I leaned my head back against the steel wall and exhaled a deep breath. That was a close encounter. I had had more than a few of them over the years, but I had been so close to hearing his voice this time that I could feel my heart pound away inside of my chest. I wore my earphones everywhere for a reason, so I would never have to hear his voice. Nine years ago my mum got sick, but that wasn’t all that happened that turned my world on its head. My ex-boyfriend and the love of my life, Risk Keller, walked out of my life at my request.
He had been a musician who, along with his band, got the big break they had been waiting for. The opportunity to sign a record deal with a small-time record label. I knew from the moment that my mum got sick that my life would forever be in Southwold because I was never going to leave her. Never. Risk’s life was never meant to be lived out in one place. He was too great for this small, coastal town. I knew that even if he didn’t.
Breaking up with him was the only way he could pursue his dream because I knew if I stayed in Southwold while still dating him, that he would eventually give up his career to be with me. That was how much he loved me, that was the kind of person he was. I didn’t want that for him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to break up with him. I wanted to hold on to him forever and never let him go, but that was selfish because his happiness mattered, not only mine.
Staying in Southwold would have ruined Risk. Leaving Southwold would have killed me.
The only solution was to break up, so that was what happened between us. The boy I had known my entire life, and dated and loved hard for three years, was suddenly no longer a part of my life. He did achieve his dream of being a successful musician just like I knew he would. A year and half after Risk, Hayes and May, his friends and bandmates, moved to Los Angeles, their debut album reached number one on the Billboard 200 chart. They broke records for the quickest debut album of a rock band to go straight to number one in over fifty countries, as well as having the highest first-week album sales of any rock band in their rookie year with their debut album in the US and UK.
That was only the beginning for Blood Oath.
Just like I knew they would, they exploded onto a global stage and took the world by storm. Everyone knew who they were, not only for the handsome faces of the band members, but because of their raw talent. They didn’t play anything safe. They didn’t censor themselves, they were the embodiment of rock and roll. They had won multiple Grammys, Brits and even bagged an Oscar for an original song that was featured in a major motion picture. Everything that the lads had ever wanted, they achieved it and beyond. I couldn’t have been happier for them. No one but the guys knew it, but I was the original Sinner.
The first ever fan of Blood Oath, but even back then I knew I wouldn’t be the last.
Their achievements were as far as my knowledge about them went and that was only because it was safe information that I could research. I knew Blood Oath were famous and that they were known by many around the world, but I hadn’t heard a single one of their songs in nine years, apart from the instrumental versions. Not that I didn’t want to, but just because I couldn’t cope with it. Risk was the lead vocalist of the band and his voice, his stunning voice, was one of the few things in this world that could shatter me instantly.
It was coming up on nine years since we broke up, since I last saw him in person, since I last heard his voice, since I last got to experience what it was like to kiss him, and if I heard him sing, even just for one second, I would be thrust back into the pain of losing someone who I had loved so desperately. Risk was once my rock, my coping partner, my favourite sound but now . . . now he was a trigger for pain. A trigger to remind me just how perfect my life once was and what I had with him. A trigger to remind me how I was just barely holding things together now.
I wore my earphones to protect me from him.
When I opened my eyes, the doors to the lift were closed so I had to hit the button for the floor I wanted to go to and wait. When I left the elevator and walked the familiar hallway towards my mother’s room, I realised that it had been one full week since my mother had arrived at the hospice. She had previously been in the hospital for weeks with pneumonia that had gotten worse and worse. She had reached a point in her illness where nothing more could medically be done for her. We were recommenced to have her transfer to a local hospice where she could live out the remainder of her life in comfort.
Nine years ago she was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, and now she had entered the late stages. Her disease had progressed quickly over the years and now she was speeding towards the end of her life and I couldn’t slow her down.
The mother who I visited now was only a shell of the lady I once knew, her moments of clarity were now few and far between. She couldn’t do much for herself in terms of mobility and her speech was starting to get worse and worse. It hurt my heart each time she asked me who I was and looked at me like I was a stranger off the street, but I always made sure to keep a smile on my face because while it was difficult for me, I knew that it was absolutely terrifying for her. She was in a constant state of confusion, she was often ill and she never knew what was going on.
The only other person who experienced what I felt was my stepfather, Michael O’Rourke. He and my mum married three months after her diagnosis and while I called him by his first name now, he was, in many ways, my dad. I bonded with him during a very dark and lonely time in my life and I knew with great certainty that I wouldn’t have been able to get through the past nine years without him by my side.
“Frankie?”
I looked up and smiled, the very man I was thinking of called out my name but as I neared him, I saw the look of concern on his face and felt my stomach flip. I removed my earphones, and tucked them and my iPhone into my bag as I approached Michael.
“What’s wrong?”
He placed his hand on my shoulder when I came to a stop before him.
“Bad day,” was his response.
My shoulders slumped. So much for manifesting my good day into reality.
“Crap,” I pushed hair out of my face. “What happened?”
“She got violent with a nurse earlier. Luckily she didn’t injure the woman.”
I felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach.
“Violent?” I was astounded. “Mum was violent?”
“I know, honey. She’s the sweetest lady we know, but ye know how this disease progresses. Things about the person change with time, she’s reactin’ differently the past two days. She’s angrier, more prone to snappin’ and cursin’ at the nurses.”
I lifted my hand to my neck and rubbed.
“How is she now?”
“Sleepin’,” Michael answered. “She was very agitated when I got here at nine, but she’s just fallen asleep not too long ago. She was given a sedative to help her relax.”
I nodded. “How is her chest?”
“Still the same, I was hopin’ it would have cleared a little, but nothin’ has changed.”
We went inside Mum’s room and sat on either side of her bed. She was a heavy sleeper, even more so when she was sedated, so we didn’t have to worry about every little sound waking her up. While Michael went to fill her pitcher up with fresh water, I adjusted her blanket around her body and tucked it back into place. My eyes moved to her face and my heart hurt. She was fifty-five years of age, but she looked like she could have been in her late sixties. Her disease had taken its toll on not only her mind, but her body too.