The Saturday Boy, Two Years On

by Westcliff Writer

Prologue

My hand trembling, brain frazzled and an altogether feeling of dread surging through me, I reached for my cell phone. Below my bed I could feel the very dull boom of the music that echoed through the club. I was alone, more alone than could possibly be described in words. It was my night off and I so wished it wasn't. I wanted to keep busy!

A wetness surrounded the blackish bags under my young eyes, and truth be told I hadn't slept for ages, maybe even days. I viewed the screen through blurry eyes and scrolled down. Finding the number I wanted, I paused, another surge of dread coming over.

I got up, paced the room, sat back down again, A feeling of helplessness and frustration was all around me. It was like some toxic invisible mist that was closing in on me, pushing me further and further into the cold dark recesses of my mind.

Food, or lack off was draining my body of energy. I was running on nerves and fumes alone. My door was locked, and I hadn't come out of it for thirty six hours now. All I told my mum was that I was ill and needed to stay in bed, but I didn't, I needed information. For me it was like being part of the Borg and then being released from the hard mind and I felt so utterly in despair.

Again, I picked up my cell and scrolled down again, the number in front of me, screaming at to dial, but again I threw it down, gritting my teeth together. I wanted to be sick, I felt sick, but it was that nauseating feeling you get with shock rather than food poisoning.

I began talking to myself like some mental case, but I needed to talk to someone. All my family blamed me for this and they were right, I'd caused it, it was my fault, because I'm Joey Cork and in the end he fucks everything up just by opening his mouth.

I went and lay down on the bed again and pulled the covers over me, right over my head. Sobbing almost immediately because all I could smell was me. He wasn't here, and I felt angry, so angry at myself. Feeling round on top of my comforter I once again grabbed my phone but this time I found a different number and dialled.

"Hello?" came a voice as the line clicked. "Hello? Joey, is that you?" it repeated. I tried to talk but nothing was coming out of my mouth. "Joey, if this is you, please say something, I can hear you crying, whatever's the matter?"

"Yeah, yeah its me, I'm sorry to call you, I'm just going out of my mind here."

"What's happened, it sounds serious, are… are you ok?"

"I need to see you, can I see you, I really need to talk to someone?"

"Uh… yeah of course, but Joey its one in the morning."

"Can I come to you, I can drive over… Oh no shit, I can't he's taken our car!" I sobbed feeling suddenly trapped.

"Just wait for me, I'll get dressed and come and get you… Jesus he's done it hasn't he?"

I stayed silent, not sure if my heart could take the stress of answering the question.

"I'm sorry, just please hurry, I need to get away from this place for a few hours."

"Oh fuck Joey, I'm so sorry, I didn't know it had got that bad, I'm on my way OK, just stay calm, I'll be with you as fast as I can…damn it why didn't you call me sooner! The phone clicked in my ear and I dropped it in front of my burying my head in my hands.

Dragging myself back out of bed I went to our closet to pull out something to wear noticing it was void of certain clothes. I pulled a sweater and some jeans from the shelf and put them on, before clicking the door shut again. I hated that closet, and always made sure it was shut at all times.

Wandering into our en suite bathroom I picked up some product and applied it to my hair, trying not to look at how sad my face looked. The trouble with the en suite it meant I never had to leave our bedroom and it had helped make me a prisoner in my room for the past few days.

Mum, and even dad, had knocked a few times trying to coax me out but I gave them the same message over and over…I was ill. They weren't stupid through, they noticed the absence of people in the living apartment, and they had heard the arguments, the slamming doors. I guess for them, they were probably waiting until I was ready to say something. I wasn't ready to talk to family right now anyway. They had all formed their opinions, and although were all close I knew what they thought I was to blame for the atmosphere.

Roman? Well he hadn't spoken to me for days; his last comment to me was that I was a psycho with issues far deeper than I could ever get help with. Maybe he was right, but I felt my actions of late rational, and it's probably because of that he felt the need to spit such a comment at me.

I wandered back into the bedroom and managed a small chuckle, seeing a birthday card ripped in half just beside the bin. Remnant of a previous argument I'd had with him.


I heard my phone bleep and went over to look at it. I knew of course it was just Toby letting me know he was here so I got my warm jacket on and left my room quietly. Using the fire escape I headed down two flights of stairs and out through the emergency exit, jamming the sensor with a coin so as not to set off the alarm.

Toby was waiting outside for me, a look of concern noticeable on his face.

"C'mon, let's get you to the car its freezing out here."

"Thanks Toby, I'm sorry to drag you out here so late, it's just I…I."

"Hey, don't sweat it, that's what friends are for eh?"

As we got to the car Toby unlocked it and allowed me to climb in to the front seat. I quickly closed the door and shivered. Moments later Toby got in and looked at me before starting the engine.

"What's happened?"

"Jack, he… he's left me."

Toby shook his head and started the engine.

"You look terrible Joey, I think some hot soup and a glass of wine is called for and then you can tell me all about this."

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