Introduction Whenever I have told people that I want to spend my life writing books, creating characters and places, they always ask me why. It is said with surprise and sometimes even a hint of disgust. My reaction to their question is usually the same. Why wouldn't I want to be a writer? Imagining your life going in another direction is something most people do. The only difference is that I write it down. Life as a student can be quite dull, with homework to do and assignments to turn in. Wouldn't it be more exciting to travel the world, or enter an alternate universe where all the rules are changed? Through writing, I get a taste of so many different lives and I get to know new people. I get to see new places and learn about different cultures. I can even go back in time and live through the Victorian era.
In this E-book, you will find three short stories and a few poems, which I have wriHen during my time at the University of Winchester. It’s a slice of life with a dark touch, which is what I most often find myself writing. I hope you enjoy my work!
Content Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind
1
Being Trapped Inside Your Own Mind
8
Who Knew It Would Be So Bright Without Blindfolds
9
The Lost Souls Of Children
10
Polaris
11
Kill Me With Kindness
22
A Beautiful Self-Destruction
23
Left Behind
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Veronica L.B
Out of sight, out of mind
Out of sight, out of mind The pub was almost empty. Rachel was seated at the counter, a glass of Chablis in her hand. Her red lipstick had stained the top of the glass, leaving the shape of her boHom lip. It was unusually quiet, except for the sound of distant chaHer and music playing in the background. A group of teenagers walked through the door, their laughter filling the room. The girls wore short skirts or dresses, the fabric clinging to their body like it was holding on for dear life. One of them had a pink banner over her shoulder, with the words ‘Birthday Girl’ printed in white. It didn't take a genius to know they had been drinking before they arrived at the pub, and Rachel suspected the girl had just turned eighteen. It was not that many years ago that Rachel had turned eighteen. She remembered her friends handing her shots throughout the night, and all the sneaking around so she could inhale some of the delicious white powder she had bought from the Boy At The End Of The Street. The group of girls scanned the pub, unable to decide where to sit. “We should stay close to the door, so the boys can find us.” The Birthday Girl said, her cheeks reddening slightly as she spoke.
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Seated close together around the table, they scanned the menu, trying to find a tempting drink. Rachel sipped on her Chablis, while she watched two of the girls approach the counter. They stood huddled together as they waited for the Man Behind The Counter to notice them. One of the girls, the Goldilocks, kept tapping her foot against the floor as she clutched her ID in her sweaty palm. Rolling her eyes, Rachel put her glass down and slipped off the chair. She strode past the girls, who didn't even glance up at her, her high heels tapped against the wooden floor. There was an old jukebox propped against the wall. She popped in 50 pence and pressed a buHon. Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Snow started playing as Rachel turned around. No one lifted their eyes to see who had put on the music, no one even seemed to register the words of the song, drifting across the room. If there was one thing Rachel missed, it was the aHention she had used to receive whenever she walked into a room. Now, even with her beautiful clothes and her gorgeous raven curls, bobbing delicately against her shoulders as she walked, no one noticed her presence. Or perhaps they didn't care.
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She sat down on the chair again and grabbed the glass, more because it felt familiar than because she wanted to drink. The two girls had ordered their drinks, and while waiting, Goldilocks flicked her hair behind her shoulder. In the exact moment as Goldilocks did that, Rachel stretched her hand out, and Goldilocks’ hair got caught in Rachel’s ring. A mix between a gasp and a small scream escaped Goldilocks’ lips. She turned around abruptly to see what had happened. Rachel was prepared to muHer a half-hearted apology but the girl just stared right past her, not interested in anything Rachel had to say.
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The Birthday Girl had requested to hear a song, and the group of girls and boys were now dancing with each other. Two of the girls were pushing their bodies against each other, never taking their eyes of the boys. The boys who seemed to appreciate their intentions joined in. There was a time when Rachel had been like that, drinking every drop of aHention she could get. That was before she had befriended the Boy At The End Of The Street, and goHen special offers on the white powder. She had stopped
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spending time with her friends, too busy doing lines in the basement. No one questioned her irrational behaviour that came as a side effect to her addiction. Her parents blamed it on her age, then they blamed it on each other. One of the boys broke free from the group and made his way towards the counter. He stood close enough for her to smell his sweaty body and the sent of beer as he spoke. He fiddled nervously with his wallet as Rachel watched. His eyes wandered around, but he never let them rest on her. Her lips curled into a smile. His young-boy charm amused her. The clink of glass against wood called for his aHention. He pushed the money across the counter and grabbed the beer. His right foot kicked accidentally against the bar stool, forcing him to make a sudden move as he aHempted to obtain his balance. Liquid came splashing out of the glass, landing in Rachel’s lap. Drawing a sharp breath as the cold beer soaked through the fabric of her beautiful gown, she looked up in anger. The boy muHered the word shit before he hurried back to his friends, without as much as a sorry. She leaned over the counter and grabbed a napkin that she proceeded to dab over the stain. Clumsy Boy stood next to a girl, pointing towards Rachel.
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The girl looked right at her and laughed while leHing her hand slide up and down Clumsy Boy’s arm. There was nothing to do but give a good eye-roll. Confrontations with teenagers were beyond her. “I don’t feel so well.” Birthday Girl announced before pushing past her friends and heading straight for the bathroom. The door to the bathroom crashed against the wall, followed by a piercing scream. Everyone stopped what they were doing, including Rachel. Two of the Birthday Girl’s friends rushed towards her, panic spread across their faces. It didn't take long for them to join her screams. Curiosity got the beHer of Rachel, it always did. That’s why she had tried the white powder in the first place. I just want to try it once, to see what it’s all about, she had told herself. Two weeks later she never went anywhere without it. Pushing herself up from the stool, Rachel strode towards the group that had formed around the bathroom door. Her green gown touched the floor, dragging like a veil behind her. All that could be heard at that moment was the clicking of her high heels against the wood. The Birthday Girl was crying violently, black mascara running down her cheek. The others tried to comfort her, though they seemed to be in a state of
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shock themselves. Rachel could not think of a single thing that could awaken a reaction like that. Rachel slid between the girls and peered inside the bathroom. She didn't scream and she didn't cry, at least not out loud. Her heartbeat sped up, hammering against her chest like her heart was trying to break free from her body. A drop of blood fell from her nose as she watched the horror in front of her. Then came the excruciating pain in her chest. On the back of her neck, she felt the warm air of someone breathing heavily. Her head craned backwards, where she saw the Boy At The End Of The Street. He was biting his lip nervously, his hand ďŹ ddling with the white powder Rachel knew he had in his pockets. She was supposed to meet him here. She remembered. He had been late, which had made Rachel annoyed. She was particularly angry that day. He had promised her he would get her more of the white powder the day before, but she hadn't been able to reach him. He told her to meet him at the pub at eight. One hour later and there was still no sign of him. Impatiently she had made her way to the bathroom, lining up the rest of her white powder. Then she had felt the same pain as she was feeling now.
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Rachel looked back at the body on the bathroom floor. Her body. Except it looked nothing like her. She had dark circles beneath her eyes. Her face was thin, lips dry, and there was blood running from her nose, staining her baggie t-shirt. The Boy At The End Of The Street backed away from the crowd, drawing his hoodie to cover himself up. Without so much as a second look he walked out of the pub. It became difficult to stand. Like she was drunk, Rachel stumbled over to her body, falling to the floor. She would have cried if she thought it would help, but what was the point? It was too late. She took a hold of her own hand, feeling the cold seep through her body. The Man Behind The Counter was looking down at her, phone in hand. That was the last thing she saw before she closed her eyes.
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Veronica L.B
Being Trapped Inside Your Own Mind Heartbeat racing through your body legs move beyond control, arms spread wide retract to protect, razor sharp twigs claw and grasp. Stumbling through, slipping on wet moss, blinded by thick fog, grabbed by strong hands, metallic taste, raw cuts, all burns, all hurts, stench of decay, lost hope, eyes closed, drift away Tug and pull, a voiceless scream day in, day out long buried, forgoHen pleads the sharp edge penetrates skin, red liquid rushing pushing, forcing, release desperation with no motion, mercy, no mercy for the forgoHen
 
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Who Knew It Would Be So Bright Without Blindfolds Torment built a wall for miles around me, with a wrecking ball you found your way through, crumbling the wall to dust. I lost my individuality as two became one intertwined and tangled like yarn, my devotion to you never ending, and never questioned. Front row point of view I watched you destroy my timid heart, showering me with a beastly anger left untamed. I wanted to frolic in glory, instead I buckle in shame. She carelessly oered physical joy, and like a cheap rubber toy you both bounced my heart around. There is a clinical silence and an unspoken name, as I try to grow a spine and leave you. With persuasive liHle lies you try to deceive, telling me everything gets beHer, but hatred grows like cancer. Unprepared for the choice to stay, you made the decision. How do we dare share a bed again, when you distribute blame? I tasted the ďŹ res of hell, as I clawed my way through. I left with a bulging heart-shaped scar
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The Lost Souls of Children Yours were subtle, painful betrayal, a mother who applied the same rules to her kid’s body as her own. exhausted frail starving Hollow eyes, circled with black stares at you, raw-boned back, ribs as sharp as knives and wrists that could break with a single touch. faulty lonely terrified You draw a perfectly imperfect line, lovers lining up at the doorstep staining your kids with their alcoholic breaths. grief-stricken anxious broken I find myself out on the ledge, you pushed me in the direction and I was not far away from stepping off
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Veronica L.B
Polaris
Polaris On her twenty-fourth birthday, Caroline had goHen on a bus with no destination in mind. Her mother had called her earlier that morning to congratulate and ask what she planned to do on this special day. A lie had sprung up before she could think it through. “Just having a few friends over,” she’d said, and her mother had seemed content with that answer. In reality, the few friends she had didn’t know today was her birthday, she had made sure of it. She didn’t fancy having a party where all the aHention was on her. So she left. The plan was to sit quietly somewhere and read a book. When she had opened up the doors to the cafe it was nearly empty. She found a table furthest away from the counter and sat down, digging up the book from her bag. Before she had the chance to read the first page a man had wandered over to her table, standing awkwardly by the empty chair in front of her. She glanced up from her book and his shoulders relaxed as their eyes met. He was handsome with his dark, curly hair and trimmed beard. “Mind if I sit?” he said, his blue eyes vibrant and daring.
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Taken by surprise all she could do was shake her head. “Go ahead,” she added, but immediately regreHed it afterwards. Now she would have to sit awkwardly across from him, politely ignoring him as she tried to read. “You’re not geHing anything?” “Not yet,” she replied shortly. She wasn’t used to people being so forthcoming with her, but a part of her liked it. “How about a cappuccino?” He was still standing by the chair, his hand resting casually on the back. She nodded again, and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly. He had been so charming with his shy smile, and what had seemed like genuine interest in her life, and though she had been withdrawn at first, she had started to slowly open up to him. For hours they had sat across from each other, laughing, sharing, connecting. Caroline looked at her watch taken aback at how long they had been there. He had refilled her cup twice, but after she had finished the last cup, she had started to feel exhausted. “Can I take you somewhere?” he said, cocking his head to one side, his brows wrinkled together in concern.
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“Home is good.” She let him take her hand, feeling the warmth spreading through her as he led her to his car. She hadn't even considered the fact that he was a stranger. She had got in his car and given him directions to her house, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep. Caroline had woken up once, her head resting uncomfortably on her shoulder. For a minute she thought her vision had been compromised because all she could see was darkness. Then she saw a faint light just within sight from the car window, and she recognised it. She could see the big dipper formed like a disproportionate square, and the three stars coming together as a handle. In her mind, she drew a line through the stars Merak and Dubhe searching for the Polaris star. She caught sight of it, lighting up the night sky, and it was beautiful. Her mind was still blurry, but if she had been more alert she would have wondered where she was, and why it was so dark outside. Her head felt heavy as she turned it slightly to glance at the driver. The man who had bought her coffee looked at her and smiled. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Where is ‘there’?” she said, her words sluggish and barely comprehensible.
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“Home,” he said, reaching out to touch her cheek. He gently turned her head back to look at the stars. Then she felt a sharp sting in her left arm and the last thing she saw before she drifted back into sleep was the magnificent Polaris star.
————
When Caroline had woken up her world had been etched in charcoal, as if every colour and light in the world had dissolved. She had always been fond of the dark, enjoying the quiet that fell when people went to sleep. Ever since she had turned seventeen, she had snuck out of the house, walked for thirtyfive minutes and sat on a bench to stargaze. When she had started at the university, studying astronomy, her interest had grown. She had finally felt like she belonged somewhere, siHing amongst people who shared her passion, talking for hours about how they apply physics to understand astronomical problems. She had finished her bachelor and master degree and was currently working on her doctorates, but she wouldn’t finish it.
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Polaris
There was a blanket wrapped around her from her waist down, but her arms and fingers were freezing. She sat up, squinting her eyes through the darkness. Her hands shot up in front of her, waving around to feel her surroundings. She sat on a thin maHress placed directly on the floor. The tiles were cold to the touch, but still, she took one cautious step after another. After six small steps her palms touched the smooth surface of wallpaper. An image of the tall stranger from the coffee shop popped up in her mind and she almost screamed. He must have slipped something in my coffee, she thought, panic soaking through her. She ran her fingers frantically through her hair, ignoring the pain as she accidentally tugged too hard. Blinking hard over and over again, she tried to force her eyes to adjust, but there was no use. She couldn’t see anything. Her heart began thumping even harder against her chest, her breathing uneven. Palms pressed flat against the wall she felt her way around for the door. Her liHle finger knocked against the handle, but she knew it would be locked before she began tugging and pulling. Her lips started to tremble and she could feel her cheeks geHing wet, salty drops gathering at the corner of her mouth. Hands gathered into fists and she slammed them against the door in anger.
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It burst open and she took a step back. His pale skin was surrounded by shadows and she could barely make out his face. He was carrying a small flashlight in his hand and when he pointed it in Caroline’s direction she had to shield her eyes. “How are you feeling?” he said stepping closer to her and shuHing the door behind him. “I thought we could pick out some new furniture for our home.” He shoved a catalogue from Ikea in her hands and motioned for her to sit on the maHress. All she could do was stare at him in horror. “Take your time.” The flashlight was put down on the floor between them before he left her alone again.
————
When Caroline had first moved out from her parent’s house, she had wanted to decorate it in a special way. She didn’t want what everyone else had, she wanted originality. Hours had been spent at second-hand shops, where she had found a round mirror with a beautiful, big frame, with leaves carved on the edges.
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She had thought that he would eventually take her upstairs, maybe show her the furniture she had chosen, or have her cook for him. For nine years Caroline had spent her days staring blankly ahead, only allowing the faint light of the flashlight to shine when he brought her dinner. She was used to not being able to see, and she sometimes preferred to sit in the dark. He was talking to her like a loving husband but treating her like an unwanted truth, kept locked away in his darkest place. He had made her write lists of books she wanted to read and brought her pictures of how it looked in the bookshelves she had picked out. The tears had stopped coming, and all she felt was numb. Still, there was one thing he hadn’t been able to pry away from her: her will to live.
————
When he had brought her breakfast that morning he had almost seemed nervous. Caroline had switched on the flashlight and when she saw the piece of bread shaped like a star her breath caught in her throat.
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She kept quiet, waiting for him to explain and when he finally did she felt sick. “It’s been eleven years since we met today,” he said handing her the paper plate.
When he left she sat staring at the awkward lines of the star, and for the first time in years she felt wet tears grazing her cheeks. For eleven years she had sat patiently waiting, and that calmness she had harnessed scared her. Perhaps it meant that a part of her had already given up. It had to be today. Though she had lost all sense of time after being down there for too long, she knew it wouldn't be too long before he showed up with a paper plate with bread, jam and cheese. She stood by the wall next to the door, one palm pressed against it, the other clutched around the flashlight. When she heard footsteps coming from the stairs, her eyes became alert. Over the years she had imagined so many ways she could escape, how she could try to kill him with the paper plate he served her meals on. Now that she was ready to try, her heart was pounding and her palms felt sweaty.
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The locks raHled on the other side of the door and he would be next to her within seconds. When the door pushed open and he stepped inside, she swung the flashlight as hard as she could, hiHing him at the side of the head. He fell to his knees and she didn’t have time to think, she just ran. The stairs were close by and she climbed up, scraping her feet in the process. The light from upstairs was hurting her eyes, and she had to squint, finding it hard to keep them open for too long. She heard grunting as he moved towards the stairs, following her. The kitchen was in front of her and she ran, desperately needing protection. A knife was placed on the counter, next to the bread, and she grabbed it and circled back to the living room. By the time she was across the room she saw him, walking slowly towards her. Backing away, she found herself pressed against the bookshelf, knife pointing towards him. Her breathing was rapid, but inside her mind she felt a calmness spread. She had goHen this far and now one of them had to die. Caroline met his eyes, drew a deep breath and leapt.
————
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She sat on the couch, looking out at the powder falling from the sky, covering the town like a white blanket. It had been snowing since yesterday evening, and by now it was ankle deep. She knew because she had wandered out to get the mail, almost catching a cold in the thirty-seconds she was out. Her purple boots were placed in front of the heater to dry and had already created a massive wet stain on her new carpet. Caroline had a mug placed between her palms. It was scolding hot, yet she seemed not to notice the pain. She would eventually, of course, when the blisters started to break out from her skin. There was not a sound present around her. No statics from the tv, or distant voices on the radio. She knew the adults around her neighbourhood preferred to stay inside whenever there was snow, and it was too late for the kids to play outside in the streets. Even if there had been people running around outside her house, she wouldn't have been worried about anyone seeing her. The living room was darkly lit, only small candles placed at random, creating a hollow feeling where light is precious.
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When she had first walked up the stairs, her feet scraping against the rough flooring, she could barely keep her eyes open as she saw the bright light streaming through the windows. Now, her eyes had adjusted, and even if they hadn’t, she would still know exactly what surrounded her. In front of her was a white coffee table, cheap and mass-produced. There was nothing original about the house, no authentic pieces of furniture and no vintage decorations coming together to celebrate a unique room. The window to the left, which was facing the streets, was frosted on the boHom half so that it was nearly impossible to see through. Behind her were bookshelves filled with books she never had and never would read. Then there was the couch. It had been so beautiful in the picture. A nice shade of grey, as a start to the vintage feel she wanted for the living room, but how uncomfortable it was to sit in. She would have known had she been able to go to the store and try it.
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Kill Me with Kindness Crystal flakes are descending, doHing the naked trees along the edges. You say “that’s not the snow I want”, as you roll a piece of paper. You bend over the white powder, and inhale sharply. “Show me that you love me”, you say and give me the paper, and I do. I do. Being with you is like siHing through a Twilight Marathon, all sparkles and self-loathing. You chase me away with harsh words, but I always find my way back to you. We are both addicts, you crave your snow, and I ache for you. A dangerous aHachment, Slowly exterminating my being.
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A Beautiful self-destruction Beauty is not what they say, a turn of the page leads to self-hatred the more you heal, the worse it hurts Hunger used to drive you, now you are starving for perfection and you get dark only to shine Skin and bones protects you, but it is withering away now the trees are bare She lets her emotions go, and meets her demise cold as ice she remains
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Left Behind
Left Behind Thomas had woken up early that morning. He had toasted a piece of bread with buHer and jam and poured himself a cup of coffee, which still sat untouched on the kitchen table. His wife, Bella, was still sound asleep, her hand curled underneath the pillow, toes sticking out of the duvet. He had wanted to go over and kiss her on the forehead, but he was afraid he would wake her. The kids wouldn't be up for at least an hour. He stood by the door looking at them through the faint morning light. His youngest was snoring lightly, lips parted and arms sprawled over his head. During the night he had kicked his duvet halfway to the floor and now it was only covering his left leg. Thomas looked at his watch and knew that he had to leave if he was going to make it to work. In the narrow hallway, he stepped into his brown derby shoes and pulled on his camel overcoat. He grabbed his briefcase, which was packed with papers for today’s meeting. It was a short walk to Queensbury station where he had to take the Jubilee line to Bond Street. The station was mostly quiet at this time, only a few others like him who were geHing to work early. He knew it would be worse
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when he was geHing on the Central line to Chancery Lane, it was almost always packed with people no maHer what time of the day it was. Thomas sat down next to a young man who was nervously checking his watch. He was at least ten years younger than Thomas and had probably just started a new job. It was almost twenty years since Thomas had begun working at Irwin Mitchell as a divorce lawyer, but he could still remember how nervous he had been on his first official day. Now, everything with work was a habit. He would come in early, pour a cup of coffee and sit by his desk for a couple of hours. He usually took on three or four clients at a time, which meant that he was stuck in meetings on most days. A rumbling sound from the tracks filled his ears, followed by the hiss of the train’s brakes. People quickly began to line up, ready to jump on board the minute the doors opened. Thomas was the last to enter but had no problems finding a seat. There was a young woman in her early thirties with her daughter siHing across from him. Her hair was gathered in a loose bun, strands falling from both sides lightly touching her face, and her eyes looked red and raw with grey circles underneath. He watched as the liHle girl leaned her head against her mother’s shoulder and reached out to hold her hand, and even though she
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Left Behind
was exhausted and upset, she smiled down at her liHle girl with nothing but love. When his children had been around that age, they had loved cuddling up to him, always holding his hand or curling up in his lap. Now he was lucky if they spared him ten minutes of their day. Thomas would always leave early for work and come home late, missing dinner time with his family. Though the kids were still young, they understood what was going on at home. Ever since the ďŹ ghting had become a regular thing, they had found new excuses to stay away from him. He had seen it countless of times in his meetings at work, children picking sides. Once a child lost respect for a parent, it was hard to get it back. Bella was a stay at home mum, had been since the birth of their daughter, Laura. She was there when the children needed help with their homework, there to comfort them when they were scared or hurt. But they needed food on the table and money for clothes and birthday presents, so he worked a lot. Now more than ever, because the thought of going home became more diďŹƒcult with each day that passed. He loved his wife more than anything in the world, but somewhere along the way, that hadn’t been enough. Bella had wanted space, but neither of
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them could afford to get a new place, so he had taken the couch. Then he had taken extra shifts at work, staying in his office as much as he could. Finally, when she had stopped looking at him outside their fights, he had dragged himself to pubs, geHing on the last train that would take him home.
————
There had been a death in the underground, suicide they said. Thomas had walked off the train at the Oxford Circus station and hailed a taxi to work. Sat in front of a blank document, Thomas was unable to start typing. All he could think about was the man who had goHen up this morning, put on his clothes, gone to the station and jumped in front of a train. He was stuck with a sick curiosity that told him to find out as much as he could about this man. What had made him do it? What had gone through his head as he stood by the edge ready to leap? Had it hurt? He thought about Bella and the kids and wondered if he would have been able to leave them like that. The answer was unknown, which almost scared him more. He sipped the coffee he had made when he came into work, but it was cold with a biHer taste.
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GeHing up from his seat, he walked out the glass door in his office, down the hall and took a left. The office kitchen was quiet, but there was steam floating up from the keHle indicating that someone had been there recently or that someone was coming back to fill their cups soon. Thomas didn’t want to stay too long in case he ran into someone who might want to talk to him. Pouring the rest of the coffee in the sink he placed his mug on the counter and headed back to his office. His only client for the day had called him up earlier and cancelled their appointment, and now he wasn’t sure how he could make the day last longer. He opened Safari on his computer and typed in ‘London underground suicide, 2016’, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. There were multiple articles about people who had been unable to handle what the world had thrown their way. He clicked on a few of them, feeling his mood sink with each word he read, yet he couldn’t stop. The stories of people who had witnessed these horrible events, tube drivers who had seen the jumpers up close, families who were left with no explanations as to why their loved ones would do such a thing. It all wiggled its way through him till he felt like he was drowning in a sea of grief.
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A soft knock on the door called his aHention away from the screen, and he automatically closed the tabs as if he was afraid of geHing caught. Tori, one of his colleagues stood on the other side of the glass. She lifted her hand, which held his mug and smiled shyly. Thomas waved her in, trying his best not to look as depressed as he felt. He wondered what it was that made people want to read or see sad things when they felt down. It was as if his own depression wasn’t enough, he needed more, he needed to see the pain of others and let it seep through him so that things could be worse than it was. Tori opened the door and slipped inside offering him his mug that was now filled with boiling hot coffee. He placed the mug on the desk, next to his keyboard and motioned for her to sit across from him. He didn’t really want the company, but it would be rude to send her away now. She slid down in the chair, crossed her legs and nervously tugged at the hem of her black pencil skirt. Her auburn hair fell in ringlets down to her shoulders, framing her heart-shaped face. Her prominent eyes, electric blue and full of hope, stared at him in expectation. As she looked at him her defined lips, shaded in dark brown, lifted slightly in the corners forming a shy smile. “How are you?” She said, moving her right hand up to rest on her cheek.
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“I’m fine,” he answered shortly. “Because you can talk to me, you know?” She looked at him a moment longer before shifting her focus to the picture of him and his family. He followed her gaze and felt a stab of pain as he saw the smiling face of his wife, her hands wrapped around his waist. Her words floated in the air for a moment before he could form a reply. “You know?” He wanted to say more, but he couldn’t make himself speak the words out loud. He knew it had been a maHer of time before his colleagues found out that something was wrong, but he had hoped he wouldn't have to talk about it. “My roommate usually takes the underground to work, she told me what had happened at the central line today. You’re on the central line too, right?” there was a brief pause, and Thomas could see her thinking carefully about what she would say next. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Thomas stared at her but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m fine,” he repeated. For a moment all that could be heard was the soft humming from his computer. He kept his gaze steady and finally her eyes began to wander. When her electric blue met his eyes he felt something that he hadn’t in months. Completely calm.
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Abruptly she got up from the chair, straightening her blouse and skirt. “Well, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me.” She turned to walk away, her high heels tapping against the floor with each step she took. “Tori,” she twisted her head, looking over her shoulder. Thomas could see a faint pink colour rising to her cheeks and wanted to smile. “Thank you,” he said instead.
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It was a quarter after six pm and Thomas had run out of things to do an hour ago. He knew it was time to leave the office, but he wasn’t ready to go home. He turned off his computer, packed his files from the meeting back in his briefcase and locked up his office. Most of his colleagues had already left, but he could see a light in the distance, and something made him follow it. He stopped outside Tori’s office and tapped his knuckles against the glass. She looked up, surprised to find that someone else was still there. Thomas opened the door before she had a chance to react. “You’re still here,” she said. “You want to get a drink?” he said, ignoring her words.
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She blinked, as if she didn’t understand the question. Then her lips curled into a smile and she nodded. After locking up her office and switching off the lights, she followed Thomas out of the building. Thomas knew that inviting Tori out for drinks was the wrong thing to do. He should have gone home to his wife and tried to fix things. Bella was his everything and if he could make himself, he would take her back, but that wasn’t an option. Bella’s affair had destroyed them both, and he didn’t think he could ever go back to the way things had been before. He knew that a part of him had asked Tori out for a drink to get a sick kind of revenge on Bella, but it was more than that. He hadn’t been happy for months, and seeing Tori show interest in him had made him realise how much he wanted, craved, company.
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Three drinks in and they were talking and laughing together. They sat side by side in a booth, Thomas’ hand wrapped around his empty glass. “It was absolutely horrifying,” Tori said laughing, “my first date and my father made us stay at home and eat dinner with him and mum. Throughout the entire meal, he kept asking all these embarrassing questions and grunting
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loudly when he wasn’t satisfied with the answer. Safe to say there was no second date.” Thomas chuckled, “I’m afraid I might have done the same if my daughter brought a boy home, but hopefully that won’t happen for a while.” “You never know, your daughter is a preHy girl, I’m sure boys are already lining up to get her aHention,” she said with a sly smile. “Don’t even say it, it’s a fathers worst nightmare,” but he wasn’t really worrying about that now. All he could think about was the beautiful woman in front of him. As if Tori could see something in his eyes, she put her hand on top of his, gently moving her thumb from side to side. She slowly leaned closer, like she was waiting for Thomas to stop her, but he didn’t. When their lips met he closed his eyes giving in to the temptation. Her lips parted slightly, inviting him to do the same. She tasted like sweet strawberries, and the hunger inside of him wanted more. He pulled her closer, sliding one hand behind her back and the other brushing through her hair. She pulled back, yet they were only inches apart. He heard his name as a whisper from her lips, and he knew what she was going to say.
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Moments earlier he would have been thrilled to hear the next words, but now it was like a bucket of ice water had been thrown all over his head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you here,” she looked at him questioningly, “I have to go.” Before she could say anything that would persuade him to stay, he got up and left her behind without looking back. There were barely anyone on the train. Only some drunk students siHing further down. Two of them sat close together, the boy’s arms wrapped around the girl’s shoulders. Her head rested on his shoulders, and she was so relaxed that her eyes began to drift into a peaceful sleep.
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The short walk from the station to his house helped to clear his head, but his heart was still aching. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. What worried him most was that he wasn’t sure if he felt stupid for going out with Tori, or for leaving her behind.
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He fished his key from his pocket and twisted it in the lock. The lights were out and he felt relief. As he made his way to the kitchen he rubbed his eyes. He needed water and a good night’s sleep. When he saw the shape of his wife siHing at the kitchen table, surrounded by shadows, he stopped. Bella looked up at him, and though he couldn’t see much, he saw that her face was emotionless. Her shoulders were hanging loosely and she seemed exhausted. When she spoke, he knew she had been crying, and he could feel a twist of pain in his chest. “I want a divorce.” He looked at her for a moment, thinking about all the different things he could have told her. They could work through this. Or they could try spending some time apart and see if that helped. But he was tired, and there was barely any fight left in him. Thomas bit his lips, then let out a breath. “Okay,” he said, and turned away from her, went to the living room and laid down on the couch to sleep. As he laid there, still fully clothed, he could feel the exhaustion slipping away. The splinter that had been stuck in his
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heart for so long had ďŹ nally been removed, and for the ďŹ rst time in so long, he felt relieved.
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