http://i.imgsafe.org/f86e840962.jpg

**Continuation from**
https://steemit.com/life/@handsolo/big-decisions
**and**
https://steemit.com/life/@handsolo/bad-decisions-part-1

I stepped to the bed and held her hand as she kissed me with tear soaked lips. I couldn’t speak and there was a sharp rock stuck in my throat. She was mumbling that she was sorry and she didn’t mean to cause so much trouble over and over again as she nestled her face into my chest. I held her head gently and told her that it was ok, I was just glad that she was alive. We stayed locked together for some time, until I realised that the mum’s were stood in the doorway obviously wanting to speak with us.

It was late by now and visiting time was over, they said. I said that I would be out in a few minutes and could they close the door behind them. Turning back to Aishah, I saw she had regained some composure but was still clearly shaken. She told me that the police had been with her most of the day trying to get her to say that I had pushed her out of the window. I got angry but tried not to let it show as she went on to tell me that she had told them that they had me wrong, I was a good guy and they should leave me alone.

I didn’t know what I could have done to incite this kind of attack from cops I didn’t even know. Perhaps they were pissed with someone from my local pub and were looking for some kind of leverage, I never found out. Needless to say I wasn’t happy to hear what she said and began to get the feeling that I was in over my head. I made sure she was comfortable; I filled her water jug and kissed her goodnight. Giving her assurances that I would visit in the morning I closed the door quietly and headed for the exit.

Climbing into the front passenger seat of the Lanrover I felt the tension and knew there was more to this day. Aishah’s mum, June said we needed to talk, but not now; when we got home. I got a bad feeling but was pretty wrung out by the events of the last 24 hours and was confident that it couldn’t get any worse.

Arriving home I saw that the front door had crime scene tape stuck to it so I pulled it off as I walked in. The coffee table was empty, I saw; the bastards had stolen my weed tin. I didn’t even have the energy to get mad about it. In passing, I thought about what a bunch of hypocritical assholes the police are then let it go. I was tired and so ready for a shower and bed but remembering that June wanted to speak with me, I put the kettle on and waited in the kitchen. 

A few minutes later June came in and I poured us a cup of tea. She gestured to the dining table and we sat down. Looking at her it was clear she was struggling with what she was about to say. My sense of foreboding grew; she began to speak.

*“When Aishah was fourteen she was gang raped”*. I broke. *“She was almost beaten to death during the rape and spent many weeks in hospital afterwards.”*  In the years since, she had descended into Heroin addiction and had been sectioned (Committed to psychiatric care) many times. June went on to explain that Aishah was severely mentally unstable; she was under outreach care in London and on the Methadone program to counter her addiction to Heroin. 

As she spoke I felt my world tilt, then collapse around me. How could I have missed the signs? Was she really that fucked up or was this some kind of nightmare that I would suddenly wake up from? June continued to speak but all I heard were words like Bulimic, Addiction, Mental Health…… I closed in on myself as I realised the full extent of the reality I now found myself in. I needed June to stop talking but she kept on piling up the nightmares. I stood up abruptly and simply said *“enough for now.”* June could see that I meant it and didn’t protest as I walked out into the back garden.

I kept a stash in my workshop so headed to the bottom of the garden to retrieve a joint. I smoked slowly, trying to take in all that had just been said. I couldn’t believe it! My future plans in disarray I felt adrift with no idea what to do next. Having been through my own share of nightmares I knew that I would find no solutions this night so simply sat there and smoked. It must have been past midnight when I finally re-entered the house and went to bed. I slept fitfully and woke the next morning feeling un-refreshed.

As I mentioned before, I had spent the greater part of my life alone since leaving home at 16. I’d moved around a lot, first just bumming around in France then the Midlands of England then, while serving in the Royal Air Force I had lived in Eastern England, near Peterborough, but had also worked in Germany. I had moved several times since leaving the military, taking on a few different jobs, and then I’d had the accident. 

After a year or so of recuperation I attended college to gain entry to university and it was acceptance onto a Law degree course that had brought me to Manchester a few years earlier. I’d never been able to make a relationship last too long so was severely lacking in experience. As I sat at the dining table the next morning I came to the conclusion that all I could do was deal with the practicalities of the current situation. She was more important than I just now so her needs came first. Little did I know the toll this decision would take.

The next day was the first of many exhausting days. The mum’s left early that morning and after visiting the hospital to say goodbye to Aishah, they went home. I had to go to the office and arrange a more flexible timetable as I learned that Aishah refused to eat hospital food. This meant that I would have to prepare her a lunch and evening meal each day for the foreseeable future. I didn’t know how long she would be in hospital so went to the supermarket to stock up on pre-approved food.

After preparing her lunch I raced to the hospital before it could cool, luckily I lived close by. She seemed a little better when I arrived and reached up to hug my neck as I bent to kiss her. I cared deeply for this girl and as I watched her eat the food I had the feeling of being her protector or maybe provider, I’m not too sure but there were powerful emotions coursing through me and I was determined not to fail her. We chatted as she ate then she showed me the angry purple swelling on her side and I wondered at her resilience. I didn’t speak of the conversation I’d had with her mother, I didn’t feel it was necessary to bring up such a thing at this time. I simply let her talk.

Shortly after eating she excused herself and walked slowly to the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later with a light sheen of sweat on her brow. I knew she had been sick but I said nothing as she climbed slowly back into bed. We chatted until about 1pm then I had to return to work. I said I’d be back around 5:30 with her dinner and did she need anything else? *“Some cigarettes”* was all she said.

I returned to the hospital as promised and stayed until visiting time ended. We talked and on many occasions I tried to broach the subject of her history. As you can probably imagine, this was difficult, both for she and I, but I knew we needed to get at least some of it out in the open. Slowly she began to open up but I could tell it was painful for her so I never pushed. This was my routine for the next three weeks. 

While in hospital she had received her daily dose of methadone but upon her release on the 20th of December she was told that she would need to visit her own doctor in London to receive more. This presented a problem.
She was not fit to travel such a distance and even after a long conversation with her doctor she was unable to secure a new supply. She asked me to take her to a pharmacy and as we arrived I gave her some cash as she insisted on going in alone. She exited the pharmacy a few minutes later clutching a plastic bag tightly. My request to know what she had bought was met with a stony stare and silence. This lack of trust hurt me but I pushed my feelings down; her needs were all that mattered.

Returning home she struggled upstairs, entered the small guestroom and closed the door. By now I knew better than to disturb her. I didn’t see her again that night.

I wasn’t due to finish work for Christmas until the 23rd so the next morning I tapped lightly on her door to say goodbye but got no response. I tapped again then opened the door. She was unconscious, fully clothed and lying across the bed at what looked like an uncomfortable angle. Concerned by her appearance I tried to wake her. She moaned once then moved into a slightly less extreme position then was still. On the floor around the bed were empty packets of pain pills and cold remedies, I mean lots of them. I guessed that she had taken them in an effort to gain some respite from the withdrawal she must be experiencing for the absent Methadone.
 
I had to go to work but didn’t want to leave her in this condition so I called my manager and explained that I needed the morning but would see her after lunch. I spent the rest of that morning sitting by her bed waiting for signs of life.
She woke around midday and greeted my concerned questions with impatience. At somewhat of a loss I offered her a joint which she took without comment and inhaled the pungent smoke deeply. Becoming a little more animated she told me not to worry and that I should go to work. If she needed anything she would call my cell. Reluctantly I left.

Work was weird. The office was festooned with Christmas decorations, some of my colleagues were wearing Santa hats and there was a festive air. I saw it all as if I stood behind thick glass. I didn’t want to dampen the atmosphere so I put on my best smile and wished everyone a happy Christmas then headed to my manager’s office.

I briefly explained what was going on and she immediately agreed that I could finish up and take my holidays early. I thanked her, wished her a merry Christmas and left without further comment.

The next couple of days were tough. I’d prepare food; Aishah would eat then hobble to the bathroom where I can only assume she threw up. She’d then gather up her pills and disappear into her room. I really was in over my head so complied with her wishes without comment.

When my sister and her boyfriend arrived on the 24th Aishah seemed a little better. I don’t know if she had found a drug combination that worked for her or not but she seemed almost cheerful. We opened a bottle of wine ant the four of us got a little drunk as we chatted. It was kind of surreal in light of what had transpired over the preceding three weeks or so but I was just relieved to have my sister there and pretend, at least for one night, that everything was ok. It was late when we went to bed and I was surprised when Aishah asked if I would lie with her for a while. We had not slept together since before her fall and although I knew that sex was out of the question, I had missed having her near me at night so was overjoyed simply to hold her for a while. There was a bit of black comedy as we moved gingerly around each other to find a comfortable position; she cried out when I touched her bad side but gripped my hand tightly and wouldn’t let me move. We settled down and soon drifted off to sleep still fully clothed.

Christmas morning and I awoke before her. Carefully exiting the bed I headed downstairs. My sister and her boyfriend were already in the kitchen preparing food for the day. I offered to help but was shooed out and told to take it easy, all was under control. Soon Aishah came down and we four settled in to open a few presents and eat the snack my sister had prepared. Aishah ate little but I was in no mood to deal with any of that today. I just wanted to relax a bit.

The day seemed to be going well and we even sat down for a game of Risk. I drank wine and we all shared a joint; for a while I forgot the nightmare and took pleasure from good company. Sometime later I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I knew, my sister was shaking my shoulder and calling for me to wake up. My eyes opened and I saw that she was worried which instantly brought me fully awake. *“What’s wrong?”* I asked with a growing sense of dread. *“I can’t find Aishah”* she replied. Oh, no! Not again, I thought.

I went upstairs and, although I knew it to be highly unlikely, I went up to my loft room and looked out the skylight. She wasn’t on the roof. Somewhat relieved I went back downstairs, checking the other rooms on my way. She was nowhere to be found. Donning a jacket I stepped out into the fresh snow and saw footprints leading out of the front garden. I followed.

Coming to the end of my street I saw the tracks lead out onto the main road then stop. There was a mess of other tracks and the twin lines of car tyres leading up to them. I was horrified and ran to the site. Calming down slightly as I saw no blood; I looked around hoping to see someone, anyone who could tell me what had happened. 

A few moments later the front door of a nearby house opened and an old woman stepped out onto the street. She explained that she had been putting out some garbage when she had seen a young woman with walking crutches throw herself in front of an approaching car. The car had missed her and she had begun to cry hysterically. The driver had called an ambulance, helped her to the side of the road and then driven off. The old woman had stayed with the girl until the ambulance arrived. The old woman knew who I was but didn’t put me and the girl together so had done nothing more.

Realising that I was still over the legal alcohol limit to drive, I called a cab and paid the exorbitant tariff as we arrived once more at the hospital. It only took a few minutes to find where she was and it was with trepidation that I opened the door to her room. 

She was lying on the bed, just staring out of the window with unblinking eyes. I really had nothing to say so just sat next to her bed and waited. Sometime later a nurse entered and told us that she was free to go home, as soon as possible please, the bed was needed by another patient. Without a word Aishah extended her hand to me, I took it I helped her to her feet. 

It was a slow and silent walk to where the taxis waited. I was reeling at the new twist this tale had taken and struggling to know what I should do next. We drove home without saying a word and upon arrival I once more helped her into bed. I don’t remember much more about that Christmas day, I think I just went to bed.

The next day I called June and told her what had happened. Her flat, almost cold tone of voice told me much more than her words and I realised that this kind of thing was no surprise to her. I asked for advice but she had none to give. I realised that she had washed her hands of her own daughter and wondered at the nightmare she must have lived to arrive at such a pass. I also realised that I had to find a way through this that didn’t destroy my own life and began to think about how I could get Aishah back to her support worker in London. I knew that this situation was way beyond my abilities to handle alone and I had to put my feelings for her to one side if I wasn’t to follow her down the rabbit hole.

The rest of the Christmas break passed relatively uneventfully, in that there were no more suicide attempts at least. Every day she would insist that I took her to the pharmacy, a different one each time, so she could buy her cocktail of non-prescription drugs. Not knowing what else to do I complied with her wishes and was almost grateful that she would spend the rest of the day out cold in the spare bedroom. 

I returned to work on the tenth of January but found it incredibly hard to concentrate. Every day I’d come home from work to find the house in disarray and her passed out either on the sofa or her bed in the spare room. 
Growing tired of the futility of the struggle I was now in, I began to lose my patience. It was no surprise to me when I realised that my feelings for her had changed dramatically and I really just wanted an end to the nightmare. Maybe she sensed the change, maybe not, but she was becoming aggressive with me. Refusing to wash, or change her clothes. The spare room began to stink and although her ribs were healing, she looked worse every day.

Coming home from work towards the end of January I saw that the front door was open. I entered the house and could hear talking upstairs. Closing the door behind me I ascended the stairs, dreading what I might see. Reaching the landing I looked into the spare room and saw her and a scruffy looking guy I had never seen before clearly in the process of making a drug deal. Not thinking of any possible danger I entered the room and asked the scruffy guy to leave my house immediately. He must have seen the barely controlled rage on my face because he simply grabbed his paraphernalia and headed for the stairs. Aishah, on the other hand, flew into a rage. She attacked me, punching my face and chest in a frenzy the likes of which I had never seen. 

With a slam the front door closed as the scruffy guy left. I looked out the window to make sure he had actually left when I felt a smashing blow to the back of my head. I staggered and almost fell down the stairs but managed to grab the rail and steady myself. I turned to see what she had hit me with when she attacked again. I grabbed her wrist and shook the pool trophy out of her hand but she continued to hit me with her other one. Blood pouring down my back, I was astonished by her strength and realised that I was in real danger. I had to calm her down. 

I let her go and took a step back, calmly saying her name. She took a step towards me so I moved a little further away repeating her name. I held up my open hand and told her I was her friend. I repeated the words and gradually I saw the rage leave her face. She slowly collapsed to the floor and began to weep.

My heart ached for her but I knew this had to end today. I would not take any more of this. 

I left her upstairs and went down to the kitchen to put my head under the tap. Red stained water began to fill the bowl as I gently rubbed the wound. It was small but bleeding profusely, as head wounds generally do and there was a growing lump. I fished a bandage out of my first aid kit and wrapped it around my head. Placing a baseball cap over the bandage I went back upstairs.

Aishah had calmed down and began to apologise. She told me she was sorry, this would never happen again and could I possibly forgive her. I said it was ok but I had reached my decision. I told her it was over; I wasn’t going to take anymore. I would take her to the train station; I would pay for her ticket to wherever she wanted to go but I could do nothing more for her. I saw my words hit home and it nearly broke my heart as the last vestiges of determination left her face. 

Without a word she gathered her meagre possessions and walked slowly to the car. We drove in silence, there was really nothing more to say, and arrived at Piccadilly train station about ten minutes later.

She wanted to go to London so I purchased the ticket and helped her to the platform. The train was already there so we headed to the smokers carriage and stopped by its door. She turned to me with tears rolling down her cheeks and offered me her arms for a hug. With immense sadness I took her gently in my arm and whispered *“I’m sorry.”*