If
this plan doesn’t work,
Going
down, down, down, down, down.
Got
a grade to know,
As
I take that step,
This is it, my one last chance…”
Trees and fields flashed past the window Chloe was staring blankly out of. Muted landscapes, with nothing to say for themselves. They were a constant; they never went away, and where they changed, it was an innocent change; a child-like change from green to brown, from brown to red; wild to tame. They had no thoughts or emotions; no urges of passion or anger to succumb to: nothing to do, nothing to feel. They were, in effect, nothing, but content with being so, and the job they were pre-destined to do. Just peacefully getting on with it while everyone took them for granted. No resentment, no desires, no opinion at all.
Chloe wished she was a tree. She’d stand there all day – alone, or surrounded by similar equals – not thinking, not feeling, not wanting. Birds would come and go, as would her leaves and, if she was lucky, the spring would bring colourful blossom to her branches, exchanging it for ripe, juicy fruit when summer came. But if she wasn’t lucky, she wouldn’t care, because she’d have something else, and she’d accept that she was what she was, and wouldn’t try to stray from her given path. If she was a Fir tree, she wouldn’t try to be an Oak; if she was a Silver Birch, she wouldn’t wish to be an Elm. She’d just be a simple act of nature, playing by the pre-written rules, doing what she did best: no crime, no punishment.
The whole journey so far, Chloe had been thinking random, abstract thoughts. Disconnected, ugly thoughts. She couldn’t stop thinking, and although she’d been praying for sudden amnesia, she could still remember every single detail of the ordeal that was still on-going. She could remember the cold look in Mark’s eyes as he forced her down onto the bed; the way he’d pinched the skin on her wrists so hard that he’d left small purple bruises; the simple, repetitive tune of the music that had drowned out her screams. The tears were there, burning at the back of Chloe’s eyes, but she was keeping them in. It was practice, in a way, for the way she’d be keeping everything to herself from now on. After everything she’d been through, everything she knew and everything she couldn’t ever tell anyone, Chloe couldn’t see any way forward. If she had to face up to things, attempt to get over it, move on, she knew she wouldn’t be able to cope, but if she could suspend time, suspend her life, cut herself off from everyone and everything, she could exist for as long as she needed to in her paused bubble. She had to block it out, keep it hidden at the back of her mind, cover it with a impermeable curtain: it was the only was she’d be able to survive this. She felt totally numb as it was; like she’d gone onto autopilot and wasn’t thinking about the everyday things she was doing, like walking and opening doors, she was just doing it. Well of course she wasn’t thinking about such trivial and meaningless things – all her thoughts were being consumed by that. That thing that was slowly eating away at everything she was and everything she stood for. She kept looking at all the people around her – normal people, just like she used to be – who had no idea of the emotional turmoil she was experiencing. They were just wandering around; they had no idea. A bit like Ben, then.
If anything was going to bring on the tears, it would be the thought of Ben. Chloe never thought it would end like this, and she couldn’t believe it had. He wouldn’t understand, she knew he wouldn’t, but it really was for his own good. It’d save him in the long run, and it’d save her: what was left of her. It was better for both of them if they just stopped contact. Better than slowly phasing it out. That way, Chloe could be on her own, and Ben would get over her quicker. He’d get over her much quicker if he knew what she’d done, but she didn’t want to part on bad terms. She didn’t want him to hate her – she was taking care of that enough already. She hated herself, and she hated Mark. He’d taken everything away from her, but self-pity was a luxury when you were as much in the wrong as Chloe was, so there was no point in thinking that way. If she gave into such emotions, then she’d start to expect the same – sympathy, empathy, compassion – from other people, and she wasn’t going to get it. Not after what she’d done, and certainly not from Ben. So she really didn’t have any choice but to disappear out of his, and everyone’s lives, once and for all. If she never talked to Ben – never talked to anyone – again, she’d never have to tell him what had happened, and why it had happened, and so he couldn’t think badly of her. If she left him with only happy memories, then she wouldn’t taint his life by being so disgustingly dirty. He’d be okay: she knew he would. He had so much going for him; he was permanently surrounded by people who adored him; it wouldn’t take him long to get on with his life, and leave Chloe to get on with not getting on with hers. She was convinced: she was doing the right thing.
“…and everything’s shattered,
Everything’s falling apart.
My life’s in tatters,
Burning a piece in my heart.
But nothing else matters,
Oh no…”
Ben’s phone was ringing.
It wasn’t Chloe.
He wasn’t answering it.
For the last hour, he’d been sitting in the same place on the floor with his back against the sofa. He felt all over – he was sure he wouldn’t be able to stand up, even if he did want to.
Which he didn’t.
He wanted to sit here until Chloe came back. And if that took 10 years, that was how long he’d sit there.
In all honesty, he didn’t know what to do. He’d tried phoning Chloe, and he couldn’t get through; couldn’t even leave a message, so he didn’t know what else he could do! He didn’t know where she’d gone, didn’t know why she’d gone… He didn’t even know when she’d gone, although it must have been some time in the last couple of hours. Ben wondered how long she’d been planning it for: days, weeks, months? What had been the catalyst for her leaving? What had Ben done that was the last straw? When was the point that she’d had enough? Why couldn’t they have had a big argument, got it all out in the open, and then sorted it out? Why had Ben felt that she couldn’t talk to Ben about what was on her mind? Why had she left without so much as a note?
WHERE HAD IT ALL GONE WRONG?
Ben could spend the rest of his life asking questions: What did he do now? Where did he go from here? How could he put things right? Could he put things right? Ben could spend the rest of his life looking for answers: yes, no, maybe. Ben could spend the rest of his life listening to his damn phone ringing incessantly.
“What?" he snapped, picking the phone up and answering it.
“You alright, mate?” Paul asked, sounding taken aback,
“Why did you have to keep ringing? Ringing and ringing and ringing and it’s DOING MY HEAD IN!” Ben shouted.
“What?” Paul asked.
Ben sighed to himself. “But of course she’s left me. Of courrrrrrrse!”
“Er… Ben? You feeling alright?”
“Noooooo.” Ben laughed ironically. “No, coz if I was, I wouldn’t be here! Here, on the floor! And it’s not comfortable, ohhh no. Hard. And cold. And my legs hurt. But it doesn’t help.” He said, welcoming the delirium brought on by his world falling apart around him.
“Are you drunk?” Paul asked uncertainly.
“I should be. I will be! If the floor would stop dragging me down. Down and down and down…”
“Have you been taking drugs?”
“She’s left me, Paul!” Ben shouted suddenly.
“Wh- Chloe?”
Ben nodded. “She’s left me.” He said quietly, starting to cry.
…If a man is a sign of all that he’s done,
Then I’m nothing much today.
And if it’s true what they say,
And you are what you eat,
“Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?” Mark muttered to himself as he sat against the wall, banging his head rhythmically and steadily against the hard, cold, surface. He was going to do it until he knew why he’s done what he’d done – he couldn’t bear to say the word – to Chloe. He was going to decide why he’d done it, and then kill himself. He didn’t want to wait and see whether he ended up in prison, or how Ben found out; he definitely didn’t want to carry around the biggest and darkest secret of his life indefinitely. He knew he could never tell anyone, never ever ever – it wasn’t the kind of thing you admitted during a game of Truth or Dare, was it? Hardly like, ‘Yes, I did accidentally suffocate the class hamster in Year 2’. – and Mark felt so burdened and so alone. Oh, don’t worry, he knew there was no sympathy to be had, and he should suffer as much as possible for his actions. That was why ending his life was the only option. He’d thought about it seriously – he’d thought of nothing else – and it really was the best thing for everyone. For one, he couldn’t stand the guilt – it was eating him up inside already – and he’d totally ruined his own life forever, so what was the point in carrying on when he’d thrown away everything he’d had going for him? Why prolong the agony? Even if he didn’t go to prison, when his terrible secret got out – even if it was only within the “a1 circle” – he’d lose three of his closest and most valued friends, and the job he loved. He’d hurt Ben, and make Paul and Christian choose between them, and he knew for certain who they’d choose. Hmmm, the rapist, or the victim’s boyfriend? Ooh, tough one. And his wasn’t the only life he’d ruined. He’d already hurt Chloe enough – the least he could do was to get out of her life forever.
Mark didn’t know yet how he was going to kill himself, but before he did it, for his own piece of mind, he needed to understand why he’d gone so far. And at the moment, he just didn’t know, so maybe he’d be living in hell for a good couple of days yet. Ah well, good practice…
There was a knock on Mark’s bedroom door and as he looked up, Paul burst in.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
“What?” Mark asked, the throbbing in the back of his head becoming stronger.
“Where’s Chloe?” Paul asked, looking like he meant serious business.
Mark was absolutely gobsmacked. How did Paul know about Chloe? And why wasn’t he bashing Mark’s head against the wall if he knew what had happened?
“W-what?” I-I-I don’t know.” Mark stammered, standing up, back still against the wall.
“Is she here?” Paul asked, coming towards Mark.
“N-no!” Mark exclaimed.
“Where is she, then?”
“I don’t know” Mark said again.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
Mark shook his head. “I don’t know where she is.”
Paul frowned. “I thought she’d be with you.” He said.
Mark frowned as well. “W-why would she be with me?” he asked cautiously.
“Because Ben said… oh, I’m got totally the wrong end of the stick, haven’t I? Oh yeah, nice one, Paul.” He said.
“Ben said what?” Mark asked urgently.
Ben knew as well?! Had everyone been taking calm pills?!
“Chloe’s left Ben.” Paul said. “I guess I thought she’d be with you.”
“Oh.” Mark said relief pounding painfully through his veins.
If he didn’t kill first, the hearty attack he’d be having from all the secrets and lies would finish him off.
“Sorry mate, I shouldn’t have assumed.” Paul apologised. “Ben’s totally distraught; no-one knows where Chloe is.”
Mark’s eyes widened in concern. “What?”
Paul shrugged. “She’s disappeared – taken all her stuff, and everything.”
“Well… what… when?” Mark spluttered.
“I dunno. I’ve just come from Ben’s couldn’t get much out of him, but she’s definitely gone. I think I’d rather she was with you than not knowing where she is.” Paul said.
Ohhh, I don’t think so, Mark thought. Not if you knew the kinda person I am.
Although, now he was really worried about Chloe. He couldn’t believe she’d left Ben. He didn’t know what he thought she’d do, but he definitely wasn’t expecting that. Poor Ben! So that was another person’s misery he was responsible for. Ohh God, he felt so incredibly guilty. He wished Paul had been just that little bit more angry when he’d burst into his room – if he’d have killed him then it would have saved Mark the trouble. He couldn’t cope with this feeling – he just wanted it all to go away. He wanted to be able to say, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” and for it to be all okay. But he knew there was only one way out of this. Not until he knew Chloe was safe, though. He couldn’t leave her for good without knowing she was okay.
“…and everything’s shattered,
Everything’s falling apart.
My life’s in tatters,
Burning a piece in my heart.
But nothing else matters,
Oh no…”
Chloe shut the door of her flat quietly and locked it behind her, putting her keys on the side. She carried her bag through the kitchen, across the sitting room, and into her bedroom, leaving all the curtains closed. She out her bag on the neatly made double bed and flicked a lamp on. With the soft light illuminating the room, Chloe unzipped the dark blue holdall and started to remove items from the inside, separating everything carefully into two piles, until the bag was empty. After kneeling down and pushing the empty bag under the bed, Chloe started to take things from the larger pile and put them in drawers. When only the second pile remained, Chloe went back into the kitchen and took a roll of black binbags out of a bottom cupboard. She unravelled it and tore one bag off the roll, taking it back into her bedroom. She opened it out and started to stuff the clothes, shoes, jewellery, make-up from the pile, and finally her mobile into the bag, tied the top together tightly, carried it into the kitchen, opened a cupboard, put the bag in, pushed it firmly to the back, and closed the cupboard door again. On her way back to her bedroom, Chloe unplugged the phone, and on re-entering her bedroom she turned the lamp off, lay face down on the bed, closed her eyes, and cried and cried.
…going down down down…”