The first time I met her, I had no idea who she was. I was exhausted from the transfer from Walford, ready to crawl into my bed without a second thought. But as she stepped into H2 and spoke to Maxine, I felt her eyes on me. I tried to avoid her gaze; it felt agonising that someone wanted to focus on me that intensely when I wasn’t even speaking to her. I looked up, thinking she’d finally left the unit, but I was shocked to find her still standing there; even at a distance, her eyes were shockingly blue.
The first time she made me angry took me by surprise. I had been trying to enjoy a peaceful shower, something that was hard to come by. I could feel her gaze on me; no one had looked at me the way she did since Harry, and I felt the need to cover up. I had only meant to ask her a simple question; I surprised myself when I dropped my towel and pinned her up against the wall. This wasn’t me. Who was she? I wanted to know why her words made me feel things I thought I couldn’t.
The first time I played on her emotions was because of Maxine. Maxine told me she had the hots for me, but I didn’t believe her, but I knew that it could work to my advantage in getting Kaz and her crew to back down. When she stepped into my make-shift salon with her cheesy grin and bright blue eyes, I felt my top dog façade melt away a little. It took me by surprise; it had been so long since I had been anything but an inmate, a top dog, I forgot there was once another side of me.
The first time she made me feel inadequate was in front of Boomer. As she talked to her about sex, I felt my cheeks redden, and I wanted to hide away, but there wasn't anywhere for me to run to. I was far from a prude, but I had always felt like sex was something to talk about privately. Still, it intrigued me that she felt no shame in talking about it publicly. When she later came to me and apologised, I couldn’t verbally explain why I had reacted the way I did, but I think deep down, she understood.
The first time she asked about my daughter made me nervous. We were in the slot next to each other, I knew her questions were innocent, but opening up to anyone was scary for me. She seemed so intrigued by my daughter, wanting to know everything. I knew I could talk about Debbie until sleep consumed me, so I did. She listened intently, laughing at the funny stories and offering her condolences when they were needed. I felt at peace talking about Debbie; it had been so long since I had done so as freely as I did with her.
The first time she caught me with my trousers down was at one of my lowest points. Everything had become too much, but the blade against my skin reminded me how to feel. As the blood trickled from the wound, she walked in. I was embarrassed, but she sat with me, and she didn’t say a word. I let the tears flow freely as she held the soft, damp cloth to my thigh. Anyone else would have judged me, and I don’t know why she didn’t. I had no idea how, but she saw past my façade as top dog.
The first time she touched me, her fingers left goosebumps in their wake. We had been hiding out in the equipment room; I’d finally felt comfortable with kissing her when her hand snaked under my top. Shivers made their way down my spine, and I was surprised that I didn’t jump from her embrace. Her fingernails grazed underneath my bra; I liked it, and I had no idea how to ask for more. As she kissed down my neck, I felt butterflies in my stomach and arousal pool in my pants; no one had ever made me feel like this.
The first time she betrayed me, I’d never felt so hurt. I felt used yet again. What hurt more was that even though I told her to stay away, I missed her. As she paraded around the compound, high as a kite, my heart broke even more; for myself, and for her. I had to stay angry, if I didn’t, I knew my resolve would break, and I would welcome her back in my arms willingly. She hurt me, and now it was time for me to hurt her, even if it meant I never got to touch her again.
The first time I lost her, I’d never felt so angry. We had just gotten started again. I had forgiven her because I knew people had deliberately kept the truth from me. I’d felt at home back in her arms, the way she touched me, the way she kissed me, I had never felt so safe before. Now, all that was all taken away, because of me. I killed her. Seeing her in the showers, lifeless, reminded me of Debbie. Everyone I loved was being taken from me because of drugs, and I had no idea how to stop it.
The first time I knew I’d see her again, I was content. Pain coursed through my body as the screwdriver pierced my skin over and over; I would take this pain over the agony of never seeing her again a million times over. This was for my love, for her, we would be together again; and Debbie would be there too. When I fell to the ground, I felt untroubled; I knew the seahorses in the sky would guide me back to her. As the dark began to envelop me, I was content in the love she had given me.