I sat there alone. I was not physically alone of course; there was the poser in the suit talking loudly on his mobile phone as though he owned the place. I recognised him straight away as that bully from school that I beat the crap out of in year nine. There was this “mother” reading away at her magazine, probably drooling over some picture of half naked hunk, oblivious to cries of attention of her daughter who sat in a pushchair less than a foot away.

It was strange, but it was if this tube-station was void of goodness, kindness or humility. I tried hard, as I sat there, to recall a time when my life was good, a time before it turned to shit.

It was as though I was staring down into a bottomless lake, its dark waters reflecting nothing except myself. Now and again there would be images, faces that would come floating to the surface, Zander whom I knew for years and was always there until that bitch came between us.

We were still at high school, and she was the new girl…strolling through the doorway with her blond locks flowing around her shoulders, her skin, soft and shining with some inner light that seemed to surround her. “ This is Samantha, she’s starting today I want everyone to make her feel welcome, okay”, there was hardly any need for the lecturers request. Already most of the boys had started fighting over seats and began making themselves known.

It was a total shock when she walked straight past and sat next to Zander at the back of the class. It was quite sweet the way he fumbled and stuttered, he didn’t even manage to say his name right as he held out his hand “I’m z-z-andig, thanks”, and quickly collected his books and left the room. Later that day we were sat to one side on one of the wooden benches outside in the sun, just laughing about his earlier encounter. Zander was always fun, he never took anything to heart ever; everything negative just seemed to bounce off of him.

An old station newspaper was lifted in the wind and slammed into my face, and as I quickly tore it from my face, something caught my eye. It was not the article on the page; it was the picture above it.

See even though I had never spoken to Zander for years, not since our little “talk” I had always imagined that sooner or later, we would end up in each other’s arms. I had that dream in my head, just holding me in those arms, the scent of leather and spice (his aftershave), and those deep dark brown eyes. The eyes are what I remember them the most; I would get lost in those eyes, and be overwhelmed with this warm sensation. The feeling of belonging, a feeling of love.

Instead I turned again to this faded newspaper, and the wedding picture of Zander to Samantha. “.. Wishing the couple the very best of health and a long and lasting life together…”

Shit.

Now I didn’t even had that dream, everything was slipping from my grasp, my friend, my dreams…

Finally the train arrived at the platform and without an upward glance I made my way to an empty seat at the back of the compartment and turned to stare out into the blackness beyond the window, least it was warmer than outside.

From leaving the train I walked the quarter of a mile to my apartment building and the three flights of stairs to my room. I had barely stepped inside and reached for the light switch when I felt a firm hand grab my arm and turn me away towards the sofa.

The light drifting in through the window was enough for me to make out the lines of some of the objects in the room, without hesitation I made a lunge at a vase and hurled it down upon the head of my would-be rapist. The glass shattered into a hundred pieces and fell to the ground.

Taking the advantage I ran for the telephone while my attacker collected himself, and just as I had pressed the last digit the room light came on “click”.

“Now what the fuck was that? I only wanted to surprise ya you bitch!!” even without a face, there was no mistaking that accent. So many times that same voice had whispered sweet nothings into my ear, or spoken words of advice and support.

“Spike” I cried as I jumped into his embrace, and his touch was a bigger comfort than I had expected, it had been years but now it seemed like only yesterday since I felt his kiss.

It was as if all the light had now been put back into the world, everything seemed brighter, larger and my senses felt as if they had never been used before. “Why the long face love?, I’m back, and I’m staying”

For weeks I had cried myself to sleep, sleeping on one side of a bed that I used to share with someone I loved. Feeling guilty for driving them away and for never telling them how I felt. Now here he is, back in my life and saying its for good.

Leaving him I slumped in a chair and glared down at my feet, this was something that I could not put myself through again, not after last time. Even after I agreed it was over, I still couldn’t let go and spent years getting over it, and even then I didn’t. Instead I suppressed it like a bad dream, and in my nightmares it would rear it’s head and come back to haunt me again.

“ I can not go through this again, you mean too much to me, and to feel that empty, that alone…I just couldn’t bear it again. Please just leave…just leave now”. I waited expecting him to plead, to show that he cared for me as much as I cared for him, instead there was silence. “Click”, the door was already closing on its hinges and I looked up just in time to see his shoe as it left the doorway.

My last ever memory and it was going to be his left shoe…

I saw myself, in the living room, sitting in darkness, waiting for someone to come into my life and light up my world again. Now I have just seen the one man I thought who could do it, just leave my life for ever.

So now I am here, alone and sitting in the dark, and then outside the rain starts to fall...

shit





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