Dilemma
Part 1
He was happy, Jovial, boisterous even. He felt a sense of accomplishment and there was a sense of arrogance in his stride. He had no problems, no impending doom on the horizon. He felt energized. He felt free, yet somehow it was accompanied with hollowness. He knew deep down that what he felt was not reality. His mind and senses playing a cruel trick on his body, sheltering it from the harsh reality. He was drunk, though sobering quickly. Too quickly for his liking. His shield was falling, bringing him back from denial. His head was lowered, huddled into his jacket protecting himself from the brutal elements. He had walked for hours, stumbled at times with his head bowed against the bitter wind and sleet rain. He moved blindly, seeing nothing but the damp stained pavements. Yet there was purpose in his movement. His path was clear; he was being drawn back there as though guided by his now returning conscious. He remembered it all, the emotional memories, the pain they caused. Worse than any physical pain that could be inflicted upon him. He snapped suddenly form his reverie. The rain has now ceased to a light, barely viewable drizzle. He looked up suddenly, knew exactly where he was. No one who had walked them could ever forget those cobbles. He loved this street. His family were here. His business that he had worked so hard to keep afloat. Most importantly his son, who many years back he could never imagine he would love as much as he did now. Yes he loved this place. Yet he also hated it, loathed it with passion that came from deep within. So much pain and suffering. The tram crash, Nick and Leanne, burning down the flat with his son inside. Sobering thoughts if ever there were. He let out a single, hearty chuckle at the irony. He'd been gone only the weekend though it seemed longer. He'd hoped for it to be longer. He'd taken off on his drunken crusade intent on causing damage. To himself and anything that stood in his way. Though mainly to himself. He'd wanted to forget his problems. Forget everything. He internally relived his blazing row with Leanne that had caused him to storm off, bottle of vodka in hand. She was upset about fertility and her lack of it. He hadn't shared her pain, hadn't been enthused when discussing alternatives. This wasn't his only problem. There was something else eating away at him. Someone else. Add that to all the bad memories that accompanied the festive season a year prior and it was enough to force him to fall back into his old ways and befriend the bottle. He was a coward and he knew it but the drink was all he could have faith in when things became desperate. It was dark now as he peered above the old brick houses toward the skyline. The consequences of his actions hit him like punch in the gut. The dawning realization made him all too aware of his sobering countenance. He wanted a drink. He needed it. Reaching inside his coat pocket he pulled out the small bottle, a minute amount of clear liquid its remaining contents. His last bottle, his only bottle. He grasped clumsily, causing the bottle to slip from his grasp. His despairing flailing proved fruitless and the glass smattered into tiny pieces littering the pavement. He groaned and leaned forward in an awkward attempt to recover something that was now gone. In doing so, he slipped on a mixture of damp pavement and small glass particles his feet coming from under him. He sat for a while on the cold, unforgiving cobbles not feeling the urge to move or get up. Staring blankly at the broken glass shards. Mourning for that last drop of Vodka now strew across the floor. Left to his thoughts. He was a mess. He needed relief. He needed someone. He needed her. He stood up purposefully, took a last look and strode off away from the street. Again he knew exactly where he was heading.
Part 2
She was perched on the sofa at her flat in a crouching position. Arms wrapped around elevated knees. Alone. Worried. Scared. Confused. Her mind in turmoil. A loud crash from outside. She shuddered. Tensed up. Took deep breaths, remembering the counselling. Her life would be like this for a long time, maybe forever. People told her she would come through it, live a normal life again. She saw no light. No Horizon. No warmth. She thought about it less now. But still too much. She hated it. Hated him. With every fibre. Hated herself. Despised this weakness. She shook her head violently and slapped at her face lightly as though all that she suffered could be simply disposed of this way. She wished she was at work. Although the factory provided as many painful reminders as the flat, she could get away from it there. She was in her element. She was great at her job and she was at ease around her workforce. She moved with great poise and confidence. During the day there, it felt like her safety bubble. Life was bearable within the confines of Underworld. The outside world was different. The poise evaporated turned to apprehension. Confidence to dread. She was comfortable around a select inner circle though she engaged in other social interaction with an underlying sense of fear and trepidation. With one exception. Someone else made her feel at ease. Secure. Safe. He made her feel that way. Thinking about him hurt too. Though a different type of pain. An aching. A longing. The thought of him tonight stung her too. Deep foreboding. Senseless worry. For Peter. She was acutely aware of his weekend absence. She'd heard the pub gossip. Left his wife and son and gone on the rampage they had said. She feared the outcome. He was most probably drunk. Maybe hurt. Maybe de... No. She couldn't think it. Couldn't bear to. She felt so helpless. She wrestled with her thoughts. Should she have noticed? Should she have been there? God knows he had always been there for her. Saved her. Helped her. More than he would ever know or than she could ever express. She struggled to process these thoughts. He was a wife she reminded herself. It wouldn't have been my place. He has Leanne. This last thought hurt. Drove a dagger through her heart. For she loved Peter, loved him deeply. Adored him even. She knew it to be an emotion she had never experienced before, at least not for a person. Yet it seemingly would never be. He had made that clear numerous times. A part of her yearned to move on. Yet she couldn't help it, couldn't stop it. She loved him. Simple as that. She let out a long, low sigh at this last thought. She stared at the table in front of, adorned with her designer handbag and a lipstick stained half empty cup of coffee. She could hear the rain lashing the window and the wind rattling the bins outside. She got up and went to the window. It looked wet. Cold. Dark. Part of her longed to be out there now, laid bare and being attacked by the elements. She wanted to be consumed by the allowing the numbing cold to envelope her. She turned and headed to the bedroom. She looked to close the bedroom door when the buzzer went. She reacted immediately. Jumped up startled, unsure what to do. She crept over to the phone and laid a hand on it. Before she could ponder it anymore, the picked up the receiver. Didn't speak. Just waited with baited breath. 'Carla.' She recognized the husky tones and relief filled her. She placed the receiver down and permitted him an entrance. Her could feel her heart pumping. Racing. It was him. Peter.