Leaving London
His parted lips are pressed hard against my neck in a long stabbing kiss, hot tongue flicking forcefully against my vulnerable skin. I can’t move. An overwhelming force burns through my veins and renders me tethered to this enigmatic man. Intense shards of golden light pierce my tightly closed eyes. Encapsulated by an energy so strong, so bright, so warm, so sensual, so right, it tingles and pulses from the ends of my hair to the tips of my toes. I want him to touch me, to bring that powerful kiss to my ready willing mouth.
Pressure builds against my chest. He pushes into me, it hurts, suffocating, intense, the energy has changed, possessed by foreboding darkness. Amber light replaced by violent flames of crimson. I struggle, trying to get free, desperate to open my eyes but it’s no use I am trapped. Strong hands are gripping my neck and sending shockwaves of pain through my body as he lifts me clear from the ground.
“Arghhh.” With a strangled cry I startle myself awake, snapping free from another rendition of a vision that keeps tormenting my tired mind.
Squinting, I look around the station. Disoriented as I glance to my watch and realise exhaustion must have finally forced me to sleep. It has been almost 4 hours since I slunk to the floor and my eyes still sting from relentless crying. It’s dark outside now and the bright lights hanging from the vast steel beams above are worsening the throbbing pain in my head. Tears force their way down my cheeks again. Silent sobs of anguish, humiliation and disappointment with myself for being so stupid are disguised as heartache at the loss of a relationship that was apparently never more than a facade. My dry throat is constricting as I cough and almost choke. At least no one pays any attention to my spluttering this time. It was embarrassing enough when the cleaner felt the overwhelming urge to keep asking me what was wrong earlier, constantly invading my privacy with those deep brown pity eyes when I first slumped down to the ground. Urgh. I just want to get home without drawing any more attention to my sorry self.
“Idiot.” I mumble. I’m such an idiot. Sitting here in the middle of a busy London train station balling my eyes out like the world is ending. Letting him get to me like this. It’s Stupid. I’m Stupid. I’m such a Stupid Idiot.
That sick feeling rises in my throat again at the memory of how I threw myself at him on our last night together. The bastard must have been laughing at me the whole time. Breathing heavily through my nose I clutch my case closer to my chest. I’m completely wedged in the gap between the old closed news stall and the back of the touristy union jack tack gift store. I’ve found a dark corner, a void to escape to while the world passes me by.
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