Excerpt from the novel Slipknot – Hayley Spurway
November 12th, 2008 | Published in Volume I
The scenes she’d left behind in London gambolled erratically through her mind, out of synch with the soothing rhythm of the train. Lena nursed a Jack Daniels and tried to recapture the blissful assurance that helped her pack her bags just hours ago. She stared out the window into the night. The red-eyed reflection of a woman she hardly recognised stared back.
Rolling through the dark she didn’t see the red cliffs at Teignmouth, the beaches at Dawlish, or the watery tongue of the River Plym. She closed her eyes and the events of the evening swam through her head:
*
The second punch had shattered the light bulb; its shards flying through the air like a thousand blades.
“Call yourself a man?” She sputtered blood and saliva over his salt and pepper stubble.
His face, up close, contorted with rage, snorting breath heavy with whisky.
She braced herself. Then launched another missile. “You’re fucking useless. Firing blanks.” She wanted to hurt him, to destroy what was left. No match for the strength of Dan’s gym-fit body she turned to words to fuel the clumsy tango of drunken fights that lasted into the small hours of the morning.
His fingers gripped her collarbone, the frame of the mirror pressed into her spine. She looked into his wild, glazed eyes, searching for a hint of softness, something of the man she had fallen in love with. Wishing for a moment she could fold into his muscular arms and let her tears rain down the lapel of his Armani suit. But there was nothing left between them. They’d wrung out their feature-length romance and were determined to unravel a tragedy from its remnants.
“You bitch.” His words thundered through her. “You used to say you never even wanted kids. Thought they’d interfere with your selfish independence. Snatch away your freedom.”
“You still should’ve told me… Given me the choice.”
“I did.” His squared jaw clenched.
“It was too late then.” They had been over this too many times. By the time she’d found out he was infertile, she’d already moved in and kicked her dreams from their love-nest. She – foolishly, she now realised – gave up everything to fit in with his life. Now she wanted a way out. “You lied to me. You ruined everything for me. You should’ve told me!” Her nails clawed the shirt from his chest.
Dan fought back the only way he knew how. He struck the side of her head, his fat gold ring scraping her scalp. “What about me, Lena? What about my life?” He shoved her to the floor and slammed the door behind him, the echo of his footsteps leaving carnage and tears in their wake. The bittersweet taste of making up was abandoned, left in the wings, waiting for another scene; for another couple.
Lena collapsed against the wall. Head in hands, she felt blood seeping into her thick, blonde hair. On her hands and knees, shaking fingers reached out for her wine glass, swilling redcurrant splashes on the cream carpet. Eventually she mustered herself back to her feet, a crutch of anger and alcohol bearing the weight of her fears, and stubborn courage gripping her hand, insistent that this time she walked away.
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