Shit. Did I say something stupid? I close my eyes, trying to think past the searing pain in my head. It’s no use. I can’t remember. Hell, I can barely form full thoughts.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Can’t think straight.”
Another wave of pain washes over me, bursting behind my eyes. I groan, my hands clenching in the bedsheets, and feel Beth’s small fingers press against my temples again. I want to push her off, but it feels too good. Besides, I’m not sure I can lift my arms.
I should have known this would happen. I could feel the migraine coming on this morning, flickering at the edges of my vision, pressing down on my brain, but I just took some pills and tried to ignore it. What choice did I have? I had work to do and a baby to look after.
Cami woke up in a bad mood, and cried pretty much all day. I tried everything to make her happy. Reading her a book. Singing her a song. Holding her. Everything just made her more and more angry. She refused to eat lunch, and wouldn’t go for her afternoon nap. No matter what I did, I couldn’t calm her down.
The pain got worse and worse as the day went on, until it finally came to a head this evening. I was holding Cami down, trying to change her nappy, when the first wave hit me. I just about managed to get her in a clean babygrow, and then I came into the bedroom and pretty much just fucking collapsed, still holding her.
I was so scared. Through the pounding in my head, the only thought in my mind was I’m going to hurt her. I was going to hurt Cami. I was going to drop her, or bang her against something. I was going to pass out, and she’d lie on the floor starving until the others came back tomorrow. She was going to get hurt, and it would be my fault.
I didn’t know what to do. So I called Beth.
Beth, the sweet, gentle woman my daughter is completely in love with. Beth, the pretty girl-next-door both of my roommates are crushing on. Beth, who hates my fucking guts.
I’ve thought about her a lot this weekend. I can’t get her face out of my head. I can’t forget the wide-eyed, hurt, confused expression she was wearing when I shouted at her over the spilt toys. I groan at the memory.
I scared her. I know I did. That’s why she cleaned up the whole flat after I yelled at her. I never meant to upset her, but I did, because I’m so clumsy and harsh I can’t even leave the house without losing my temper and scaring some poor girl shitless. Beth has done nothing but help us. We’d have been utterly screwed if she hadn’t let Jack drag her up to our flat last week. And I’ve just hurt her. Like I hurt everyone.
And now I’m lying here, completely incapacitated, while she’s forced to look after me and my child.
I’m a useless dad. Cami’s better off without me.
“Shh,” Beth says softly, pushing back some of my hair. “It’s okay.”
I crack open my eyes. She’s perched on the mattress behind me, her phone in one hand. The light from the screen washes her pale skin in blue.
“What?” I ask. It comes out more like a grunt.
She gives me a little smile. “Whatever you’re thinking about. It looks painful. It’s gonna be okay.” She checks her phone, then slides out from under me, slipping off the bed and padding across the room. “One sec,” she murmurs, heading out into the lounge.
I can hear her moving around in the kitchen, rooting through cupboards. My head starts to pound again, and I rub my eyes. It feels like someone is trying to hammer them out of my skull from the inside. I try to sit up, but my vision blurs so badly I have to lay back down.
Frustration floods me.
I really tried this weekend. After Beth told me off on Friday night, I realised that she was right. For as long as I have Cami with me, I need to prioritise her over my work. I can’t just hire a nanny and ignore my own child. All weekend, I focussed on Cami, leaving my work until the night-time when she was asleep. I really tried to look after her, but I literally, physically couldn’t.
Which only means one thing. I’ll have to give her away.
My stomach churns. The thought is so repulsive I think I might actually throw up.
My bedroom door cracks open again, and Beth slips back inside. “Here,” she whispers, setting a glass of water and a pill bottle on my bedside table. “Take these.”
I groan. “Beth. Please. I’m fine. Stay with Cami.”
“I texted Cyrus. He says you need to take your meds and sleep it off.” She cracks open the pill bottle and shakes out a tablet, offering it to me. “Here.”
I close my eyes. “No.”
There’s no way. Those painkillers mess with my brain. They make me fuzzy and uncoordinated. There’s no way I could take them while looking after a baby. I’d probably drop her, or fall asleep and forget to feed her, or try and run her a bath and end up burning her. So many awful scenarios flash through my mind.
No. I can’t take the pills.
Beth sighs, running a hand through my sweaty hair. “Seb, come on. There’s no reason for you to be in this much pain.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I’ll hurt her,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes. “Won’t be able to control myself.”
She goes still. “What?” I don’t reply. She touches my wrist. “Sebastian. Seb, look at me.”
I do. For the first time this evening, I really look at her. She clearly ran here as soon as I called; she’s wearing a t-shirt with a stain on it, and her shiny hair is pulled into a bun that’s sliding down one side of her head, hanging by her cheek. Her full lips are dry, like she’s been biting them, and her eyeliner is smudged.
She looks an absolute mess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman more beautiful.
“I’m sorry I scared you,” I blurt out. “When I yelled at you.” I take a deep breath. The room spins slowly around me. I feel like I’m drunk.
She looks confused. “What are you talking about? You didn’t scare me. You pissed me off.”
“You were hurt.” I remember that. I remember the look on her face. Like I’d just slapped her. Guilt throbs in my stomach. I never meant to upset her. I can’t help it. No wonder my own daughter screams whenever I try to hold her. “Sorry. Wasn’t personal. I hurt everyone.”
“You didn’t hurt me.” She leans closer. “Why do you think you hurt everyone?”
I shake my head. “Is Cami okay?” I mumble.
“She’s sound asleep.” She narrows her eyes. “Why are you so scared of holding her? What do you think is going to happen?”
“Don’t want to hurt her.”
“But why would you hurt her?” She pauses. “Do you want to hurt her?”
“No! I’d kill anyone who tried!” I clench my jaw. Sweat drips down the back of my neck. “I was so mad when I saw her. In the car seat. Could’ve killed someone then.”
I haven’t been so angry since I was twelve years old, when I punched my mum’s boyfriend Steve in the face. Maybe the pain is messing with my head, because the memory is so vivid I can almost feel the warm blood on my fingers.
Steve glares at me, fuming. “That kid’s rabid,” he mutters, spitting out a tooth I knocked loose. “Fuck, Ellen. I’m done with you.”
My mum’s eyes are huge. “Steve, please… I’m so sorry… for God’s sake, don’t leave me! It’s not my fault he hit you!”
Steve marches to the door. Mum scurries after him, and he slams it in her face. She wheels on me, her eyes blazing.
“What have you done?” She shrieks.
I grit my teeth. “He was yelling at you.”
“What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid boy? Do you have any idea how important he is to this family? Everything you have—your trainers, your TV, your bike—all of that came from him.”
“I don’t want that stuff. I want him to go away.”
“Well, you’ve got your wish, kid. He’ll never want me, now.” She shakes her head, furious. “I had him right where I wanted him!”
I frown. “You wanted him to call you a whore?”
Tears streak down her face. “I’m sending you away. I can’t deal with you. You’re a menace. How am I meant to live my life, with a son like you?”
“Sending me away?”
“Boarding school. Summer camp. The military. I don’t give a shit, I can’t take care of you anymore!”
Beth’s soft voice jerks me back to reality. “Come on, honey. Take the pills.”
“Why d’you call me that?”
“Because you’re so sweet,” she says dryly, trying to hand me the tablets.
I pull away. “Is Cami okay?”
She sighs. “Of course.”
“I’m gonna check on her.” I try to sit up.
She puts her hand on my shoulder and pushes me back into bed. “Nope, you are not.”
“She’s okay?” God, my head. I sink into the pillows. The darkness in the room presses down on me. My ears feel like they’re full of static.
“Do migraines affect your memory?”
I nod and instantly regret it. “Why?”
“That’s like, the tenth time you’ve asked me if she’s alright.”
“I know that,” I groan, rubbing my temples. “It only takes a second for something to happen to her.”
She hesitates, like she’s trying to think of what to say. “Okay. Hang on.” She pats my chest and slides off the bed, heading back out of the room. I squeeze my eyes shut, gritting my teeth against another wave of pain.
I hate this. Lying in bed like a damn invalid, while my nanny flutters around me with painkillers and glasses of water. You’d think I was the kid she’s looking after, not my daughter.
My daughter.
Every time I even think those words, I feel like I’ve been jabbed with a cattle prod. I have a daughter. A child. I’m a dad.
I want to cry.
God, I can’t do this. I can’t do this at all. I want to rip my own head off. The pile of baby books I bought online sit on my desk, laughing at me.
The bedroom door opens again, and I hear Beth’s light footsteps approach the bed.
“Here,” she says softly. “You want to hold her?”
I squint my eyes open. She’s holding a very sleepy-looking Cami. My baby is frowning around the dark room, her tiny pink lips parted. I feel a wrenching tug of emotion in my ribcage. She’s so gorgeous I can hardly look at her.
“So much,” I whisper, reaching for her. Beth passes her over, and I pull her carefully against my chest, wrapping her up in my arms.
Cami blinks up at me sleepily. Her mouth turns down, and I brace myself for her to start crying again. Instead, she just yawns, fists a hand in my shirt, and cuddles into me, her heavy eyelids drooping shut.
I curve a hand behind her head, holding her close. My heart is hammering. Tears blur my eyes, and I can’t even pretend I’m crying because of the pain.
Beth perches on the edge of the mattress. “I don’t understand you at all, Sebastian.”
I press my cheek against Cami’s head, breathing in her scent. She snuggles into me, her fat cheek squished against my shirt, and my heart breaks.
I’m going to have to let her go. I can’t look after her. It’s the right thing to do. But, God, I don’t think I’ll ever get over it. I’ll miss this kid until the day I die.
“I love you,” I tell my daughter. Tears roll down my cheeks, melting into her hair. “I’m so sorry. I wish I could keep you. I wish I could do it.”
