Thirteen. Jude

 

I had trouble sleeping last night. Three o'clock in the morning came and went and I was still wide awake. And it was so cold and still in my room. It's cold and still in my world. Where did my childhood go? What happened to all the things I wanted to do and wanted to be? I can't even remember. The way I live now is the only life I know.

But last night was one of the bad ones.

Some nights I sleep just as soon as my head touches the pillow. Some nights, sleep and me are strangers. Those are the nights when I can't get my brother out of my head. Maybe Cara had something to do with it. Me and a dagger – who would've thought it? But she's just a means to an end. And don't we all do what we have to, to survive? Callum, I don't understand why I'm still here and yet you couldn't make it. Maybe I never will. You were always so much brighter and bolder than I was. But thinking of you through the night brought me no joy, no comfort. My body tensed. My fists clenched. My eyes burned into the darkness around me. Not just my body but my whole soul was swallowed by rage. Rage enough to consume the whole world. Just thinking of you, Callum, made all the hatred inside me swell and explode like napalm fireworks. A feeling so intense that I scared even myself. So I lay on my bed and stared into the darkness and plotted and schemed until I fell asleep, exhausted.

My room was cold.

But my heart was colder.

I phoned my girlfriend, Gina, in the evening. She didn't sound too pleased to hear from me. Or maybe what I mean is, she didn't sound happy to hear from me. Not impatient or indifferent, but not happy either. I don't know what I was expecting. Our on-again, off-again relationship had been off for quite some time now. But I was alone and thought she'd be as good as anyone to talk to.

'Jude, I'm a bit busy at the moment,' she said, less than two minutes into the conversation.

In the background I could hear music softly playing. A love song. I had no doubt it was from the Gibson Dell CD she always played when we were together.

'I haven't seen you in a long time, Gina. I thought we could have a chat,' I said.

'I really haven't got time at the moment,' Gina said again, her tone more clipped, her voice getting higher. A definite sign of stress. I'd phoned her at home. She obviously wasn't alone.

'Who's there with you?' I asked silkily.

'No one,' Gina replied quickly. Too quickly.

So I'd been right.

'Who's there with you?' I repeated.

'Jude, I don't own you and you certainly don't own me. I haven't seen or heard from you in months. I'm not some kind of machine that only comes to life when you can be bothered to get off your backside and call me.' Gina's words were spilling out now, tripping over each other in their haste to be heard. And her tone was getting more shrill. She was with someone and she was feeling guilty about it.

'I thought we were together – an item,' I told her. 'My mistake.'

'Don't you dare!' she shouted at me. 'Don't you dare blame me. You don't talk to me for weeks at a time and when you are with me, you make me feel like you could quite happily be somewhere else.'

Gina's words didn't shock me and, truth to tell, I was a bit surprised to find that I wasn't the least bit upset that she was seeing someone else. But her total over-reaction to what I'd said told me that there was more to this than met the eye. And then it clicked. Took me a couple of seconds but it was late and I was tired.

'Let me speak to Morgan,' I told her.

There was a deathly hush which spoke more than volumes.

'Gina, put Morgan on the phone,' I ordered. I sensed that the slightest hesitation on my part would result in her shrieking her denial at me. A dull ache was beginning to form behind my eyes. I closed my eyes and groaned inwardly. I had the beginnings of a killer migraine.

'Hello, Jude.'

Even though I was expecting his voice, it still made me start. Suspecting something, no matter how strongly, is never the same as having your suspicions confirmed.

'Hello, old friend,' I said deliberately.

'You weren't interested, I was,' said Morgan at once.

There was no apology, no remorse in his voice. Just a belligerent challenge.

I was too tired and my head was throbbing too much to care. 'You can have her, Morgan – but believe me, you can do better.'

'Is that all you wanted to say to me?' asked Morgan, icily.

'No, but I can't talk to you now. We'll talk tomorrow. Call me from a phone box on my mobile.' And I slammed the phone down.

Alone again.

Naturally.

I flung myself down on my bed, groaning as my headache kicked in with a vengeance.