‹ Prequel: Warmness on the Soul
The Way You Look Tonight
Gone
“Grace? Grace you ok, hun?” Gena asked her. Grace hadn’t left the house since falling out with Brian, hell, she’d hardly even moved. She hadn’t realised she was moving until Gena picked up the phone on the other end of the line. She didn’t even remember plugging it back into the wall. Depression wasn’t the word.
Grace was heartbroken.
The one man she loved, the one man she trusted more than anything, had betrayed her. Had left her to fend for herself, when she needed him most. This wasn’t all her mess.
He’d been round to the house, sure, probably to make sure she stayed quiet.
So she had done, unplugging the phone and locking all the doors and windows. She needed to be alone. Being alone was the only way she could figure out what she wanted to do about thei- her baby. As far as Grace was concerned, Brian had lost the right to call himself an expectant father. He wasn’t fit to.
Gena and Val helped her up, “I’ve ran you a nice, warm bath Gracie. Go soak and relax, we’ll make something for us to eat.” Val smiled, guiding her to the door.
Val even escorted her upstairs, “Probably to make sure I’m not going to top myself,” Grace thought, bitterly. Surely, however, if she had been planning on ending it all, ending the pain, she would have already? She’d had long enough, and even though she was ashamed to admit it, Grace had thought about it. Thought about taking the easy way out.
And then she thought about the life growing inside of her, that it didn’t deserve that. Her baby deserved whatever life she could offer it.
If she truly believed that, then why was it that every time she walked into her bathroom, the razor seemed to call out to her? Why was it, that she picked it up every time?
Much like the many times before, the bathroom cabinet seemed to call her over, guide her to where she’d hidden the blade for her own safety, but this time, she didn’t put it down. The shiny metal seemed to mesmerise her, pull her in like a fishing line, and she was hooked.
Then the door rang, pulling her out of her stupor. It was a man’s voice, a voice she’d only heard through her letterbox. It was Brian.
In her shock, the razor blade dropped to the sink and she jumped back.
“What am I doing?” Grace shouted at herself a little too loud.
“Grace? Gracie! Val, let me in! I have to talk to her!” he sounded almost hysterical, but Grace was cold, and empty. Her usual, calm, caring demeanour was gone.
Grace was heartbroken.
The one man she loved, the one man she trusted more than anything, had betrayed her. Had left her to fend for herself, when she needed him most. This wasn’t all her mess.
He’d been round to the house, sure, probably to make sure she stayed quiet.
So she had done, unplugging the phone and locking all the doors and windows. She needed to be alone. Being alone was the only way she could figure out what she wanted to do about thei- her baby. As far as Grace was concerned, Brian had lost the right to call himself an expectant father. He wasn’t fit to.
Gena and Val helped her up, “I’ve ran you a nice, warm bath Gracie. Go soak and relax, we’ll make something for us to eat.” Val smiled, guiding her to the door.
Val even escorted her upstairs, “Probably to make sure I’m not going to top myself,” Grace thought, bitterly. Surely, however, if she had been planning on ending it all, ending the pain, she would have already? She’d had long enough, and even though she was ashamed to admit it, Grace had thought about it. Thought about taking the easy way out.
And then she thought about the life growing inside of her, that it didn’t deserve that. Her baby deserved whatever life she could offer it.
If she truly believed that, then why was it that every time she walked into her bathroom, the razor seemed to call out to her? Why was it, that she picked it up every time?
Much like the many times before, the bathroom cabinet seemed to call her over, guide her to where she’d hidden the blade for her own safety, but this time, she didn’t put it down. The shiny metal seemed to mesmerise her, pull her in like a fishing line, and she was hooked.
Then the door rang, pulling her out of her stupor. It was a man’s voice, a voice she’d only heard through her letterbox. It was Brian.
In her shock, the razor blade dropped to the sink and she jumped back.
“What am I doing?” Grace shouted at herself a little too loud.
“Grace? Gracie! Val, let me in! I have to talk to her!” he sounded almost hysterical, but Grace was cold, and empty. Her usual, calm, caring demeanour was gone.