When I was taken off for questioning over what happened, I just burst into tears and told them everything, which resulted in them wanting DNA samples and another night in that cell. To say I slept would be a lie. I was torn between being scared of everything, scared of what my head might come up with in my sleep and the withdrawals that had kicked in maybe halfway through the interview. When I complained that I was going to be sick I was just given a bucket with some sawdust in the bottom and told to rough it out. Yeah, it wasn’t a good night.
The next morning the DNA stuff came back as a positive match that the dead man in the morgue was my father and that sperm samples from the covers in the bedsit and on me were his. They gave me a few leaflets with counsellor details and sent me on my way.
I staggered off home, remembering about a street away that I’d left my keys inside. And my phone. For a second I hesitated, wondering what to do.
"Hey, Rayn," Jeanette said. I hadn’t felt like I looked so bad til I walked into their fancy restaurant. I was pretty sure everyone was staring and quietly judging me. I clammed up and just looked at her. "What's wrong?"
"I missed you," I told her, twisting my arms around her tummy, feeling like a little kid.
She hugged back, "What's happened, sweetie?"
“Not here," I mumbled. She nodded and I went and waited by the door while she went to tell her boss or whatever that she was taking her lunch break early.
“Where d’you want to go?”
“Don’t mind,” I muttered. She took me to a cafe so she could buy herself some lunch. She bought me hot cocoa and waffles, but I just sat there prodding around, even though I’d asked for them.
“What’s happened?” she asked again. I skimmed over the part where daddy used me for his plaything, but otherwise told her most of it. When I was done, she wrapped me in a cuddle. I put my head on her shoulder and she rested hers on top of mine.
"Is it bad that I'm scared of Kyle now?" I mumbled quietly, sniffling a little.
"I don't know, sweetie."
"I don't feel like I should be but he killed him,” I looked at her innocently, confused by how I felt. I mean, I was free of daddy for the rest of my life, but now Kyle was a killer. I guess he was defending me, but... I don’t know. It’s confusing.
"I'm sure he didn't mean to."
"I haven't seen him since they took him to the hospital."
"Maybe you should go visit him, then."
"I only got out a couple hours ago. I don't have any keys for the apartment."
“I think I've got a spare somewhere. We can go back to mine and have a look for it, if you want?" I nodded, nibbling at my waffle while she finished her lunch. She took me back to her place and found me the key. I thanked her, trying to decide if I wanted her to stay and keep me company or not. “Want me to try and get the rest of the day off and come with you?"
"It's up to you," I told her, still undecided.
"I don't mind."
I shrugged. "I was only planning to feed Scruffles get high and go to bed."
"Okay. You should think about going to see Kyle, though, he probably misses you."
"Tomorrow," I muttered, wondering if I would go tomorrow. She smiled. “Thanks for the key. I’ll give it back later.”
“No problem,” she said.
“See you later?”
She nodded, “I’ll swing by later, if you want?” I tilted my head forward, not even bothering to nod properly. She planted a kiss on the top of my head and I forced myself to give her a baby of a smile, trying to be all brave. I could cope on my own, right? "Go on, go see Scruffles.” We hugged goodbye and I walked slowly back to the apartment.
It was weird walking back into the apartment after what felt like an age. Nothing had changed here, but I felt like I’d changed a whole lot. I wandered in to see Scruffles who squeaked angrily at me, hopping around his empty food bowl. I sighed, refilling it, watching as he sniffed me suspiciously before taking an armful of food off to his hollow coconut shell bed and hid from me.
“I’m not even a good pet owner, how am I supposed to be a good partner?” I grumbled, shutting the cage door and heading for the bathroom. “I’m s’posed to be supportive and nice, but I’m hiding away, scared of him,” I berated myself. Part of me didn’t seem to care, though. And once the needle was in my vein, the rest of me stopped caring, too.