Joe and Dianne: My Suicide Saviour - Part 2

The stairs - pt 1

Joe's POV:

As I walked out of the room I was questioned in, I was met by a dimly lit corridor. Along the corridor were several blue doors with no windows. All were open except for one - Number 5 was firmly shut. I stopped outside of it, looking at the number on the door. The paint cracked and falling away. I couldn't help but wonder if Dianne was in there. She could be so close to me, but she feels like she's a life time away.

I walked away from the door and followed the exit signs. I eventually reached a modern looking lobby, with various officers and members of the public milling around the station. I walked out the door and was greeted by a set of concrete stairs with a blue railing down one side.

I sat down on one of the steps, inconveniently stretching my tired and aching legs out across the step. I lent my back and my head against the blue railing. Waiting to see if Dianne would ever come out to greet me. I felt like I was waiting forever.

When I sat down it was very early morning and the sun was nowhere to be seen. However as I zoned out trying to think about nothing at all, the sun began to illuminate London, and give everything a calming orange glow. But I was still far from calm...

Dianne's POV:

I slowly walked down the dull corridors, in an attempt to make my way out of the Police station. I eventually made my way into a clean, white lobby which was beautifully lit with a calming orange glow, as a new summers day in London approached. I looked at the large clock on the wall.

'5 am'

I thought to myself. My head was weary and tired, and all I wanted to do was go back to bed and sleep for years. But only if I could do it with Joe. I really wanted to speak to him. We never should have broken up with him. Or maybe it was for the best. I still don't know. I couldn't help but focus on that little voice on the back of my head. That niggling thought that kept on coming back.

'It's all Joe's fault - don't go back to him.'

My body was conflicting itself in so many ways. I was broken in more than one way. I was lost. I don't know what to do or where to go. I thought about my next moves as I walked out of the station, down a set of concrete steps. I suddenly heard a small and familiar voice behind me.

"Dianne?" The voice questioned. I spun around to see someone who looked a lot like Joe. It took me several seconds of glaring to realise that it was Joe. But he wasn't in a good state.

His hand was bruised and had a large splint on it, to keep it still. His left eye was swollen shut and horribly bruised. His lip was cut and a faint red stain was on the back of his head, seeping down into his shirt so clearly visible, even to my tired eyes. I'd seen Joe in some shitty states. But there was something about his state now that didn't just break my heart.

It shattered it forever.