue eyes that are holding mine, the tiny smile on the mouth I’ve missed kissing, I know he feels exactly the same way.

I try to speak, “Al…” but I can’t get the word out because my throat feels like I’ve swallowed razor blades. “Ye…” The words won’t come, so I just nod at him, slide my hand to the back of his neck now and pull him back towards me. Ben’s smile widens as he leans in and presses his lips softly against mine. I kiss him, and finally get back what I’ve been missing for the last eight months.

“Here,” Ben says, grabbing the water from beside my bed. “Have some of this, it’ll be easier to talk.”

I sit up and realise I’m in a hospital bed, wrapped in a hospital gown. I notice a tube leading from me, to a tank that’s sitting next to my bed, and discover I have an oxygen tube running under my nose, which I’m now pulling off.

“No, Evie, don’t,” Ben says, taking my hand away. “You need it.” He hands me the cup of water, which has a straw, and as I take a drink I relish the cool refreshing water that immediately calms my throat down. “More?” Ben asks when I finish. I nod and he refills it and I drink a second cup before I finally feel like I can talk.

“Thank you,” I breathe out, watching as Ben smiles at me. “What, what happened?” I finally ask, my voice raspy.

Ben sits down and takes my hand in his again. “There was a fire, in your house,” he says, his voice measured in a way that I know means he’s trying to control his anger. “It was only on the second floor, but you were trapped.”

I swallow, the memory of opening my bedroom door and seeing all the flames still fresh. “And my parents?” I ask, although I’m not sure why I really care seeing as they don’t appear to care about me.

Ben’s face darkens and I feel his fingers tighten around mine. “Yeah, they’re fine,” he bites out. “They were downstairs and managed to get out with no worries at all.”

Oh. “How did the fire start?” I ask him.

Ben clears his throat, shifting in his seat almost as though he’s embarrassed. “Apparently from a lit cigarette,” he says. “Someone left one burning in the upstairs bedroom, forgot about it.”

I close my eyes as my head falls back against the pillow. She did this; I know straightaway it was her. She always lights her cigarettes and leaves them lying around. There never seems to be enough ashtrays, or if there are, they’re full. So she just leaves it wherever she feels like it. On the side of a table, resting on a book, wherever. It was really only a matter of time before something like this happened.

“Evie?” Ben whispers, moving so he’s sitting on the edge of my bed now. “Are you okay?”

“She did this,” I whisper, opening my eyes.

“Your mum?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Did she do this too?” Ben asks, his fingers running gently down my arm.

I turn to look at what he’s talking about. My arms are covered in bruises, both old and new. As I lift up the sleeve of my gown, I see there’s an entire handprint on my right shoulder and as I stare at the evidence, I can feel tears of helplessness start to fill my eyes.

“Evie?” Ben asks gently.

I nod. “They both do,” I say, not sure I can look at him right now.

“Hey, baby,” he says softly, tilting my chin so I have to. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here now and I’ll look after you. I promise I’m going to look after you.”

And I nod as the tears start to fall, remembering all the times he’s promised me this, knowing that he means it, every single time. Ben wraps me in his arms and I sink into him, wishing I could have found him sooner, wishing I didn’t have to live all those months without him.

The loneliness, the ache of separation, it’s all come back now. Now that I’ve remembered all that I lost, I feel every single one of those minutes that I didn’t have him. They stab at my heart, reminding me of what I’ve been missing.

“Shhh, baby, it’s okay,” Ben whispers, his hand gently rubbing my back as he holds me. My fingers grab hold of the front of his jumper, pulling him even closer as I sob into his chest. Ben lets me cry. He doesn’t say anymore, just softly rubs my back, and presses the occasional kiss to my head.

Eventually, my tears stop and I pull back. Ben smiles at me, gently brushing my tears away with his thumbs. “Okay?” he asks.

I nod. “How did you find me?” I ask him.

He smiles now. “Dad did,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “He was the first on scene at the house. Your parents were pretty wasted, but he worked out someone was still trapped inside, so he went in and he found you. Brought you outside and rescued you,” Ben says. He’s smiling as he tells me the story and I know he’s proud of his dad for doing this. I also know he’s picturing himself doing the exact same thing, because being a firefighter is something Ben’s wanted to do his whole life. “When he got you outside, he recognised who you were. So he got you into the ambulance, made sure you were okay, and then he called me, told me he’d found you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah,” Ben says, leaning in to kiss me again. “He did. He knows how much I’ve missed you.”

I smile now, wishing he could know how much I’ve missed him. “You have?”

“More than you can possibly know, Evie,” Ben whispers and then he’s kissing me again and I know we’ve both been found.