My Big Fat Gay Life (51 page)

“No,” I said. “Please don’t.” Tears started to stream down my face, and my voice became whiny, high pitched.

“I don’t want to die,” I begged her. “Please don’t kill me.” I was crying so hard that mucus was flowing freely from my nostrils and my vision was blurred with tears. I could barely see as she inserted the syringe through the membrane and emptied its contents into my bloodstream.

“No!” I wailed. Patricia took a few tissues and wiped my face, almost tenderly. She was smiling, this time a smile of satisfaction.

“It will be over soon,” she said. She capped the empty syringe and placed it in her bag, then slung the bag over her shoulder and strode toward the door.

“This time, the syringe just contained saline,” she said over her shoulder as she opened the door. “There’s a medical transport leaving tomorrow at 3pm to take you to Ireland.”

After the door closed, I took some deep rasping breaths. Like Patricia, ice flowed in my veins. However, unlike Patricia, the ice in my veins was bred of fear. The ice in her veins was bred of determination, revenge, and fierce protection of her loved ones.

As I ran from Ruby Slippers, I grabbed my clothes in my hand and rummaged around in my pants pocket for my mobile phone. Once out in the street, I started walking briskly toward home without bothering to put on my clothes.

Opening my mobile, I quickly dialled my home number. No answer. Frantically, I ended the call and dialled Sebastian’s mobile, hoping that Ruth was with him. The call went to his voicemail.

“Sebastian!” I shouted into my mobile. “Where are you? You’ll never believe what’s happened! That fucking bastard, Arthur, the rapist… He’s been arrested! For multiple counts of rape! Call me as soon as you get this message. I’m heading home to tell Ruth. She’s probably turned down the ringer on the phone again.”

I terminated the call and continued rushing home. I was elated! Although I’d convinced myself over the past few months that I was over the rape, the news that he’d been caught and arrested had strengthened me, made me feel invulnerable. I felt as though I were running on air.

In my peripheral vision, I was vaguely aware of the stares my state of undress was attracting, but I couldn’t care less. I even snickered slightly as one elderly lady stared open-mouthed. She didn’t stop walking though, and she walked into a bollard.

Shortly I reached our apartment building. I flew up the stairs and flung open our front door, which was unlocked. She must be home.

“Ruth!” I called out, throwing my clothes onto the sofa. “Where are you?”

Not receiving an answer, I walked towards the bedroom, checking the kitchen on my way. She wasn’t in either room.

“Ruth? Honey?” I continued calling. “Are you home?”

Assuming she was having a shower, I opened the bathroom door. I stopped dead in my tracks, uncertain of what I was seeing. Confusion flooded my mind, and all thoughts of the rapist fled. Why was Ruth lying in a bath of red water? Why was she looking away?

“Honey?” I asked her, slowly approaching the tub. “Are you OK?”

When I reached the tub, I knelt down and stretched out my hand to stroke her hair. As I did, her head lolled toward me.

“NO!” I screamed, scurrying backwards on my heels. “NOOOO!”

Her eyes were open, but lifeless. She was pale: more pale than usual. My breath was rapid and shallow, and I felt on the verge of panic. This couldn’t be happening!

Slowly, cautiously, I crawled back to the tub. I felt her neck: she was cold, and there was no pulse. My mind clamoured with conflicting thoughts, and the din inside my head disabled me. Suddenly one thought rose higher in volume than all the others.

“Kyra!” I jumped to my feet and fled into the living room. “Baby girl! Where are you?”

Ohhh, my head. As consciousness dawned in my mind, the first thing that registered was the ache in my head. The second thing was the craving for something to make the pounding stop: something to silence the noise and pain. The ringing in my ears exacerbated the pain, and all I wanted to do was snort something, anything, to escape normality and achieve a blissful fugue state.

As full consciousness kicked in, I realised the ringing in my ears was actually my mobile phone. I slowly extended my arm, fumbling around for my mobile on the bedside table. Eventually my fingers wrapped around the phone, and I brought it to my ear.

“Hello,” I said hoarsely, answering the call.

“Hi Bastard!” Ruth’s chipper voice felt like a bolt of pain through my head. “I need to ask you a favour.”

“Sure. What is it?” I mumbled.

“Can you please look after Kyra for a while? I really need some alone time. I need a long hot soak before Kento’s party.”

Oh fuck! I’d totally forgotten about Kento’s farewell party tonight.

“What time is it?” I asked Ruth. My voice was starting to approach normal.

“Nearly 5pm,” she answered.

“No problem,” I told her. “I’ll come pick her up right away.”

“I don’t mind bringing her over,” Ruth offered.

Through the bedroom door I saw the debris and drug paraphernalia from last night’s party. I glanced at the nameless body lying next to me in bed.

“Nah it’s OK,” I said. “I could use a walk.”

After I disconnected the call, I kicked out at the body next to me.

“It’s time to go!” I said sternly.

* * *

I managed to collect Kyra from Ruth without incident. A little meth and a few Es had brought my mood up to something approaching normal before I left the apartment.

After I set up Kyra’s travel cot in my bedroom, I rummaged through her bag. Thank God! Disposable nappies. I hate those fucking cloth things that Ruth and Justin use. I placed Kyra in her cot and heated up a bottle of Ruth’s milk. After testing the temperature, I fed the baby girl, burped her, and placed her down for a nap. She was asleep within seconds.

I made my way to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, after sweeping the mess onto the floor. A few pills were swept onto the floor with the mess, and I picked one up. Curious as to what it was, I popped it into my mouth. Before long, a dark cloud of sleep descended and I’d joined the baby in dreamland.

* * *

Awake! Again! This was becoming a nasty habit. My head felt as though it was clamped in a vice, and I scrambled around the drug paraphernalia for something to ease the tightness.

There was something I had to do: I knew that much. Once I’d found something to kick-start my brain, it would come back to me. My hand fell onto a drug kit, and when I looked inside I realised that last night’s play-date had left his smack kit behind. Opening it up, I saw the syringe, tourniquet, spoon, lighter, and the little bag of brown powder it contained.

Why not!
I thought.
I’ve tried everything else
. I’d resisted last night when he offered me some, but it was damn appealing right now.

There was a noise, but I blocked it out. I couldn’t let the neighbour’s kid distract me. I cooked the H, sucked it up into the syringe, and tied the tourniquet around my arm. It took a few attempts, but I finally managed to insert the syringe into a vein.

The crying baby grew louder, and I struggled to block it from my mind. As the warmth spread through my body, I released the tourniquet. The syringe fell from my hand and onto the carpet.

The crying was loud, however, as the grey bliss spread throughout my body, the crying became increasingly muffled. Eventually the grey overcame everything, and I could no longer hear or see anything.

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