Everything was a blur, a surreal blur. The drinking, gambling. The roulette wheel, it was spinning, it never stops spinning, just like my turntable of emotion. Red, black. Red... Black. Winner. Robert.
Six missed calls from Nick that night. Five texts. One voicemail, not one I could bring myself to hear. One I still haven't heard.
Weeks had past. Not days or hours. Weeks. I wish I could turn back the clock, go back to a time before all this. I had washed it all away, washed him away. But I still felt dirty. I couldn't get clean. Leave me out with the waste.
I had lost count of the amount of feelings running though me. It was a turntable, a turntable of emotion. One I couldn't stop. It was loud. So loud.
It's the wrong kind of place. It's the wrong time. He was there, Robert. I could of said no. I should have said no. it's a small crime. The panic. The realisation of what I had done was setting in. I've got no excuse.
It's different When I'm with Nick the loudness is gone, it's quiet. I said I'd hurt him in the end, that I didn't deserve him. I was right.
But it's calm with him, I am calm. I am safe.
Tracy knows. And that panic, the loudness. It has risen again, still rising. My relationship with Nick, is now in the hands of Tracy Barlow. Her words still spinning around my head, ten thousand pounds, twenty - four hours.
Ten. Twenty - four. Bistro. Nick. Over.