Over

When the shock that we were over, it was over, my whole bloody life, had started to wear off, and all that was left were the faint blue tinges of bruises on my ribs and throat, the weather took a turn for the worst. It was November by then and the frost had started to come, along with the strong winds that ushered in winter.

The days began early, long grey twilights where I would lay in bed and take Valium to watch the dawn with. Everyone in the house would go to work and I would drink, start drinking at about 10, until I couldn’t focus anymore. Then I would sleep. When I woke again it would be dark and I would have a headache and I would remember that I would never see you again. I would join my family, pale and listless, not eat dinner, cry a little and be told that I had to pull myself together. I would go back to bed, take more Valium, sleep until 3 and then wait again for the dawn.

November gave way to December and Christmas, where I sat and watched as our house was shrouded in tinsel and everybody celebrated as though nothing had changed. I spent new years eve, huddled with Dave on the floor of a house in Manchester, high and low at the same time on coke and weed, bawling crying, telling him that I didn’t know how I could carry on with the rest of my life. In the dark he put his arm around me and told me I would get used to it. It would be okay.