Stop it. It’s over.
It’s so cold. I walk into my bedroom and retrieve a woollen blanket from the end of our bed, wrapping it around me for protection. I’m hoping that by warming myself up it’s going to make the memory of being cold and petrified leave me. It thunders again and I sit down on the end of the lounge, bringing my feet up in front of me. Please, stop. Please don’t rain. My heart rate starts to pick up and my anxiety rises.
Joshua watches me. “You ok?” He frowns.
“I’m just tired,” I reply too quickly.
“We will have an early dinner and turn in.”
“Yes.”
The thunder rumbles loudly and I jump. I get a flash of me sitting on the bed in the dark with a gun, staring out the window as the lightning flashed. The rain is hitting the window and my feet are hurting. I’m wearing clothes that are way too big and smell of camphor. I stand and walk to the bedroom. I need to get away from all of this.
More thunder.
I see myself breaking the glass with a rock to get into that house. I inhale deeply. God, stop it.
I sit on the end of the bed and close my eyes. Calm down, calm down. The heavy raindrops start to fall, and I feel my anxiety rise further.
“Natasha?” Joshua asks quietly as he comes after me. “Are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” I snap. Just leave me a fucking lone.
“Do you want a cup of tea?”
I nod. “Yes, please.” He walks back into the kitchen and the rain comes down – heavy torrential rain – and I feel tears swell in my eyes. The vision of waiting in that tin shed with a gun in the pouring rain takes over me. I hate this. I hate seeing this. Make it stop.
“Here.”
I look up in surprise to see Joshua is back with my tea already. I go to take it, but my hand is shaking.
Joshua watches my hand for a moment. “You are getting a migraine.” His voice is soft and caring.
I drop my head.
It continues to pelt down with rain and I scrunch up my face in pain as the vision of Amelie standing in front of me fills my head.
Joshua drops to sit next to me on the bed. “What is it, baby?”
I’m holding the gun at her and she’s goading me. I close my eyes to try and block it out.
“Tash, what’s wrong? Tell me what’s wrong.”
I shake my head and screw up my face. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?”
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
Joshua wraps his arms around me. “Ssh.”
The lightning crashes again and I jump in his arms.
“Its ok, baby. Its ok,” he whispers.
I start to cry uncontrollably against Joshua’s chest as he holds me.
“You don’t have the guts.” Amelie sneers in my mind.
I feel myself lose control and pull the trigger three times.
She falls to the ground bleeding and my tortured eyes meet Joshua’s.
“I killed her.” I sob. “She died because of me.”
The noisy rain comes down and I cry even harder. “M-make it stop,” I stammer.
“Make the rain stop.”
“Baby, let’s get into the shower,” Joshua whispers.
I nod nervously.
“Natasha,” I hear Cameron yell from the front door.
“In here,” Joshua calls out.
Cameron walks in and his face drops. He sits on the other side of me on the bed. “Are you ok, babe?” he asks.
“No, she’s not,” Joshua answers for me.
“It’s the rain,” Cameron whispers.
“Huh?”
“It’s the rain. It’s making me think of it, too.”
“What do you mean?” Joshua asks.
“It was raining heavy for days when Natasha was running and hiding. The day with the…” He stops midsentence, unsure what to say.
Joshua squeezes me to his chest just that little bit harder.
“Make it stop, Cam,” I whisper through my tears.
The lightning crashes and I lose control, slapping my hands over my ears as I cower and curl into Joshua with fright.
“Jesus.” He holds me tight.
The lightning cracks again, and I cry out loud, holding my hands over my ears.
“Give her something!” Joshua snaps.
“Like what?”
“A fucking sedative.”
“I do have her migraine medication with me in case she needed it,” he replies.
I begin to cry out loud.
“Christ,” Cameron mutters as he stands.
“Fine. Hurry up.”
The last thing I remember is Cameron giving me a needle and Joshua carrying me to the shower. I fall into an almost zombie state as my brain tries to shut out the horror.
“It’s ok, Presh. I’m here. I’ve got you, baby.”
The horror of post-traumatic stress lives within me. I am sombre and I’m tired. I don’t now where I want to be, but I know it isn’t here, dealing with this.
The trip from the airport to the hotel our temporary home in L.A. – is made in complete silence. It’s 1am and Ben, who is driving, has just had an altercation with a photographer at the airport. He was only trying to protect me. The photographer tried to grab me to get his shot when Ben lost it, pushed him, sending the photographer flying until he fell over.
They will try and sue him, they always do.