but doesn’t turn to face me. He continues to pull on his shoes with exaggerated coolness. When he speaks, he doesn’t look me in the eye.
“Let me guess. You’re here to tell me that it’s my fault and you wish I had stayed dead.”
“Something like that, yes.”
He coughs out a laugh. “You’re not the only one. But please, go ahead. Get it out of your system.”
God, I hate him. “How can you sit there and act like it’s no big deal? You fucked up my life, all our lives.” The words are bitter in my mouth; the act of talking to James sickens me.
He takes his time to look at me. There’s a hint of sadness there, but mostly defiance. How dare that little prick feel anything for her? I want to kick those sarcastic teeth into the back of his skull.
He pulls on a black leather jacket, the kind the bad guys always wear in movies, one arm at a time.
“I’m sorry she died, Damian. I really am. If it makes you feel better, you can do whatever you want to me. Punch me, kick me, whatever. I won’t stop you.”
It’s funny, really, how he continues the bad-boy act like it’s some sort of protective coating.
My body starts to shake. A laugh is working its way up my throat.
My reaction is clearly not what he expected and it deflates him. The defiant look disappears. His eyes search the room, but the other beds are empty. We’re alone. Good. I want him to be scared.
“She was everything to me, you know. No, you wouldn’t know what I’m talking about. You’re the type who only plays with girls. She wasn’t just some crush. She was my whole fucking world.”
I’m not talking to him, but to myself. He seems to have realised this. His face has gone white, and he’s watching me carefully, keeping his distance.
I brush my fingers through my hair. My body has stopped shaking, and I can feel my strength slowly returning. My face starts to hurt. It’s because I’m smiling. He was right in a way. It feels good to get it all out of my system.
“Do you think I liked hanging out with you guys or going to those stupid trance parties? I did it for her. I’d do anything for her. I don’t have a reason to be alive without her. Do you understand that?”
He doesn’t answer, but continues to stare at me, waiting for me to finish. He’s trying to guess my intentions. Let me make it easy for him.
“She drowned because of you. That’s why I’m here. I’ve got nothing to lose. You know that, right?”
Without saying a word, James slides off the bed and stands to face me. I haven’t known the guy that long. I don’t know if he’s a coward or a fighter, but it doesn’t matter. There’s no way I’m letting him walk out this room.
I enter the room and slam the door behind me.
He steps forward. “Whatever you’re planning to do, I just want you to know …”
My first punch finishes his sentence for him. I don’t stop, but continue to pound my fists into his flesh. His body shrinks into a ball to try and defend itself, but I don’t stop.
I don’t want to hear his excuses. I don’t want to give him the chance to tell me that hurting him won’t bring her back. All I want is to finish the job the train failed to do. I don’t stop even when he’s on the ground, but let my feet continue when my arms get too tired. He’s nothing but a punching bag to me.
I ignore the pathetic sounds he makes when I kick him in the ribs. I need him to die. I lose myself in a red rage.
The door opens and strong arms grab me from behind.
“Wat gaan hier aan?” What’s going on here?
An unearthly roar, like it’s coming from a beast inside me, escape my mouth.
Nursing staff hurry into the room to tend to James. I kick out at them. “Leave him alone!” I bellow. “He’s a fucking murderer.”
I’m thrown into the passage. My first instinct is to run back inside to finish what I started, but two men in blue cleaners’ uniforms hold me back.
“You’re going to kill him,” one of them says.
“I don’t care, let me go!”
With the help of the nurses, James is lifted back to the bed. He holds his hands to his broken nose and blood streams through his fingers onto the green tiled floor. The pool of blood makes me feel like I’m back in the dream. The pale-green walls shimmer like water around me. Is Demi trying to tell me something?
James is shaking his head to one of the nurse’s questions. They look at me crossly. What is he telling them?
“Don’t listen to him. He’s a murderer!” I scream.
No one listens. The base of my skull has started to throb. Sweat forms a thick layer on my skin.
James looks at me over his hand. “You think you’re the only one who lost everything, Damian, but you’re wrong.”
How dare he! I shout until the skin of my throat rips. I don’t even know what I’m shouting. I just want him to know that he’s wrong. He has no right to be upset. Rough hands pull me away.
MY CAPTORS carry me down the dimly lit passage. My shoes drag behind me, followed by a nurse. I can hear her square-toed shoes clip-clopping on the tiles.
I’m sweating like crazy and the shimmering hasn’t gone away. The dream is closer now, I can feel it.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask the man to my left. The badge on his overalls identifies him as Barry.
“We’re almost there, don’t worry. The nurse will sort you out.”
I’m led into a small room that smells like mould. The men hold me down on the bare mattress, while the nurse secures my wrists to the metal rails on the side of the bed.
“What are you doing? Stop it!”
I kick with my legs, but they’ve all moved out of reach. Sweat from my forehead is dripping into my eyes, making everything blurry.
The nurse stands over me, her hand on my forehead. The moisture in my eyes and the light shining above my head makes it impossible to see her face. She’s just a dark smudge.
“We’re going to give you a sedative to calm you down,” she says.
“Don’t touch me,” I say, trying to wriggle my head out of her grasp.
She rubs a swab on the inside of my arm and without hesitation inserts a long needle into my skin. It doesn’t hurt, but the sight of it makes me queasy. When she’s done, she drops the needle into a red biohazard bin and starts walking away.
“Hey, where are you going? You can’t just keep me here. I didn’t do anything wrong. He’s
