well, long time no see! 2 weeks. I am so sorry, it's been the busiest couple of weeks I've had in a while and quite the roller coaster of emotions! I am here now though, and after struggling over this chapter for so long I have finally finished ;) let me know what you think :) hopefully the next chapter should be pretty swift!
Day 2: 10:30am
The only remaining lucid and sensible part of my brain in the days immediately following Tom's death reminded me of a lecture I'd attended when I was in university. "The stages of grief", I remembered the name as. I hadn't paid much attention, I'd had the intention to join the army upon leaving medical school from the age of 16 and I didn't think I'd need to know this information about talking to the grieving relatives of dead soldiers I'd never meet. I was determined to excel, so I turned up, but I didn't find it particularly interesting or important.
Now though, the words rang in my ears. Words which attempted to describe the feelings of those experiencing an intense amount of grief. Devastation. Acceptance. Anger.
Anger. Somewhere in my head I knew this anger I felt at Fletch lying to me, a claim which was still unfounded, was irrational. It was stupid. Fletch had made a mistake. Even if he'd been driving recklessly, it was still an accident. He shouldn't be blamed, he didn't set out that day to kill my fiancé.
The rest of my brain was telling me to be fuming at him, to hate him. He killed a man who had his whole life ahead of him. With me. Why did he get to survive and Tom had to die?
And hate him was what I did.
I could tell Zoe was reluctant to let me see Fletch from the moment I'd told her I wanted to, my eyes obviously flickering with anger and hurt. But she obliged. I'm not sure why, whether it was sympathy, pity or fear of what I would do if she wouldn't. I wasn't in the right frame of mind, with good reason of course, very quiet but capable of becoming hysterical very quickly. She'd seen that more than a few times the night Tom died.
I'm still surprised the police officers let me see him, it was probably completely against protocol. Anything could have happened, the partner of the dead man, raw with grief and the man charged with killing him in a room together. It was insane.
I found myself shaking with nerves before I'd even left Zoe's house, my face white with fear and nausea. It was when I forced Zoe to pull over to the side of the road so I could vomit that I really wondered if I was up to this. It was obvious Zoe shared the same thoughts, getting out of the car to stand beside me and rubbing my back comfortingly and then going forward to pull me into a hug when I'd finished. When I shrugged her off, she looked at me, her face etched with a mixture of confusion and hurt.
"D-don't Zoe, I'll start crying." I managed, smiling weakly.
"You know you don't have to do this, right?" she replied, frowning.
"I do," I sighed, "I can't spend years and years like this."
It was true, I was someone who struggled to find closure unless I had all the answers, and I knew I wouldn't rest easy and really accept what had happened until I knew exactly what caused the accident. One day, as much as I didn't want to now, I had to move on. But I couldn't let Tom rest in peace yet, I couldn't bury him until I knew everything.
The moment Zoe slowed the car to turn into the police station car park, the knot of nausea in my stomach tripled, the waves of sickness washing over me and the ache causing me to outwardly gasp and clasp my hands to my abdomen. Zoe looked in my direction in alarm, hastily parking the car and turning to study me again.
"Oh my god Sam, you're as white as a sheet. Are you going to be sick again?"
I couldn't reply for fear I would throw up over Zoe's leather upholstery, instead I attempted to frown in hope she knew I meant I wouldn't, and concentrated on taking as deep breaths as my stomach would let me.
After a few minutes the nausea passed and I looked up from my feet to meet Zoe's gaze, laced with concern and worry.
"I'm not sure this nausea is normal Sam..." she started before I cut her off abruptly.
"It's just nerves, I've always been the same but this is just a little worse." I was unsure if I even believed my own theory and Zoe's raised eyebrows suggested she definitely didn't but she dropped the subject quickly.
"Are you ready?" she smiled weakly and reached over to squeeze my hand quickly.
"Yeah, let's get this over with." I replied, and then opened the car door and stepped out, walking towards the police station without even a backwards glance. I could do this.
Day 2: 10:45am
The moment I heard the familiar click in the lock of my cell I jumped up from the hard bench I was attempting to sleep on, in desperate hope it would be a police officer or lawyer or whoever it was who was coming to discuss bail conditions with me. Getting up so quickly was a mistake as the moment I stood up it was if a million knives were thrown at my head, my vision blurring instantly and causing me to stumble back onto the bench. My head had been almost unbearably painful since the moment it woke me up at around 4am and it would have been a lie to say the symptoms which were increasing in number and severity all the time didn't terrify me. It occurred to me that I'd had an almost constant headache since the crash and even though I assumed the CT scan Zoe had done after I collapsed was clear, things could come up suddenly and the disturbed vision and dizziness and occasionally nausea was new, as well as the terrifying ice pick pain. I'd asked for paracetamol but it hadn't even touched the pain.
The only time I was pain free was when I was asleep and even that was rare, so I was trying to make up for the 4am start. I'd been to court that morning, something which was incredibly scary, even though it was simply to have the charges read out to me and to confirm my name and address. I had visions of myself stood up in front of the magistrates in a few months time, being found guilty by the jury and sentenced to years behind bars. Sam's devastated and hurt stare being the last thing I saw before I was taken away without getting to say goodbye to my children. It was something I'd dreamt about the last two nights I'd spent in custody but being in an actual court room made it even more real.
The police officer, unusually one I didn't recognise, saw me collapse back onto the bench and yet simply raised his eyebrows at me in disgust and held the cell door open, pushing me out.
"Mr Fletcher, you've got someone to see you."
"Who?" I replied, assuming it was the lawyer or perhaps Nat, despite not hearing anything from her since I was first arrested.
"I don't know do I, I wasn't told. Don't know anything about you apart from why you're here mate." He snapped, clearly fed up of answering stupid questions for the day.
I just nodded and let him lead me down the still unfamiliar maze of corridors.
When I walked into the room, she was sat on the chair with her back to me, but the long dark blonde hair and small frame was all I needed to work out who it was.
Sam. She was the last person I was expecting to see and it occurred to me that I had no idea what I'd say to her. I hadn't seen her since I left her sleeping in the hospital, and so much had happened since then. I was arrested, there was the post mortem, I was charged and I'd been to court, and that was only the stuff I knew about. She looked smaller than normal sat in the chair, like she just hadn't eaten for the past 3 days- and she probably hadn't. I had no idea where she was staying, if she was alone at night, how she was coping.
I was her best friend, I should have been the one looking after her through this but instead I was sat in a police cell, and I'd caused her all this pain.
"Sam?" She jumped, clearly so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't heard me enter the room. She turned to face me, clearly as nervous as I was to see her.
Just her face made me want to cry, hug her and lock myself in prison for the rest of my life all at the same time. The pain etched in her eyes was real, her face whiter than I thought skin could go except for the ring of grey around each eye where she had cried a river of tears. It had been hard seeing her face when I first told her Tom was dead, but that was strong, agonising, new grief. Now, this was real grief, her expression showing loneliness, reluctant acceptance and pain. Time didn't heal anything, it just made everything real.
Her eyes seemed to flicker with anger, her head full of questions and yet all she could manage was a whispered "hello".
As Fletch walked round the table towards his chair, I couldn't help but feel a rush of relief and found the knot of nausea in my stomach had loosened a little. I'd known him 18 months and yet the moment I found out he'd been charged, a different picture of him built up in my mind. In my head he was a monster, a terrifying murderer and someone I was supposed to be scared of. He'd killed my fiancé and therefore he had turned into this horrible, evil person. But he wasn't, he just looked like Fletch. He looked tired and had new creases in his forehead where his face was obviously permanently set into a frown, but his eyes were still kind and reassuring yet devastated and guilty. My anger towards him dissipated a little and instead I just wanted answers.
I snatched my hand away a little too quickly when he reached forward to take it, and looked up at him guiltily.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, to which he shook his head furiously.
"No don't be sorry, that was stupid. I'm sorry, I should be helping you and yet I'm stuck in here."
"Fletch, I need to know the truth." I interrupted, not willing to hear his guilt trip.
"What do you mean, you know everything!" He replied, confusion gracing his features.
"Don't act so stupid Fletch," I hissed, despite refusing to get agitated before I entered the room, "why on earth would they charge you for causing death by dangerous driving, without good reason...you haven't told me everything."
"I have Sam, I've told you everything I can remember. It's just a few witness statements pointing towards me being guilty."
"That doesn't convince me, the witnesses wouldn't lie- they don't know you or Tom, they just saw what happened."
"Seriously Sam," he begged, "you've got to believe me, I wouldn't lie to you hours after you found out Tom was dead, I wouldn't."
"Really Fletch? Because it's a big coincidence that you were seen driving recklessly and yet you can't remember how you crashed or anything about it. You're a liar!"
"I'm not Sam, I'm not. Seeing you when I told you Tom was dead, you were so upset and if I'd lied to you then, my life wouldn't be worth living right now." He reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tightly so I couldn't let go. I was fuming with him, and looking into his eyes, I couldn't find any honesty behind them, just desperation.
"The police have a reason Fletch, and you know they do, you just won't admit it to anyone or even yourself."
"Listen Sam, I'm a good liar, I know this. I had an affair with Tess, I got her pregnant and she had an abortion and my wife still doesn't know. The potassium mistake was actually Tess' fault and yet I took the blame myself, committing fraud. I can lie, but my god I wouldn't dream of lying to you Sam, especially not then. And I'm not lying now, please believe me."
I sat there stunned, not only by his revelation that he'd been cheating on Nat and almost sabotaged his career, but the how low he had just stooped to tell me this now. Tom had been dead not even 3 days and yet I was expected to listen to his tale about getting Tess pregnant and having an affair. I didn't even get a chance to marry my fiancé and he was telling me how he'd broken his vows. It made me feel sick that he was just trying to guilt trip me into believing him, feeling sorry for him and yet I was nowhere closer to finding any answers or getting closure.
"I can't listen to this anymore Fletch," I snapped, standing up suddenly. He mirrored my actions but in the process stumbled as if dizzy and clutched at his head, wincing outwardly.
"You should have driven more carefully to avoid that headache," I hissed, "see you in court." It was a horrible thing to say and one which I would live to regret but the anger had taken over. I got no reply, and as I turned towards the door there was an almighty crash as if a body had fallen through the table.
At first I thought he had faked a faint to get my attention, but as I turned back to look at him my heart stopped beating.
"Oh my god!" I heard myself say, and then hysterically called for help, a mass of police officers bursting through the doors, then I really registered what was happening.
He was lying on the floor, convulsing violently and frothing at the mouth, blood pooling around his head where he had bitten his tongue. He was going to die.
Think we need the Eastenders doof doof here...gotta love a cliffhanger...I hopefully won't keep you waiting two weeks for the next update now;)
