Die for You

Chapter 65

I woke from yet another nightmare, my sheets soaked with sweat. I don't know if I'd been calling out again, but my throat felt sore and I reached for the glass at the side of the bed and downed its contents in one; grimacing as I did so. The taste of warm tap water is not one of my favorites; warm water reminded me of places I didn't want to think about, warm water reminded me of a previous life.

Blinking, I switched on the light and looked at my watch, the hands telling me what I had already suspected; it was already late, and I needed to get my shit together. I'd driven for hours after leaving the flat that night, aimlessly circling the city wondering where on earth I was going to go. I'd practically circled the M25 before making a decision, driving the familiar route of the M4 out towards the west. 

I couldn't keep going though and I pulled off the motorway at a convenient service area and checked into the motel. It wasn't until I went in search of some food that I realized where I was, back practically where it had all began, Leigh-Delamere services, this time on the other side of the carriageway. I'd paid through the nose for a cheeseburger and fries before I realized that I wasn't really tasting it at all, merely eating to satisfy a purely psychological, or more likely a biological, need. Judging by the texture it wasn't a bad thing that I couldn't taste it; it was as dry as it could possibly be, as if it had sat on the warming plates for a few hours longer than it should have. The fries were over salted and cold as well; all in all it was most unsatisfying fare.

I was back in my room before I realized that I didn't have anything to drink, nothing but the little sachets of tea and coffee that sat sadly on the side, unwanted and unloved. I contemplated getting dressed again and going back to the shops, but tiredness took a hold of me and I simply lay back in the bath I'd run for myself and allowed myself time to think before turning in for another restless night.

With the morning came the realization of what I had done; the dull ache in the heart that wouldn't go away. I knew from my past that I needed to keep busy, bury myself in something that would keep my brain occupied. 

When mum died, I'd thrown myself into my training utterly and completely, beating everyone in my unit through sheer hard work and determination. When Paul had been killed I'd had nothing, nothing but Amanda and a Christmas of non-stop fighting and shagging to hide from the pain of losing him, and losing Jill. This time I had neither; work and sex were tied up in one person, one person that I couldn't allow myself to think about.

I showered and got dressed with a marked lack of enthusiasm, all I really wanted to do was go back to bed, cover my head with the pillows and sleep away the day. I couldn't do it though, check out was in an hour, and I'd only booked the one night; besides, who wants to spend their days in a shitty Travelodge at a shitty services just off the westbound M4? Not me, that's for certain; what I needed to be doing was moving on, and I flung my dirty clothes into my bag in preparation for just that.

It was only as I was preparing to leave that I picked up my phone, forgetting to use it as an alarm causing me to forget it was there at all. As I flicked the switch on the side to turn off the mute function, I flicked at the screen lock and checked my messages. I had three e-mails from the office, one from James; and four text messages, three of them from Becky. 

I stared at the screen as I read her simple 'good night' message from hours before, a plaintive sounding 'I miss you' message sent at about three o'clock this morning and one sent only minutes earlier that wished me a 'good morning' and that I have a 'good day'. 

It was nice to know she was still thinking of me in one way, but on the other hand, I hated to see her messages. I wanted to reply to them, I really did; but in the end my head led my heart and with a swipe and a stab, I'd deleted them all. I just wished that my feelings were as easy to get rid of as her messages were; still it had only been one day.