Separation
Harry entered
the room and
was met by a
sight that
made his
heart drop all through Balham. He stepped out of the car
and turned around to face the house. It was an
old Edwardian house, with three floors and a
cellar. The shutters on the windows were
painted a light brown colour - a design feature
that was much the same all along the street.
The large front door only had one keyhole and a
brass knob in the centre of the door. Harry
ascended the short flight of steps and, having
unlocked it, pushed the door open. He pushed
the door shut behind him with his foot as he
shuffled through the post that was positioned on
the entrance table. Zoë always left the mail (as
she called it) for Harry to open, as she claimed
she didn't want to lose anything important.
There didn't seem to be anything too important
today. He turned round and called for Zoë.
There was no answer; she was probably out in
the garden - this seemed to be her new way of
passing the days. Harry passed through the
kitchen, grabbing a quick glass of water on his
way, and then through the dining room - this
room was always set out for meals. It seemed
strange to him and he always claimed that it
looked like a show room, but Zoë maintained
that a dining room should always look good and
that her mother had always taught her to keep
the table set. Harry continued through the
house and down the flight of stairs in to the
cellar, which had been converted into a living
space with a pool table. You had to go down
through the cellar in order to reach the garden
because it was one of those houses which were
built on an awful slope. He pushed open the
French windows and stepped onto the patio.
The wind was harsh and colder than he
remembered from earlier on. It blew his tie
over his shoulder and ruffled his hair. "Zoë" he
called louder this time - but there was still no
answer. Where could she be? He turned round
and proceeded back into the house.
T
hey kissed once, daringly.
There was a sudden
realisation of the familiarity.
It felt good. They kissed
again, more passionately this
time. Their tongues touched.
It felt so good to be back. The two lovers were
embracing each other tightly, as if they had not
been together for a long time, for too long.
They were never going to let go. She arched
her back as his hands explored down her neck
and towards her chest. He fumbled with her
buttons and gently pushed the shirt off her
shoulders. Her skin was tingling as he touched
his lips all over her. It was happening and
there was nothing the two of them could do
about it. It seemed so right. Everything
seemed so right.
T
hen suddenly there was a
noise. The sound of metal on
metal could be heard as the
door handle was turned.
There was a creak as the old
oak door was pushed open.
Then it happened. The moment that would
end his life as he knew it. Harry entered the
room and was met by a sight that made his
heart drop. All of a sudden he felt empty. It
was as if someone had died, as if something
inside him had died. The picture in front of
him was one that brought a barrage of
emotions: hatred, passion, anger, regret; all
rolled into one intense feeling. The sort of
feeling that no-one should ever have to
experience. They were against the wardrobe
on the opposite side of the room. Her shirt lay
on the floor beside her underwear. Her skirt
was pushed up against her stomach. Hunter
Mahan was against her, holding her against the
wardrobe. Her hands were so tight against his
bare back that the finger tips were white. She
was facing the ceiling, as if trying to hang on to
this feeling of pleasure, and then her eyes
descended on Harry's. The moment seemed to
last forever. Nothing happened. There was no
movement. Harry turned and walked out. He
could not do anything. There was a welling in
his throat - he wanted to speak but there was
nothing that he could say, there was nothing
that he could do. It was over.
Harry walked quietly down the stairs; it was
all happening so fast. Where was he going?
What was he going to do? He didn't even
know himself. But before he knew it he was
breaking out into a run and then a sprint.
"Come back, it's not what it looks like." Zoë
cried down the stairs after him, trying to push
her clothes back on at the same time.
There was no answer.
"Please, Harry, come back!" She began to sob
now.
Aluredian
52