Chapter 25

 Chapter 25 (No missing chapter. I extended chapter 23 and split it into two.)

Alice stirred, sensing a presence in her room before she opened her eyes. She sat up, terrified, and adjusted to the darkness. The mattress dipped beside her, and a warm hand cupped her cheek.

‘It’s okay, baby. It’s me.’

Mick sat on the edge of her bed. ‘Watch your eyes.’ He leaned over and turned her lamp on, staring at her. His face was drawn and weary, his red-rimmed eyes swimming with grief as he looked at her. ‘I’ve missed you,’ he said. He looked like a man, unravelling at the seams.

Her first thought was that she was dreaming. Alice touched his arm, but not affectionately—just to check that he was real. She was confused. ‘What are you doing here?’ Her body was sluggish with the residue of a bad dream in her mind. She was disoriented by the intrusion into her space, where people—even Mick—should only come if invited. After nearly two weeks of silence, her emotions tumbled from fear to confusion to anger—until she remembered how much she’d missed him. He was in her room, on her bed, and she remembered his beautiful face. She flung herself into his arms.

He held her close before moving her away to look at her. ‘I drove straight here from Scotland. I didn’t know where else to go.’

Alice pushed herself upright, scanning his face. He was pale with dark circles under his eyes and his long hair was a mess, giving the impression that it hadn’t been brushed in days. His jeans and hoodie were creased, as if he hadn’t stopped for breath since leaving his parents’ house. She saw tears form in his eyes.

‘Mick. What’s wrong?’

 He ran his hand through dishevelled hair.

‘Dad’s gone.’ His voice cracked. ‘It doesn’t make sense.’

Alice’s heart clenched and she grabbed his hand. ‘What do you mean, gone?’ She already knew.

‘He’s dead.’

‘I’m so sorry. What happened?’

He rubbed his face with both hands, shaking his head and reliving the nightmare as he found the right words. ‘It’s so stupid. He went into hospital yesterday. It wasn’t life-threatening, just a stupid, treatable ulcer. None of this makes sense.’

‘If it ruptured though.’

‘That’s just it. They did the helicobacter test, diagnosed it and put him on medication. He was improving and they sent him home. He was supposed to be fine. But then it ruptured. Out of nowhere.’

His face twisted in horror. ‘Jesus, Alice, I’ve never seen anything like it. They released him after a few hours of observation. That night, we had dinner and watched the football. He was laughing.’ A tear rolled down Mick’s cheek and Alice wiped it away.

She stroked his hand, remembering happy times with Mick’s family. But she didn’t say anything to make it about her. He needed to talk.

‘One minute he was laughing at some soft remark I made, and then he leaned forward puking blood. I’ve never seen so much of it. It kept coming, thick and black, purging out of his mouth in torrents as if we were in a horror movie. It splattered over his clothes. His hands were covered in it. He kept wiping it away as if cleaning himself could make it stop. He looked confused and then scared. When it wouldn’t stop, his eyes begged me for help, but I froze and just stood there. Dad kept heaving. It flooded out of him and I didn’t know what to do. Mum was hysterical. It was a bloodbath. There was so much gore all over the lounge floor and the furniture. It had clots—lumps that looked like bits of his lungs. Mum and I were covered. I wanted to go to him, but something stopped me. It was like a metal band across me, holding me back. I felt it break. And as I came to, I tried to help him. I’ll never forget it. I was there, Alice. I saw it all.’

His hands balled into fists. ‘His fear was terrible—he looked at me and knew he was dying. He clutched my hands and, without being able to speak, he begged me to help him. It felt unnatural. Then he collapsed.’ Mick squeezed his eyes shut. ‘The first responders tried to help him. They did. But he was gone before they could get him in the ambulance.’

Alice felt sick. It was the book.

She knew without any doubt that it did this. It reached into Mick’s life and snatched his dad away to punish her.

‘The book,’ She said, clamping her hand over her mouth. It wasn’t the time. Mick was too distraught to listen.

Her throat felt tight. She knew better than to say more. He’d come to her, begging her to comfort him. She should keep her mouth shut or lose him again, but she couldn’t. She hesitated, battling the words, but only for a second. ‘It was the book, Mick. I know it was.’

He recoiled as though she’d slapped him. But he didn’t speak. He looked into her face, taking in what she said. He looked for answers in her expression, but she had little to give him. This time, he didn’t shout or scoff. He stared at her without rolling his eyes or dismissing her as paranoid. He just looked, searching her face, his breathing elevated, and then his face crumpled and his body diminished to fold in on himself. He reminded her of Thomas in the act of transition.

‘I know,’ he said. He reached for her hand, clutching it so tight it hurt. ‘But I need to be sure. How confident are you?’

‘A hundred per cent. I know how it works. It divides and separates, targeting anybody close to me.’

He nodded. ‘I believe you.’

‘You do?’

He gave her a broken laugh. ‘You didn’t see it. And it’s not just my dad, there were other things, strange things that couldn’t be real. Nothing makes sense anymore. I should’ve listened to you sooner.’

Silence flapped between them like a shroud in a breeze. He reached for her. His fingers trembled, but he traced her face like a blind man—remembering her. She covered his hands with hers, they were stone cold. She gave him her warmth and felt the desperation in his touch.

‘Don’t talk. Not now. I need to hold you, Alice.’

Their lips met, the taste of salted tears and grief between them. Mick held her as if she was the only grounding in his world. And he was her solid reality. He pulled her close, anchoring himself in her.

Alice whispered reassurances, her lips tracing over his pain. She let her hands roam, running them down his back as he buried his grief in her neck. He was rough and tender, the mass of sorrow making his need frantic.

They moved together in the muted light, their gasps escaping between them with longing. Mick kissed her hard, tethering him to reality. And Alice let him, meeting him and giving him what he needed. He’d never been brutal before, but his sex came with an urgency that she understood.

After making love, they lay with Mick’s head resting against her chest. His fingers traced absent-minded patterns along her arm. The silence between them was as packed as an autumn tree with too much fruit, the unspoken words about the future hanging, ready to drop.

Alice didn’t want to move and lay stroking him until she heard his stomach rumble. He must have been starving. She kissed his temple. ‘I’ll get us some coffee and make you something to eat.’

He murmured in response, his voice too soft to catch as she slipped out of bed, pulling on his discarded shirt. She put a frozen lasagne for one into the oven and smelt him on her as she made coffee smiling like a fool. She touched the tender place on her breast where his mouth had been minutes before. She felt happy for the first time in months. They’d work it out. With Mick there, the book wasn’t as ominous and had lost some of its hold. She felt it. It would be okay now.

Balancing two mugs, she climbed the stairs, already speaking as she pushed open the bedroom door. ‘If you’ve fallen asleep, I won’t be happy, it’s cold down there.’

She froze.

The bed was empty.

Her sheets were rumpled, the blankets askew—but there was no Mick. Not a trace of him, apart from the shirt she had on and the slight mark of his passion on her breast.

Her heart pounded. The air in the room felt colder from something she couldn’t name. She put the mugs down.

‘Mick?’ Her voice croaked as though she hadn’t spoken during the previous hour.

There was no reply.

Her hands trembled. She touched the bed where his body should have been, but it was cold, only her side had a residual warmth.

There was no lingering heat, no wet patch on the sheet or indent in the pillow. Only the shirt on her back made his visit real. She pushed away the voice in her head. A shirt you could have taken from the wardrobe? She felt the tears roll but didn’t bother wiping them away. She was insane. She must be.

She remembered his touch, her orgasm, the way he’d cried out during his.

But Mick had never been there.

The sun wouldn’t rise for another three hours but Alice picked up her phone. Her hands shook as she dialled his number. She couldn’t rest. The words from his visit rattled around in her head. She had to warn him.

The line rang four times, and then Mick answered, hoarse but warm, like the familiar morning sun filtering through her curtains.

‘Hello? He sounded groggy.

‘Mick, it’s Alice. You have to listen.’ She rushed on in case he hung up on her. ‘How’s your dad?’

‘Eh? Alice? What is this?’

‘Your dad, Mick. Is he okay?’

‘No. He’s got a bellyache. Your concern at five in the morning is noted, but we’re okay for paracetamol, thanks.’

‘Something’s wrong. I saw it.’

‘Alice, I’m not up for this. You need to see that this is not okay. I’m hanging up now.’

‘You need to get him to hospital now. He’s going to die if you don’t.’

‘You’re delusional.’ But his tone shifted from disbelief to something else. She heard a hitch in his voice. ‘What are you on about? My dad’s fine.’

She felt his scepticism in the way he tried to brush her off. But he hadn’t hung up yet. She couldn’t stop now.

‘You have to get to him. He’s not just unwell— he’s going to die.’ Her voice faltered as her panic surged. ‘It’s an ulcer. The hospital will treat it, but it went too long and it’s about to rupture. You have to get help before it’s too late. The book, Mick. It’s all connected.’

Mick sighed, cutting her off. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but you’re imagining things. My dad’s had a stomach bug, that’s all. I’ve only come this weekend because they’re having a new range delivered. I came to help move it. There’s nothing to freak out about.’

His words cut through her, but Alice didn’t back down. She went in hard. ‘If he’s okay, great. But if he dies in the next few hours, and you didn’t check on him, Mick, that’s his blood on your hands. You’ll never forgive yourself.’

Mick’s voice wavered and a thread of concern slipped through his doubt. ‘I’m not charging into their bedroom like a maniac because you’ve had a bad dream.’

‘Do it for me. Please.’  

‘I know what this is about and I’ve missed you too. But you need to focus on getting better. You’re not seeing things clearly. I can’t stand to hear you like this.’

Alice felt her chest tighten from his dismissal. ‘I’m not mad. It’s all true,’ she said. She hated herself for sobbing.

‘I’ll talk to you later, okay?’

‘No. don’t you dare hang up on me.’

‘I’ll ring you later. Get some rest. Just take care of yourself. I can’t help you if you don’t trust me, Alice.’

‘No. You need to trust me.’

She was frozen, their connection felt as distant as the milage. An ocean stretched between them.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. His voice was soft but resolute. ‘I can’t see you. Not like this.’

‘I don’t give a shit about you at the moment. This isn’t about us. Check on your father. Now.’

‘Okay, Alice. I’ll do it. I can’t sleep after this, anyway. But I’m going now.’ 

She breathed in relief as she heard him fling his duvet back and scramble into his clothes.

He hung up on her.

 

I write under the pen name Katherine Black and I have 17 books published. All on Kindle Unlimited. I’d love it if you’d try one.

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