We Who Are Jaded

Chapter Twenty Two

It was nine am, an hour that felt most uncivilised, and I was sitting on a bus trying to look through windows made redundant by condensation. I questioned why it was I was so exhausted, having done nothing more than slept away the hangover of Anya.

Unfortunately when I plucked up the courage to face my Kieran induced bruises in the mirror I saw how much of me they really covered. My neck was black and blue as well as my waist, hips and stomach. I had run the back of my hand down my neck and then over my stomach.

"Bollocks," I had muttered, knowing full well the look such marks would earn from Doctor Miranda Collins. So I eas crafty when I set out what I was to wear that morning, chosing a white turtle neck that covered me up nicely. Quite understandably, I was grateful that a traditional Scottish summer didn't differ greatly from a Scottish winter and my attire could be considered practical.

The bus bounced through the streets, rocking me so hard I felt ill. But then could I blame the bus completely when better Anya and Tom's later I had felt dreadful before? 

I couls not question the timing of Tom's letter, it had caught me in a moment most vulnerable that left me wishing he would come home.

It's only been four days, Evans. His letter makes no sense.

My feelings made no sense, for despite having lay in Kieran's arms and been promised that he would be faithful I still doubted him. There was no mistaking his attraction to Anya. I was not a fool. When he saw her descend the stairs in the skimpy and revealing night dress I knew he was starting to fall through my fingers. I needed to find some way to prevent him leaving me completely. If that meant bringing Tom home just to make Kieran jealous then I was almost willing to do so.

But you wouldn't, would you Evans? I dare you to be so despicable.

I balled up the cuffs of my sleeves and squeezed them. My arms and my neck ached, Kieran hadn't been gentle with me and I was paying for it; Consequences of a game you had to be willing to play for love. Kieran's bruising chill was something Anya wouldn't have to worry about and I despised that. In aspects such as that Kieran would benefit from having a girl like Anya, she wasn't fragile and she was the same 'species' as he was. To top it off she was beautiful too and was remarkably like Kieran's secret love in the land of the living. But I couldn't admit defeat to someone like Anya. Andrea, Jessica, Michael, Vince and Mack would never forgive me if I did and I owed them far too much to consider thinking otherwise.

I drew a  face on the window, a droplet of rain trickling down from the bottom of the eye. I laughed to myself.

Are you really feeling so sorry for yourself?

The bus drew up opposite the hospital. Reluctantly I unfurled myself and shuffled down the bus.

The corridors were quiet, eerily so.  I pulled my fingers through my hair and groaned, wishing for some interruption on my way to delay the inevitable.

I knocked on Miranda's door several times, getting no reply or instruction to enter. It was unusual for Dr. Collins, who took pride in being prompt, too be late. I looked the corridor up and down before feeling for the handle. Despite Dr. Collins  seemingly nowhere to be found it was open. I bit my lip. How much would she mind if I just went in and waited?

There were chairs for waiting patients but I was too perplexed to pay them any mind. I was far too curious to pay attention to being curtious. Boldly I opened the door and went into the room, the scene dulled by the overcast sky.

Something was wrong.

My palms became clammy, as my eyes strayed to the empty desk and chair. I wiped my hands on the seams of my jeans. There was probably a rational explanation but at that moment in time I couldn't think of one. I walked shakily over to her desk, hoping there was something that would give me the slightest indication as to the whereabouts of my councillor.