Control

Chapter 1.

     Believe me, I had tried everything; soft music, comfortable pyjamas, a memory foam mattress as well as the regular dose of herbal sleeping tablets from my doctor that I took before bed and yet, I still continued to suffer from an endless torturing insomnia. The reminiscence of my bitter memory was still scorched behind my eyes. Every. Single. Night.

     I lay there for a while as I recovered from my nightmare, watching as my chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath until it finally began to slow. I threw my arm to the left, feeling around for my phone until my fingers finally found the sleek surface and I tilted it towards me to check the time. Five o'clock.

     I had not slept properly since that sickening, soul breaking night eleven years beforehand.

     Scooting to the edge of the bed, I ran a tired hand through my knotted hair and sighed. A groan rumbled from my side causing me to glance at the slim male figure lying face down on the mattress, one of his legs dangling off the side carelessly.

     John Cartwright had been my long term boyfriend for a year and a half. He was lovely and polite but an absolute pushover which was perfect for someone like me.

     Someone like me. I would have snorted if I knew there was no risk of waking him up. Was there even anyone else remotely similar to someone like me?

     No.

     After years searching and searching for a reason behind the way I was, for some sort of valid explanation or cause, I had even considered the pathetically tiny possibility of being a test tube experiment reject gone wrong but had been left empty handed and remained in complete purgatory.

     Since my emotional stress seemed to cause bizarre happenings, I decided to live an ultimately controlled lifestyle as a plain Jane in a run-of-the-mill journalist office with my own love advice article. Granted, it was quite trivial and boring but it kept everyone around me safe ergo it was worth it. I had been careful to monitor my emotions by visiting my therapist Cora Crotchet of nine years regularly and she had helped me to soothe my anger issues until they were almost non existent.

     Ironically—since my job revolved around relationship advice—until John, I had not been interested in taking part in a relationship. My father respected my choice to stay single at first and I was happy with that, but when I hit twenty two he insisted I should settle down or 'at least have someone lined up.'

     John just so happened to be one of my father's treasured colleagues at his advertising company and after inviting him to dinner several times in my presence, I finally took a liking to the meek brown haired man and we began dating.

     He was fairly good looking with boyishly handsome features; curly chestnut hair, green eyes, always clean shaven with nicely scented cologne and always sported the fancy Rolex my father had bought for him last Christmas on his left wrist, like it was some sort of symbol of their obviously close relationship.

     I padded across the room, dressing myself in a light summer dress that had been left on the armchair in the corner as I went, my toes partially sinking in the plush thick cream carpet. My dresser stood against the wall beside it and I fished my car keys out of the first drawer.

     "France?"

     John had sat up and was looking at me sleepily with concern.

     "Go back to sleep, I'm just going to the shop for some milk." I lied, silently praying he had not noticed the large bottle of full fat in the fridge door earlier—it was pretty hard to miss.

     Much to my surprise, he fell back into bed and rolled onto his side before mumbling into the pillow. "Don't be too long."

     I did not reply, only slipping my feet into my boots and grabbing my jacket on the way out.