Page 28 of Conviction
“Neen… What the fuck? What’s wrong? Nina, fucking talk to me.”
I can’t. I can’t get the words out. I can barely get a breath in or out, so words have no chance.
I start to panic. I’m scared that I’ll drop my phone and pass out. A million different ridiculous scenarios run through my head, but no words come out of my mouth. Then suddenly, something inside my dysfunctional brain kicks in, and I hit the horn as hard as I can. I keep pressing it. Someone, somewhere, has got to hear that and come and help me.
Duchess starts barking. I undo my car door, trying to drag air into my lungs and suddenly she’s there. Sophie, in a pair of sleep shorts and nothing else, and she’s screaming at me while trying to cover her boobs.
“What the fuck, Nina. What’s going on?” She’s bending down with her head in the car, Duchess keeps barking, while I keep crying.
“Fucking tell me, Nina? Are you hurt? What happened, just tell me what happened. Shush Duch, shush.”
I start to feel calmer, the sensation of my blood whooshing through my ears stops, and I manage to breathe.
“Inside,” I whisper to her, “I need to get inside.”
She looks all over my face and body. Her brows pulled down in concern.
“Of course, of course,” is all that she says.
Without me even noticing myfeet had touched the ground, I move from my car, up a flight of stairs and into Sophie’s flat. Where I’m now curled into the corner of her sofa, with a blanket over me.
Sophie disappears for a few seconds, then reappears with a hoodie on over her shorts. She goes into the kitchen and pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses from the cupboard, setting them down on the coffee table in front of us. Without saying a word, she pours us both a large glass, then pulls a packet of cigarettes from a drawer in the coffee table and lights one. She passes me my wine. I’m not sure if I want to drink straight from the bottle or throw the contents of my stomach up again into the nearest receptacle. Sophie takes a long draw on her cigarette, then a swig of her wine. Her eyes on me the whole while.
“You gonna tell me what the fuck is going on? Coz you’re scaring the fuck outta me right now.”
I cry, again. I’m not overcome with the great heaving wracking sobs like I was earlier. This time I just cry silently. Duchess puts her head on my leg, I stroke it and meet Sophie’s concerned gaze.
“He hit me.”
Her face screws up in confusion. “What? Who?”
I suck in my bottom lip to try and stop it from trembling.
“Marcus,” I whisper.
“What? Marcus hit you?” she shrieks. I nod my head. Sophie shakes hers. Her mouth opening and closing, but no words coming out. She suddenly jumps up and puts the overhead light on, instead of just the lamp and looks at me.
Her face crumbles.
She starts to cry.
“Oh my fucking God Neen, look at your face. He fucking hit you. That fucker actually hit you.”
I nod my head continuously, we both cry while clinging onto each other. After a few moments, she asks, “D’ya wanna tell me what happened?”
She moves to the other end of the sofa, and we take simultaneous swigs on our wine. The sun is coming up, the birds are singing, and Sophie and I are drinking wine.
“I don’t know what happened. He won the fraud case and came home around three, blind drunk.” I wipe my eyes and nose on the sleeve of my hoodie and continue, “He must’ve fallen into the hall table or up the stairs or something because I heard a noise, then Duchess started barking.” My dog's ears twitch at the mention of her name, she opens one eye then closes it again, her head still in my lap.
“I got up and went to the top of the stairs, and he was just sitting at the bottom, his head in his hands… he looked, I don’t know... He turned around and looked at me, he could barely focus, but he looked at me and told me he was sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” Sophie asks, frowning in confusion.
“I don’t know. He said he was sorry and held his hand out to me.”
“Hang on, hang on a sec. Let me get you some ice, your face is swelling up as you’re talking. Looks like you’re hiding a roast potato in your cheek and it’s not attractive, babe.”
“Cheers Soph,” I reply sarcastically. She rolls her eyes at me and then heads to the kitchen to pull an ice pack from the freezer. She wraps it in a tea towel and hands it to me, before sitting back at the opposite end of the sofa.
