Natalie

As I drive home after visiting Lauren, my mind spins with scattered thoughts. I hardly spent any time with her today. Only a few minutes. It wasn’t nearly enough for a proper chat like we usually have. She’s in so much pain. Poor thing. I could have done something, anything at all. A warm compress, a hot drink, a gentle massage, or even a few kind words. But I didn’t. I did nothing.

If it had been Bethany instead of Lauren, she would have called me selfish. But I don’t understand. With everything going on in my life, how can I comfort anyone else? I’m trying to manage my own problems, but each day seems to add more to my plate. As if the threat from Renee and the stalker wasn’t enough, now there’s Frances and her death.

I should have called the coroner when Frances died. I should have reported it. What would they have said? Probably the same thing they said when I reported Martha’s death – “She is in her eighties and in a nursing home, so we can’t say this is unexpected. Proceed as usual.”

One phone call. That’s all it would have taken. But I hesitated. Now I understand why Jaime makes mistakes. When your mind isn’t with you, you screw up. It’s not even your fault; your circumstances play a big part. We’re only human, after all.

Looking back, it’s obvious now. I should have made that call. First, because her death was unexpected. Second, because she had a pressure sore on her tailbone. It was healing but still being assessed every week. The protocol is that the coroner must be notified if a resident has a pressure sore at the time of death. But I brushed it off. I figured it was healing and assumed Jaime wouldn’t notice. However, Jaime did notice. She made a big deal out of it. She had been keeping track of every complaint I made to management, waiting for the perfect moment to retaliate against me. And when that moment came, she didn’t waste it.

If only I had done things differently. But what’s done is done, and I can’t change it now. As I pull into the driveway, I try to push those thoughts out of my mind.

Once inside, I head straight to my room and collapse onto the bed, too drained to even think about a bath. No matter how tired I am, I always shower after work. But today, it’s not happening. It’s the first time I’ve ever skipped it. My body feels heavy, and my mind is too clouded to care.

Eventually, I drift off, but it’s not real sleep. I twitch and jerk awake several times, staring into the dark, waiting for sleep to come back. I drift off again, only to wake up once more. Over and over. Each time, my body jolts like it’s fighting something off.

Then I hear it – the same sound I’ve been hearing for days. Footsteps.

I reach for my phone on the bedside table, but it’s not there. Where did I leave it? On the bedside table? Downstairs? I have no idea anymore. Frances’s death, Jaime’s lecture, Renee’s attitude, they’re all swirling together, messing with my head so much that I no longer remember where I left my phone.

I sit up, running my hand across the bed, searching for my phone in the dark. The footsteps grow louder, deliberate, like they want me to hear them.

‘Screw off. I’m not dealing with your crap today. Go mess with someone else.’

I fall back onto the bed, trying to ignore it, but I can’t. I get up, open the door, and step outside my bedroom, peering into the hallway. Nothing. No one there. Just as I expected.

I return to bed, tenser than before. Sleep feels impossible now. I toss and turn, squeezing my eyes shut, but it’s no use.

Frustrated, I get up again and head to the bathroom. I open the closet and pull out the small box where I keep my hair ties. Inside is another box with a tiny white pill – Ativan. It’s not where I wanted to keep it, but I figured Mason wouldn’t look in there, even by mistake.

I promised myself I’d wait until my day off to try it. Another two days. I had a plan – maybe take half first to see how it works. But I don’t want to wait. I can’t wait. I need to calm down. I need something now.

I pop it under my tongue and let it dissolve.

It works almost instantly. My body relaxes, my mind quiets, and sleep pulls me under. A deep, dreamless sleep. No twitching. No footsteps.

When I wake, it’s already six. The house is eerily quiet. I drag myself downstairs.

I find my phone on the kitchen counter. Still, I don’t know if I left it there or if someone moved it from upstairs. Honestly, I don’t care either way. What bothers me more is that I can’t remember. I’m usually sharp about these things. I notice every little detail. But not today. My mind is unravelling, full of holes and loose ends.

Oh man, I’m losing it.

I curl up on the couch, trying to breathe through the tightness in my chest. I want to cry, but the tears won’t come. I want to scream, but my throat locks up.

I stay frozen like that, unsure of what to do. I should be getting ready for work, but I feel completely drained. I lie on the sofa, and sure enough, I drift off again.

I wake when Mason shakes me, telling me I’m late for work.