Don't Be Afraid Read Online Free

I’ll let you know about the care package later today.” He nodded briefly to both of us. “Take care. I’ll see you both later,” he added, and smiled a smile I had to admit was warm.
    I’d made it. I was going home. But I had won a battle, not the war. I had to convince the social worker to let me be under Dr Robertson’s care, then convince Dr Robertson I didn’t need to be seen – that would be near impossible, so I might as well resign myself to a visit from her and be prescribed pills for imaginary migraines.
    Most of all, I had to keep my promise to Angus – that I would take the medication. I couldn’t let Angus down, I couldn’t. My heart began to pound again as I pictured myself sitting at the kitchen table, those terrible white pills in front of me . . .
    â€œSo, it’s sorted,” he said weakly.
    And now we were alone again, Angus and I. He sat on the edge of my bed, with his five o’clock shadow and his hair sticking up on one side. He looked immensely old and just like a little boy at the same time.
    I love you , I thought, but somehow I couldn’t say – I was too ashamed. It seemed like a contradiction – I love you, but I’m putting you through this.
    No, I couldn’t say it, not then.
    At least if the tests went well, I had only one night to spend in hospital. It made me feel a bit calmer, that there would only be one sleepless night in here – watching the tops of the trees sway from the hospital window, gazing into the night, seeing it bleed into dawn. And then it would be morning and then they’d do the rounds and sign me off and then I could go home. If I closed my eyes I could picture my house, my bedroom . . .
    Wait. There was somebody there, somebody who wasn’t Angus or Morag. In my house, I mean. Or at least, there had been while I was lying semi-conscious in the unmade bed, among the orange pills. It was a vague memory, something I couldn’t completely recall . . .
    â€œAngus,” I began, and then, as I assembled the thoughts, an image exploded in my mind. The memory came back, whole and disconcerting.
    In my mind’s eye, I saw the woman who’d come to visit me – I recalled her hand in my hair, the way her voice had slowed my heart. Her mossy eyes, her calm, calm smile – and then sleep, and the first peaceful dream I’d had in a long time. The ponds of shimmering water and the multicoloured clouds. The sense of contentment.
    â€œThere was someone with me,” I said tentatively.
    â€œEarlier on? A nurse, you mean?”
    â€œNo. I mean at the house. A woman was inside the house, in our bedroom. I don’t know who she was.”
    â€œIt must have been Morag. She found you.” He rubbed his eyes with his hands once again – every gesture suggested his lack of sleep.
    â€œNo, it wasn’t Morag. It was someone else.”
    â€œA paramedic, maybe . . . Or either you were dreaming.”
    I thought for a moment. Of course, I must have been dreaming, or hallucinating. And still, it had felt so real. “Angus?”
    â€œYes, my love,” he leaned towards me and caressed my face in a way that broke my heart – how, how could I make him suffer this way?
    â€œI won’t try it again,” I said. The words came out by themselves, from the bottom of my soul. In my husband’s eyes I had seen a reason to live, a reason to be.
    He placed a light kiss on my forehead. “Bell?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œHow do I know you’re telling the truth?” he asked, and his face was so full of pain, I couldn’t take it. He was desperate for a promise. And I could , yes, I could promise. Because I really, really, really wanted to try to live. Most of all, I didn’t want to hurt him, ever again.
    â€œBecause I promise you,” I said, and I meant it. Unexpectedly, unbelievably, I meant it. I’d gone from despair at being alive to