Losing Me Finding You Read online

  “Get up you lazy bitch,” he says, spit flying out of his mouth. “Go and get me some cigarettes, now.”

  I’m nodding, desperate for any excuse to get out of this house and when he lets go of me, I immediately run out of the room, down the stairs and out the front door, not even caring that I’m still in my pajamas.

  “Shit,” I say, my hands on my head as I now stand in our snow-covered front yard, with no shoes on, freezing my arse off. Looking around at the neighbourhood I live in, I see that our house is one of many run-down houses on this street. Nearly all of them have boarded up windows, broken fences, and parts of the front porch or house are broken or missing. The house across the street even has a burnt out car in its front yard.

  As the tears start to fall silently down my cheeks, I realise not only have my parents failed to notice today is my birthday, but this feels like the worst thing I’ve ever woken up to.

  Have I always lived here?

  “Evie?” I hear a girl say.

  As I look up, I see the front door of a house across the street close and a girl about my age standing there.

  “What the hell are you doing, Evie, it’s bloody freezing!” she says, standing on her front step in jeans, a hoodie, and a coat. I shrug, not sure how much she knows or I’m prepared to explain right now. “Your mum and dad again?” she asks and I sag in relief, glad she seems to know the whole story.

  “Yeah,” I say, wrapping my arms around me as I notice for the first time just how cold I am. I only have socks on my feet, which are now soaking wet and turning numb.

  “Come on,” she says, gesturing for me to cross the street and come inside her house. “You can borrow some of my clothes.”

  I smile, grateful for what appears to be a friend. I cross the street and jog up her front path and when I step inside her house, I see it’s actually not that much different to mine. Except there’s no yelling here.

  “Mum,” this girl suddenly calls out, causing me to flinch. “Where’d you put my black boots?”

  Foot steps sound from the back of the house and then there is a woman standing in front of us. She’s smiling and looks friendly, but today I’m not taking any chances.

  “Sarah, they are where you left them, please don’t tell me you’ve lost them because I can’t afford to get you a new pair,” she says and I’m guessing Sarah is my friend and this woman in front of us is her mum. “Hello, Evie,” she adds on, smiling at me now. “You alright?”

  I nod, not really sure how to answer as I try smiling back at her.

  “And where did I leave them then?” Sarah asks, grabbing a coat off the hook by the front door and handing it to me. “Here, you can borrow Mum’s,” she says to me.

  “What are you doing outside in your pajamas, Evie?” Sarah’s mum asks me as though she’s only just realised what I’m wearing.

  I shrug. Sarah might know about my parents, but it doesn’t mean her mum does.

  “Her stupid arsehole parents,” Sarah says. Okay, apparently everybody knows about them.

  “Oh, shit,” her mum says, taking a step closer. I step backwards, not sure what she’s going to do. “It’s okay, Evie,” she says, holding her hands up as if to show me she isn’t going to do anything. “You poor thing, do you want a cup of tea?”

  I nod, needing something to warm me up.

  Sarah’s mum smiles at me now and it looks so genuine and kind, it almost makes me want to cry. “Come on then, let’s get you one,” she says, turning and walking down the hall to what I guess is the kitchen at the back. “And get her some socks too, Sarah,” she calls back as I silently follow after her.

  “Hey, Evie,” Sarah says, grabbing some socks from the basket of laundry that sits at the bottom of stairs before falling in step beside me. “Happy birthday.”

  And now it takes everything I have in me not to cry. Because even though I’ve found a friend, a friend who might turn out to be the only good thing I have right now, I can’t help feeling like it’s not quite enough.

  10th May 1992

  Sixteen years old

  I’ve been home from school for two hours and there’s still no sign of my parents. I haven’t eaten all day and my stomach rumbles as if to remind me. I search through the kitchen cupboards, knowing full well that food of any description will not have materialised since the last time I looked. I wonder if maybe I shouldn’t go looking for some money instead.

  Although there’s fat chance any of that will be lying around. Any money that miraculously finds its way into this house is immediately shot into veins, poured down throats, or set on fire and smoked. It’s a wonder I’ve managed to survive this long, because there sure as shit isn’t ever any food in this house. The one meal a day I get at school is currently my only diet. But today, I didn’t even have that.

  A knock at the door surprises me. I’m not expecting anyone, but when I open it, I see Sarah standing on the other side.

  “Hey,” she says, smiling as she glances behind me. “You home alone?”

  I nod. “Yeah, haven’t seen them since yesterday,” I tell her. “I’ve got no idea where they are.”

  “Fuck, are you okay?” she asks, stepping inside.

  I shrug. “I’m okay,” I tell her, even though I’m not. Being home alone today is more than just being alone. There’s an ache of loneliness that’s settled over me. A feeling of missing something, something so important that I can’t even begin to describe what it feels like. All I know is that it’s more than just having absent, uncaring parents.

  “You want to go do something?” Sarah asks, following me into the laughable kitchen.

  “Like what?”

  “Dunno,” she says, hopping up on the kitchen counter. “We could go over to Jason’s, I think he’s having some people over tonight.”

  Jason is Sarah’s sometime boyfriend. I say sometime because it’s really only when it suits him. He’s a nice guy and he and Sarah are good together, but he has commitment issues and there are times when I wish she’d just drop him for good and find someone who actually deserves her.

  “I’m sure there will be food there too,” Sarah says, and when I glance up, she’s looking around the empty kitchen. “Come on, Evie,” she says, her voice softer now. “I know you must be starving.”

  I bite my lip; try to stop myself from crying. I am starving, but it’s so much more than that because it’s not just food I’m starving for. As much as Sarah is a friend, a really good friend, I still can’t explain to her, let alone understand, where all these feelings are coming from.

  I’m starving for something, but I have no idea what it is.

  “Evie?” she says, jumping off the counter and walking towards me. I shrug, trying to act like none of this matters. I don’t want sympathy; I just want to understand why I feel so lost. “Do you want to go?” she asks.

  I shake my head, knowing I don’t want to be surrounded by other people tonight. Crowds don’t ease the loneliness, they only make it worse. To be surrounded by people who don’t understand, who barely even notice enough to care, only makes me feel even more alone than I already am.

  “Want to come to my house instead?” she asks, sliding her arm through mine. Sarah somehow gets it though and when I nod, she smiles and says, “Come on, I think Mum’s made her famous spaghetti.”

  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 s
tar 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.”