Regrets

Part One

I sit here alone, frozen. With each breath I take, a stab of pain pervades every inch of my being. I am to blame. Why have I done it? Why? Everything I do in my life falls to dust. The one man I ever truly loved is forever out of reach. Why have I done it?

Rachel Mason was in her office, her place of sanctuary. Nothing moved. Sitting pensively in her high backed chair, she stared out of the window at the dying moments of daylight. The police and fire-brigade had long since left the school site, having removed some of the visible signs of chaos that had changed her life forever. The front of the school had been cordoned off; she had gained entrance through the side door. She needed to be alone. She needed to think. She did not want to go home, back to an empty, cold house. Sighing deeply, her eyes gradually moved to focus on her desk. Two half empty coffee cups; one Melissa's, one his.

Placing a trembling hand on her aching forehead, Rachel gently attempted to erase the sense of despair that was trapped within. The emotions she had been suppressing for the last few hours finally overwhelmed her. Unable to eradicate her sense of guilt, her rage, her fears, her sense of longing; she wept.

***

The telephone sprang to life. Startled, Rachel jumped and swiftly raised her head from the desk, placing a hand to her chest in an effort to calm her pounding heart. She was swathed in darkness. The dying embers of the day had long since faded away.

Instinctively brushing away the stray strands of hair that covered her tear stained face, Rachel's hand fumbled for the receiver.

"Hello, Ra..."

"Oh thank God you're there Rach. I've been worried sick about you. Your mobile's turned off. You alright? ...Rach?... Rachel?" The sound of her sister's insipid and angst ridden voice sent her stomach in to turmoil. Through clenched teeth, Rachel contrived to curb her sister's interrogation.

"Mel, I'm fine." She had meant to reassure, but the stone, monosyllabic reply that issued from her lips was all she could muster.

"Look Rach, I'm coming to pick you up. It's been a hell of a day. Phil's at yours. I've been driving round for hours looking for you. I should have known where you'd be. I'll be there in about five mins. I'll stay at yours tonight, we need to talk...you know, about things. See you in a bit."

"Melissa, look I..." It was too late, she had hung up.

Frustrated, glaring at the implement that had invaded her privacy, Rachel dropped the receiver. Catching sight of the watch he had given her only hours before, she clasped it tightly. Touching it brought him closer to her. Inhaling deeply, she envisaged his warm, smiling face, breathed his aftershave, felt the touch of his tender hands, heard his reassuring voice.

'I love you Rachel.' We were happy. I loved him. I love him. I know he feels, felt the same. I can't believe he's gone. It took us far too long to admit our feelings for each other. All the months we wasted. He told me I was special. I believed him; it just wasn't the right time.

It was my fault. That night in the pub, after my first day back at work, he wanted me to go home with him, just to talk. I lied; I told him everything was different. I told him things had changed. How was he to know? If only he'd realised how much I really wanted him when he held me in his hands. I was the one who pulled away.

When he followed me outside, I shouldn't have stormed off like that. I just couldn't help myself. It's no wonder he appeared repelled when I forced him to look at my scar. It hurt so much to see him turn away. I know now it wasn't revulsion. He had no notion the fire had left such a searing mark; he was pained by his own insensitivity. If only I'd not run. We'd have had more time together. And there would have been no Melissa.

***