The World Out There - 24. Twenty-Four

Liam sat at the little table in his room in the B&B hotel and pushed another forkful of food into his mouth. It was gone three o’clock and he hadn’t eaten since his breakfast of two dry pieces of toast, at nine o’clock that morning. He didn’t feel hungry - his appetite had vanished hours ago, but he had started feeling tired and light-headed. So ignoring his lack of appetite, he’d cooked his planned meal of sausages and baked beans on toast.

First, he’d fried the sausages in the bottom of his one sauce pan on the single hot plate in his room, having to constantly to turn them around in the small pan to get them browned. Then, once they were finally fried, he added the baked beans from their can to sausages and started to boil them. There, he boiled them until they were a soft mush with the sausages embedded in it. Finally, he toasted two slices of bread in the battered old toaster. He’d bought the bread only three days ago, but already, it had turned dry, unsuitable for anything but toast.

When he’d sat down at his table to eat the food, he’d become aware of how little appetite he had. The food tasted like straw in his mouth, but he still pushed it into his mouth. He knew the foggy/dizziness washing around his head wouldn’t ease unless he ate.

This was his Sunday dinner: sausage and baked beans on toast. It wasn’t the life he’d imagined for himself after he was released from Nurton Cross, but he had barely imagined what his life would be. At Nurton Cross, Sunday dinner had always been a big thing. It was always a roast dinner, though many times it wasn’t the greatest roast dinner, the meat being dry and the vegetables over cooked. But he had always sat at the same table as Ed to eat it. When the food was bad, they would joke and bitch together; when the food was good, then they would enjoy it together. But the best part was that he had Ed there with him.

He missed Ed’s companionship: they had been by each other’s sides for three, four years. They would eat breakfast together, then sit together at lunch and supper. They would watch television together in the ward’s Common Room, or sit together reading in either of their rooms, or else they would walk and sit together in the grounds. The only time they spent apart was when they were having lessons in the Education Centre or when they were sleeping at night, alone in their separate rooms. But when they were together, they were always talking. Even though they spent so much time together, they still managed to find so many things to talk about, and they talked so much. He’d never had anyone in his life before who just wanted not to talk at him, but to talk with him, and he loved it.

When they first met, Ed had talked a lot: he liked talking and conversations, but he didn’t just like the sound of his own voice - he wanted to hear Liam’s opinions and talk with him. Soon, Ed had drawn him into talking and conversations were flowing between them. Previously, it had felt as if people just wanted to talk at him, especially his mother, who only seemed to want to lecture him on his faults and her opinions. No one had seemed interested in listening to him. Even with Chrissy and TJ, he had been more the audience to their friendship and Chrissy’s attraction to TJ. With Ed, it was finally different - Ed wanted to talk with him, and Ed loved to talk.

He’d loved having Ed in his life: Ed had been his first real friend and… No, he shouldn’t remember that, because Ed had now been pulled from his life and he missed Ed so much. He’d written to Ed three times since he left Nurton Cross, three long letters handwritten over many pages of lined A4 paper, spilling out his feelings and how disappointing his life was now, but Ed hadn’t replied to any of them. He knew Ed wasn’t great at writing, but he’d promised Liam that he’d reply to any of Liam’s letters, even if it was a short reply. Therefore, the complete silence from Ed had been so demoralising. Had Ed forgotten about him? Had Ed moved on? Had Ed even liked him originally? He couldn’t stop himself dwelling on the negative - life outside of Nurton Cross had turned out so lonely and isolating.

He pushed the last forkful of his meal into his mouth. He slowly chewed it, slowly moving it around his mouth, trying to grab at some interest in his mind to make him swallow it. Finally, as the food turned into mush in his mouth, he forced himself to swallow it, pushing the food down his throat and feeling it land in his stomach with a leaden thump. Eating that meal hadn’t been satisfying, and certainly not quenched his non-existent hunger. The dizziness in his head was easing, but now he had a solid lump sitting in his stomach which was beginning to cause a nausea to spread out through his body.

He pushed himself up from the table. He intended to return to sitting on the window sill, staring down at the street below, but just stood there now that all seemed so pointless. He could stare down at that street, but he didn’t know if he could physically go down there - the place was no longer safe for him. He wanted this heavy feeling in his body, and the creeping nausea, to leave him. A walk would ease that feeling, to walk off the heaviness in his body, a long walk around the local streets to chase away the listlessness that was constantly pulling at him. He had done it before and it had worked, but not today. He couldn’t risk walking those streets today - he couldn’t risk being recognised again. He’d had a close escape with Kelly and Carter, his sort of neighbours, but he couldn’t risk that again. His luck couldn’t be that good.

He stepped the few steps to his bed and sat down on it. He took a moment to pull off his trainers, before he lay down on his bed, still fully clothed. He wasn’t tired but maybe laying down would help ease the uncomfortable feeling spreading throughout his body. He rested his head down on the bed’s pillow and again curled into the foetal position. Ever since he could remember, he’d slept in the foetal position. Every night he’d spent in Rokeby House, he tried to fall asleep curled up in the foetal position. It was a strangely comfortable position, and when he’d wanted extra comfort, he’d hug his pillow to himself. He’d done that so often as a child after his mother had screamed at him in anger, for whatever reason, and banished him to bed, except it had always been Mr Bear he hugged. He would press his face into the pillow or teddy bear to hide and muffle his tears. Why was he remembering this now? it was years and years ago, another lifetime ago. He closed his eyes and hugged his knees to his stomach.

He hadn’t really known what to expect when he left Nurton Cross. People had talked him through what would happen, mainly Aiden and Dr Sayeed, and he had listened carefully to them. But he also kept remembering his life before Nurton Cross, his life with his mother. Aiden had reassured him that he wasn’t the same person who had lived with his mother.

Donna, his resettlement worker, had flatly told him that his mother had refused to let him come and live with her after his release. He hadn’t been surprised - he had been expecting that.

What had hit him, about life outside Nurton Cross, was how lonely it all was. He hadn’t been the centre of the social life at Nurton Cross, but he’d had Ed and the other people he knew. He knew no one else in the B&B hotel, and neither did he know how to get to know them. He couldn’t just knock on someone’s front door and introduce himself - who did that? But neither did he have any other chances to meet people. His life revolved around his room and shopping for his daily meals.

The loneliness had soon sapped his energy and willpower. He could spend an entire day where the only person he spoke to was the person behind the counter in the local supermarket, and all they ever said to him was how much his purchases would cost. He deeply missed just talking with Ed, those wonderful conversations they’d have, but he also missed Ed’s company. They were so close and so happy in each other’s company and… He missed Ed.

The loneliness was also making him withdraw more and more into himself. His concentration levels were dropping day on day. He had barely read anything since he’d left Nurton Cross, what had once been a lifeline and something that he’d always looked forward to – reading - was now something that he barely had any interest in. Occasionally, he would pick up a book, but his concentration and desire to read would leave him after only a few minutes.

His sole entertainment now was his radio: he played it non-stop when he was in his room, which was most of the time. He wasn’t a fan of any one particular station: he would his turn on and tune it until he found a station that suited his mood at that time. More and more, he had been listening to news stations, the sounds of other human voices filling the room. So often he didn’t even listen to what was being said, just the reassuring sounds of other people talking. But today, even that had been taken away from him. He didn’t dare listen to his radio in case he heard himself being discussed. He knew what they thought of him.

He still had Mark’s Business Card, with Mark’s comment to contact him when he was discharged, but he hadn’t done so. His first week out there, he had told himself to ring Mark so many times, but every time his courage would leave him at the last moment. He only had the number for Mark’s office. What if Mark wasn’t there? What if he had a snooty secretary who demanded to know his business? Who would he say he was? What would he say? He didn’t have a telephone number where he could be contacted. Each time he would approach one of the few public telephone boxes in the area, his courage would leave him at the last moment, replaced by all those unanswered questions, and he’d walk away from the payphone.

By the end of his second week there, he’d given up on the hope of calling Mark. He had left it so long now Mark would think he no longer wanted their friendship, and would Mark even take his call? He had been so stupid and thrown away the good friendship he had with Mark, and he could really do with Mark’s advice and knowledge now.

He stretched for a moment, lying there on his bed, arching his back, stretching out his legs to their full length and raising his hands over his head. He stretched out his muscles to their full extension, and for a moment it felt good, the physical relief from pushing his muscles to their limit, but only for a brief moment. Then he relaxed again and returned to his foetal position on the bed, again pressing his face into his knees.

He wanted to close his eyes and wait for all of this around him to just go away, but that hadn’t worked when he was twelve, how was it going to work now?