Apart

Misery

There was no Noora the next morning when he opened his eyes to an empty bed.

There was no Noora that day, or the next; it was only William and the nagging thoughts that she might not be coming back.

He stayed in bed, only occasionally dragging his body from the mattress for a glass of water or the bathroom. The early autumn temperatures in London were chilly enough to normally require a sweater but inside the bedroom the air felt heavy and hot, almost as if he was suffocating in his own misery. The shirt from two days ago was still half buttoned up around his torso and the watch strapped to his left wrist had left ugly marks on the pale skin beneath.

All of the pillows save for one had been disregarded to the polished wooden floor beside the bed. The one still in his grasp was covered in wrinkles and blotted from his sadness. The sent of her sweet and intimately familiar perfume had long faded but just like a small child clutching a stuffed animal, it gave him a false sense of comfort.

The early morning sun stretched its first rays through the tall window and left long strips of light on the sheets around him. It would be a beautiful day, not that he particularly cared, he didn't have the slightest intention of leaving the apartment. It would be sunny outside, too much light, too bright and way to many people. London was always filled with people, and though that could be interpreted as a comfort, it seemed to do nothing but isolate him more; especially happy people with smiling faces and love drunk eyes, appalling really.

He closed his eyes, there was no point it going back to sleep, he had spent the past 15 hours switching between confusing dreams and nightmares bearing only one all too familiar face. He desperately sought to escape reality but sleep only intensified the cluster of emotions he couldn't quite decipher. If there had been any bottles in the otherwise empty refrigerator he would have downed their alcoholic contents hours ago; anything to make this go away.

But just like the rest of their flat, he had found the family sized fridge empty. It shouldn't have really surprised him, but the miserable version his current self presented seemed to have forgotten all common sense. After all, Noora didn't drink and having a glass of wine or something stronger while she nipped at her sparkling water didn't sit right with him. Alcohol had never seemed like a necessity since Noora had entered his life; at least not in the beginning.

Things had changed and there was no point in denying it. The time between their kisses had grown and their respective touches hardened. Her eyes had grown sad and his too tired to notice. The first weeks in London had been filled with laughter and happiness, genuine joy and life had never felt so easy for him. It had all worked out, the complicated edges had fit together in a perfect puzzle. His father was content, he had a good job at the firm and Noora had seemed excited about all the new possibilities the city had to offer.

He should have noticed the signs, should have paid better attention; and maybe he had but the fear of loosing her had refused to let him see the truth. It was almost prophetic he though, how the one thing he had feared most and had sworn himself to prevent with whatever means necessary, had caused just that very scenario to become reality.

The slowly increasing sensation of numbness in his left leg caused him to turn his body to the other side. His hip bone slammed into something metal causing him to curse out loud. Carefully feeling for the object, he retrieved his dead phone from the pocket of his dressing pants. The battery must have given out days ago and he dreaded the messages seething of his father's disappointment he was sure to find.

Fishing for the charing cable beside the bed he plugged the phone in.

Seven missed calls, six from his father and one from a work college, he gridded his teeth and tried not to think about the inevitable confrontation with his father.