A Billion Reasons To Hate You

Chapter Two: TIA.

Fear hit Renee so hard that it knocked the air out of her. She couldn’t stand still. She kept pacing the apartment, her hands were trembling, and her chest was squeezing tight like something was sitting on it. Her thoughts tangled together and came spilling out before she could control any of them.

“Ten thousand in debt and a psycho drug dealer who wants my head being released from prison when he should be serving life. Amazing. Just wonderful.”

She dragged both hands through her hair. “What if he knows where I live? What if he knows where Mom lives? Oh f**k, what am I going to do? What the hell am I supposed to do?”

She kept pacing, circling the same four feet of floor like she could outrun her own thoughts. Her stomach flipped over itself, her heartbeat going wild in his chest. Everywhere she looked, it felt like the walls were closing in.

“s**t… s**t… s**t—” She pressed her palms to her face, her breathing teetering on the edge of hyperventilation.

Her phone alarm snapped her out of the spiral, the sharp chime reminding her she had three hours to get to work. She didn’t have time for this. Not now. Falling apart wasn’t going to cover her mom’s medical bills or chip away at her debt.

There was no way she could turn up to work looking wrecked and shaking, either. They'd send her home on sight, and she couldn't afford that either.

Renee forced one deep breath into her lungs and then another in an attempt to calm herself. Her voice was still trembly when she muttered to herself, “Get it together.”

She headed for the bathroom. She needed something hot and grounding: anything to stop her brain from shredding itself before she’d even stepped out the door to start her day.

She sat in the bath for what felt like hours, holding her phone just above the water, scrolling aimlessly through social media, desperate for anything to distract her. The surrounding water was growing colder by the second.

Red dye bled from her hair, drifting down her skin in thin ribbons before swirling into the tub. Mascara streaked her cheeks, dark lines carved down her face like she’d been crying—even though she hadn’t shed a single tear.

As the clock on her phone hit midnight, a new automated email slid to the top of her screen, snagging her attention. She tapped it open.

Miss Carrington, we tried to take payment to settle your debt of $230,392, but it was declined. Could you update the insurance details as soon as possible? Or call 02100 329929 to set up a payment plan. There may be delays to Maud Carrington’s treatment otherwise. Many thanks — St. Helena’s University Hospital.

Debt at twenty-seven shouldn’t have felt like a death sentence, but it did, and as she went over each word restlessly, everything just kept unravelling faster. The words seemed to tick like a clock, each second louder than the last. Her mother’s life was hanging in the balance of numbers she had no power to change.

She set her phone face down and sank lower into the bath, her body numb, her mind drowning under the weight of one bad thing after another.

After a while, her phone buzzed again, vibrating against the wooden board stretched across the bath beside a candle and the half-finished glass of wine she’d been nursing.

Renee ignored it, pressed the button on the side, setting it to silent. She closed her eyes, trying to drift into nothing.

A few seconds later, the phone buzzed again. Her jaw tensed as she submerged herself further into the water.

When the third message came through a few moments later, her panic spiked as thoughts of her mom pressed in.

What if something had gone really wrong at the hospital? What if she needed further treatment and they refused her?

Renee sank beneath the surface, letting the water close over her head. She stayed there, holding herself down until her lungs screamed and forced her back up for air.

Renee burst to the surface, gasping, her body trembling as it tried to drag in air. She snatched the black towel from the bath’s edge, drying her hands quickly before reaching for the phone.

Three messages lit up the screen. All from Evan.

Soooo… Hey Ren I don’t

Sorry, hit send by accident, hey Ren. I know we ended on bad terms, and what I did was pretty f****d up, but I’m hoping from the bottom of my heart you’ll help me out. I need to borrow 10k.

I know it’s a huge ask, especially after everything I did, it just got too much, and you literally ignored me for over a year… I have needs too, you know? Surely you understand the feeling of being trapped? Anyway… yeah, if you could help me out this one time, it would be magical, thanks.

Her thumb hovered over the glass, eyes reading through the message over and over again. She let out a bitter little laugh. He actually sounded pathetic.

“Help you out this one time? Please. Dating you was a whole f*****g charity event on its own,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Renee set her phone down on the board face down again and sank back into the cold water, closing her eyes. She tried again to push Evan out of her head, to quiet the echo of his words, but it was nearly impossible.

The phone vibrated again, insistent and demanding. She cracked one eye open, almost trying not to see who it was, but instinct took over. She flinched when she grabbed it and saw St. Helena’s University Hospital glowing on the screen.

“Uh, hello?”

“Hi, Miss Carrington. The results came back. Your mother had a TIA. It's basically a mini stroke. We’ve given her a prescription for blood thinners and sent her home in a taxi.”

Renee straightened, her hands tightening against the tub. “A… a mini stroke?” Her voice cracked, and she had to swallow before whispering, “Is she okay? Is she stable?”

“Yes,” the nurse replied gently. “She’s stable for now. She’ll need rest, and someone should check on her tomorrow if possible.”

Renee exhaled shakily, pressing a wet hand onto her forehead. “Right. Yeah. Okay. Thank you for calling.”

Will this ever end?

Renee sighed before downing the rest of the wine. She hauled herself out of the bath and wrapped a towel around her hair and head, damp strands peeking out. She grabbed an almost-empty bottle of moisturiser and rubbed it into her skin, the scent barely there. Her toothbrush scraped across teeth coated in too little toothpaste, the tube almost empty.

She went into the kitchen, stomach growling as she opened the fridge. Empty. She rifled through the shelves, hoping for something, anything, before she had to work for the next sixteen hours.

There was nothing, except a slightly mouldy piece of bread left in a bag on the counter. She picked the mould off, fighting back tears, swallowing the bitter taste with the last bit of pride she could muster.

Panic took over as she started running through every possible option to bail herself out of this mess.

First on the list was Silas, the manager of The Liquid Confidence, the strip club where she worked. He had money and plenty of it—but asking him was like playing with a loaded gun. He’d make her pay it back tenfold, no question.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Hey, Silas… my favourite boss in the whole world,” she said, trying for charm and landing somewhere closer to begging. “Any chance I could get an advance? A loan? Something? Please, man. I’ll work extra hours, smile a little more, whatever you need.”

“Hmmm. You know, that was almost believable, I’ll bite. What’s it worth to you, sweet pea? Say those magic words to Daddy. ” His voice oozed through the phone slowly, and it made her skin crawl.