Chapter One:

The carriage was occupied by the maximum capacity of commuters and even then some. Limbs were branched out endlessly. People had become entwined as if vines suffocating the more fragile twigs surrounding them.

There was no emotion portrayed by these people. Nothing. The air itself appeared limp and lethargic, and the group remained mutely civilized while stood like steel, in the intimate positions that had ruthlessly webbed them together.

A sudden exhale escaped and disrupted the intense silence, as the train rattled on. Indeed, it appeared perhaps as an extended metaphor for their hearts - completely empty.

The sound was accompanied by a softer jingle, perhaps from the cash that danced energetically in their pockets; and then it occurred to me, as to why any of us were here - to earn money. The commute to work. Purgatory, as I affectionately referred to it as.

Even the suits were consumers, and everybody was anybody’s boss these days. Discreetly every soul aboard the carriage was aware of it; and as obvious as it were, the subject of power itself was infinitely a taboo subject.

The train jolted to a halt, and swiftly the doors opened. I disembarked quickly, and briskly glided up the escalator into the outside, and my hips swung in the tight red shift dress as I continued to walk.

Usually the cliché is that people are blinded by the light, but scanning the surrounding cityscape everywhere seemed grey. The buildings, the sky, the people and the bellows of smog that slept in their lungs and yet fled from their mouths,my pupils dilated in anger. I was judgmental of a crowd that I walked with, and despite my observations did not have the strength to walk away from. I was shackled by a life that was obvious and too conformist. I stopped, and regained calm.

As I approached the corner, I saw a man slumped sadly against a damp wall. He was with a large dog, which lay mournfully and feeble with his head hung bored upon the male's lap.

It was clear that this person was homeless. Beyond my own arrogant opinion, he fit the stereotype well. His face was unshaven, and his clothing was mismatched. His hands were barely covered by a pair of fraying, fingerless gloves; and a stained coffee cup accompanied by a few coppers was the only source that captured the male's attention. Eagerly, I watched with anticipation and hoped that people would contribute financially. As brief as my act of voyeurism were, not one penny alone had been donated. My heart began to swell.

I entered my pocket and caressed its lining, retrieving a few pound coins. Timidly, I approached him. His eyes remained fixed upon the polystyrene shape, and as I approached; the dog peered up at me gingerly. Our shadows met forming a large, dark puddle upon the cobbled ground, and I leaned acutely to toss the money into the fragile coffee cup.

The man's eyes darted from the cup to my shoes and all the way up to my pale face as quickly as the coins had met the bottom of the container.

Our eyes met with an equal and inquisitive stare. His were a murky and dramatic green, the shade of a sea storm. They were large and desperate, as opposed to being fearful. I empathized with this mysterious man, and glanced once more at him, as I stood back to full height.

His hair cascaded in waves to his jagged shoulders, and was a black ink in colour. Each strand was matted and covered in a thick layer of grease - generally he was unruly in appearance. His mouth crept up at the corners gently to reveal a discreet smile; his beard involuntarily stroked the top of his chest and his collar bone. I could not determine his age, but the small wiry lines around his eyes gave some indication.

"Thank you maam - I really appreciate it", he smiled sadly.

"You are welcome - sir", I replied nervously, and with some confusion.

"Sir?" he choked. "Please - my name is Carl. Thanks again for your... contribution?" He flushed as if embarrassed, and glanced away quickly. I assumed that this was my cue to walk away. Faintly, I began to pad away and he called out shrilly, "Just like the rest of em eh Miss? Speech from my spit unravels my tongue and you're off?" I gaped back at this man, and with humiliation, scurried off.

He was completely accurate with his own judgments - I had become one of them. I cracked my knuckles nervously, and then gnawed the skin surrounding the nail beds. I had become one of them. A suit. I was now grey.

Chapter Two:

Eventually, my hands collapsed against the keyboard. Simultaneously, my stomach roared ravenously, whilst I sighed with relief, that the day was at a close. Tomorrow was the annual promotional meeting, and yet there was no zest or flare left in me, to persuade me to fight on in my career.

A bitter and metallic taste dried out my mouth, when I considered the only reason as to why I had applied for a management role - the money. I was every other adult churned out by society - the bills, the mortgage, the savings account. All lexical choices that related to consumerism as a whole.

Advertising was an extremely competitive industry, which had excited and enticed me to the field primarily. Predominantly though, I was a publisher - but it was restrictive. To have the role of printing everybody's but my own ideas made me nauseous. My heart lusted for a career on a creative spectrum. Thankfully, I was transferred discreetly to a linked and independent advertising company as an intern support analyst.

This month, I would have been in the same company and in the same role for a decade. Everything about the office was similar to how it had been when my eager twenty one year old self had stepped timidly through the door. This place was tired, lethargic even, and the neutral decor, accompanied by large and intimidating, mahogany desks seemed pretentious. I wanted out.

I snapped off the limp and forlorn desk lamp, and swung my shapeless, yellow rucksack onto the table. I removed my cushioned trainers and casually tossed my black court shoes into the central compartment. Gently, I closed the zip, which seemed to tear through the office; as all else was silent and still. I beckoned my farewells, with no more than a few nods, and swung my backpack onto my right shoulder.

Quietly, I stepped out of the office into the purple twilight, unaware that everything was to change due to the unlikeliest of acquaintances.

Subconsciously, I recalled the meeting from earlier on with the homeless man and became embarrassed. He had completely misunderstood and misread the situation. I decided to see whether or not the man was at the same spot. Gingerly, I approached the corner and peered around the wall. He sat there. I smiled inwardly; glad that I could hopefully rectify the situation. I stepped back with caution to prevent him from seeing me, and bounded delightedly towards the nearest coffee house.

There was an autumn chill to the night, but I was determined to see that this man was given some source of warmth.

I sighed with relief, there stood my favourite option above all else - Helga's House. This place was beyond relaxing. It was shaped like a traditional log cabin, and was complete with roaring fireplaces and shag-pile rugs. House perfectly described the shop's atmosphere because the place was always warm and intimate, and the staffs were exceptionally friendly.

Its owner was a strong and bold character, who was aptly named Helga. She was now my friend and we sat like sisters almost every evening, gossiping and giggling about our everyday lives. This evening was different however, as I was on an errand to ensure that I apologized to this mysterious man known as Carl.

I entered through the first, narrow, glass paned door, and swung breathlessly through the saloon doors behind it.

The place was quiet and only a few eyes met mine before they returned to their baked goods and hot drinks.

Suddenly, a swooping shadow glided towards me with outstretched arms.

"Aw, my darling Eliza - you look tired angel, come sit and talk it all out with your Helga", she boasted in her husky Russian accent, loosening her grip from my tense shoulders. Before I could reply she had dashed behind the cash register, fumbling with the dials that accompanied the stainless steel coffee machine.

"Latte?" she quizzed.

"Espresso please Helga", and with my reply, I yawned and sat down. She tutted and sighed.

"Eliza? Espresso? When did this happen? My strong friend Eliza burnt to the ground by some corporate company that she does not even like. It makes me sad. Can I ask question friend?"

"Sure hit me", I stated boldly.

"Eliza my lovely, dearest friend; when are you going to find nice husband, so you no have to work so hard no more. When husband come, you work because you enjoy, you love - is passion. But no Sam your love. You wait for good man come! You marry. Then work you enjoy. You wait and see. Remember; work no keep warm at night!" Helga stopped and cast a flirtatious wink at her husband Sven. I blushed in a vibrant shade of fuchsia.

Helga disliked my partner Sam. His working hours were unsociable as he was a vet. Helga felt that this was neglect, and constantly wanted me to leave.

"My dear girl, your life... I feel inside my bones, is going to get real good very soon." She patted my arm reassuringly. "That reminds me", she said. "Drink your Latte, it will make bones stronger - so you no tired all times." I began to laugh at her orders.

"Helga, you are like my mother hen!" She smiled as if acknowledging me to continue. "Helga? I have some news... I need some advice..." Helga stared at me inquisitively, and her eyebrow arched with surprise.

"Wow, since when did Ms Feminist, I am all independent ask for advice huh? We charge extra for that service darling", she mocked happily.

She scurried around the counter, and placed herself neatly into one of the ruby, leather armchairs. She carried an air of excitement, and placed her elbows onto her knees. She put her square jawline onto her palms, and leaned forwards in anticipation.

"Well... this morning, on my way to work - there was this homeless guy. I gave him a few pounds and he thanked me."

Helga nodded to show that she was listening. "Then he told me his name, and he said thanks again for the money". I stopped. Helga peered at me.

"This is all news, yes?" She asked with confusion.

"No, no, no! I assumed that this was like a farewell; so, I just nodded politely and walked away. Then his words hit me hard Helga."

Helga's pupils dilated heavily. She gasped as I continued.

"He screamed, just like the rest of them eh Miss? Speech from my spit unravels my tongue and you're off!" I stopped. Helga gawped at me openly. "I just feel really shocked that even someone who does not know me realizes what I have morphed into. I don't want this anymore Helga. I'm exhausted. I've lost weight. My head constantly aches... I'm a mess!"

Helga leaned forwards with her arms outstretched and hugged me tightly. We swayed gently for a while before we parted from the embrace.

"Do you think that he was angry Helga?"

"Not at all my darling, dearest friend. I think, more than this - he pities you, because he himself even, can see your true potential. Eliza, do not take this the wrong way but I think that everybody sees this accept for you. It is shames eyes is beauty of beholder and not wisdom or common sense."

I adored the way that Helga mispronounced common catchphrases. I smiled politely at her, knowing that she was right.

"What do you plan to do?" she asked.

"Well, I don't know about my long term situation..."

"Does anybody?" she laughed, and I smiled back at her.

I continued. "But right now, I am going to buy something for the homeless guy, and hopefully fix any misunderstandings."

Helga clapped her hands delightedly, and seemed overjoyed that I had chosen to introduce him to the baked goods of Helga's House.

"Oh - he will definitely be thankful of all of your efforts Missy, if not... at least for your good choice in foods. By the way, do you know his name?"

"Carl", I stated.

"Hm, nice name... what do you think Carl would like to try?" she inquired.

We eventually agreed on a spicy pumpkin soup, with home baked, sun blushed tomato rolls and a custard cream doughnut to finish. Helga kindly filled my flask with coffee for the journey home, and I purchased a large coffee for this stranger known as Carl. We concluded our conversation with another embrace, exchanging goodbyes, and I sent my regards to Sven. As I walked towards the doors, Helga called after me.

"You are a good girl my Eliza, your heart is bigger than your head my sister".

We waved and I carried on into the icy night.

Chapter Three:

The dog saw me first and barked in warning to his master. He must have been asleep, as his reaction seemed groggy and slow. The dog's threat did not scare or unsettle me, so I continued towards the two of them. The man pulled his tattered sleeping bag, loosely around his shoulders. He seemed grateful of the extra warmth from the material. I empathized with him, and pawed my scarf up higher towards my earlobes. Now I was directly in front of him, baked goods, and hot drinks in hand.

He stared at me with both a puzzled and quizzical eye. Then his eyes burst with surprise and he exclaimed, "Aren't you the lady that was here earlier Miss?"

I cleared my throat, this time I was prepared, confident and so I replied. "Yes, yes - I was". I decided to come back", I stated, while pushing my mousy hair away from my porcelain face.

He looked up at me, bemused. "Well with all due respect Miss, I can see that!" he grinned. "Why?"

My amber eyes looked down, ashamed. "Well, I wanted to apologize for the way that I walked off earlier. It was a complete misunderstanding. I assumed that when you thanked me the second time, that that was the end of the conversation. I am terribly sorry though".

The man opposite me interjected, "No, I am the one who is sorry - I was terribly rude after your act of kindness. It was just nice... a suit... actually addressing me and stuff... I am sorry". We both smiled.

"I'm just expecting the dog to apologize now and we'll have the full set!" I giggled.

"No chance of that! Old Dusty here is an old sap, but his a bit of a city-goer himself I'm afraid. A bit arrogant, introverted and full of his own importance..." he roared with laughter, his midnight shaded hair danced merrily as he patted the mongrel's head affectionately. "I suppose that you're going to walk away now?" he questioned.

"Actually, on the contrary. I brought you some food..." He froze. "What's wrong? Have I offended you? He did not reply straight away. His mouth just twitched and opened, his body became motionless.

Eventually, he said, "No - of course not! Are you for real? Wow! No soul has ever brought me food before". A singular tear escaped from his emerald eyes. "Thank you so much. I don't know what to say?"

"Then say nothing, and eat." I retrieved the paper bag from under my arm and clutching the top, handed it to this stranger.

As he unrolled the bag, the magnificent scents wafted into the air, and carefully, he placed the coffee, rolls, doughnut and soup into a horizontal line to admire them. His eyes twinkled like two perfectly cast emeralds, and he began to devour the food. Suddenly, he stopped, and held me out a piece of the bread roll.

"Would you like some Miss?" he questioned.

I shook my head. I was reminded of how ravenous I was myself, but declined his kind offer, for want of him gaining the appreciation of a full meal.

He finished the meal quickly, and wiped his now orange mouth, on the sleeve of his ragged jumper.

"What is your name Miss?" he simply inquired.

"Eliza", I stated.

"Pleased to meet you Eliza".

"Pleased to meet you too - Carl", came my reply.

He smiled happily, proudly even that, I had remembered his name.

"Would you like to sit with me Miss?" he asked confidently.

"Call me Eliza". I checked my watch. It was seven thirty, but I was curious about the stranger that was sat before me; besides, my presentation was already completed for tomorrow's annual, promotional meeting.

"Okay. Sure", I boasted.

He beamed up at me, and unfolded an old newspaper and beckoned me to sit. I glanced around nervously, conscious of being spotted by any colleagues. But the street was abandoned accept for us and the large, slender greyhound, known as Dusty. I held my skirt at the edges and sat awkwardly next to him. This could be dangerous I realized, but equally it was thrilling.

Carl's eyes caught the light from the street lamp, and immediately they seemed fresh, and danced with life. His eyes then wandered into my hazel stare and he whispered, "I am going to save you..."

I did not question his statement. In a sense, he already had, and I knew that it was true.

Chapter four:

Everything was silent. The stars were the only voyeurs to our conversations. The dog's ears were flapped down, and his breathing deepened as he slumbered. The street lights wavered in a hazy yellow, and seemed to peer eagerly over this becoming and unlikely friendship.

"So Eliza? Do you mind me asking you some questions?" he asked somewhat shyly.

"Hm... Are you secretly an undercover? Err cop?" I stared at him, beaming.

He laughed and held his hands up. "Aw - damn! You caught me good treacle! No... Seriously? Do you mind? I don't want to be too personal... just trying to figure you out that's all."

I cocked my head to one side, but then nodded for him to proceed.

"When I saw you this morning - with the other suits, you didn't fit. Something is out of sorts. You seemed so tense, and the sadness I see deep within your eyes - wow. I wish beyond anything that an unlikely angel such as yourself would never have to experience such an emotion. Be honest... Eliza? Are you happy and content with your life?"

Stereotypically, everything began to flash past in an instance. I had a job, and a partner, and a home. But suddenly, something, no - everything, seemed a miss. I began to cry, and whispered, "No".

Carl nodded knowingly. He seemed afraid to touch me, but he gently spoke. "Eliza - my new and only friend in this world, you must remember that where there is darkness, there is also light..." he peered at me slowly, to ensure that my tears had subsided. He continued, "You are me Eliza. Around two years ago, I was in a similar and respectable job role like you too. I was a financial adviser in a gold mining industry, but the investment went bust and so did I. I lost everything! My house... my job... even my wife! I had enough savings to be stable for maybe a year tops? But I became desperate and needy, after my wife left me for my best friend - who she now has a kid with. Gosh! A kid! The one thing that I want more than anything in this whole world... Anyways, I began drinking, gambled heavily and yeah... I lost absolutely everything. Bailiffs came. Bankruptcy came. I did some fraud stuff for big money - wound up in prison for a bit. Got out, cleaned myself up from the drink - and ended up in this heap... alone".

My mouth merely gaped at him. I did not want to question anything further from his past. "Carl? Can I ask you something?"

"Sure... anything?" he replied, perplexed.

"Do you think that freewill puts us in charge of our own fate?" I queried.

His brow furrowed in thought. "Ideally it would, and to an extent it does..." he trailed off sadly, stroking his beard.

"Freewill brought me here Carl - not fate". He smiled politely.

"Eliza - you seem a petite flower, so fragile and delicate, but I sense your fear. Your beauty - it trembles in the breeze. It is evident. Much too clear to the naked eye. Eliza? It is useful to remember... that even if a flower is uprooted, it can be replanted and survive..."

With that my phone rang, and Carl waved me away, realizing that we were from different lifestyles.

Chapter five:

Somehow, the apartment seemed much larger than this morning, yet it was isolated; and in irony, it made me feel claustrophobic. A rented box had become the womb of my life, and now I wanted to tear myself from it.

I dragged myself to the kitchen, and casually slung another processed meal for one into the microwave. Eventually, the timer broke the silence, and I threw the congealed Car bonara onto the plate. I sat alone in my own thoughts and with monotony, chewed, and finished the tasteless food.

My presentation was stored securely within my briefcase, which lay abandoned, underneath the wine rack. I removed a bottle of rose, and decided to pour a glass. Then I decided to text Sam.
"How are you?" It was a mundane and generic message, but at least it required a response. Sam was constantly busy, and disliked direct messages of affection. I was nervous, and unsettled around him at times, as his tone could swiftly change, but I realized that the majority of this behaviour was due to his tiredness from his work commitment.

I stared mindlessly at four walls, and suddenly I was overcome with emotion, and began to convulse heavily into my empty palms; with no reply from my message.

Reluctantly, I heaved myself from the table and walked weakly to my bedroom. I peeled off my clothes and placed them neatly into the laundry basket; then gently pulled my favourite grey, and fraying pyjama set over my mousy hair. Involuntarily, it reminded me of sharp green eyes and poetic words, coiffed in torn garments.

"I am going to save you", he had promised, and with this thought, my body relaxed and as my eyes slowly closed, I whispered into the abandoned dark - "thank you..."

The following morning, I swayed nervously through the bustling crowd, dressed formally in a plain black shift dress, and brick red, stiletto heels. I had pulled my hair up sharply, into a French chignon, where I let only a few strands dance playfully around my porcelain face.

My lips were daubed by red lipstick to match, and I clutched my briefcase protectively beside me. I was curious as to why Sam had not replied, and a multitude of possibilities entered my mind, until I was unexpectedly greeted by a cardboard sign, held by the filthy hands of the homeless man Carl.

It read: A mouse was not Corporate Cinderella's only friend." He grinned manically at me, behind the obscene volume of facial hair. I laughed, and flushed a scarlet shade. He leaned over, into a bow; brushing his hands together with satisfaction that his work was done. I mouthed a, "thank you". He winked discreetly, and again I was pushed by the swarm of commuters, as if some strong tide had made the crowd surge along the cobbled ground.

As I approached the office, my phone vibrated. There was a message from Sam. "Hello, I'm fine". My heart shrunk. He had not even wished me good luck. Today, I could potentially gain a promotion, which would mean that myself and Sam could finally put a deposit on a house. WE would live together, comfortable and happy, I assumed naively. My mind drifted into a calm place, deeply involved in the thought, as I whirled around the swinging doors.

My thoughts were cut short. "Eliza? Boardroom - now!" bellowed Mr Jones, deputy chairman of The Anderson Advertiser empire. His expression was alarmed, and his tone was urgent. I became tense and confused by the altered arrangements, but obeyed the order by following Mr Jones towards the elevator.

An awkward silence passed between us, for no longer than a minute as we travelled together. Swiftly, I was seated, and Mr Jones accompanied both the treasurer and secretary at the head of the table. I vaguely recognized a few faces. (Although there were mainly accountants, finance advisers, graphic artists and a plentiful amount of mood-boards were scattered around the front wall.

The murmuring soon subsided out of respect for the upstanding of Mr Jones. His eyes did not meet the crowd immediately, and his face reddened shamefully. He twisted his hands nervously and the patches of sweat from his underarms stained his pale blue shirt obviously. A cheap looking novelty tie seemed to strangle his neck, and the smiling yellow faced pattern that stared up at us, were somehow not returned.

He cleared his throat and took a swig from his mug of coffee. He cleared his throat again. "Ladies...” he stopped. “Ladies and gentlemen, you have been summoned to this meeting today on urgent business". A few eyes cast around the room. "It is with regret that the annual promotional meeting has been postponed." The room grew steadily louder. Mr Jones waited for his irate audience to calm. He was an extremely patient man. Once again the room froze in silence. "Thank you ladies and gentlemen." He smiled politely, but it did not reach his eyes as he continued. "As you are all aware, this year Mr Anderson - chief executive and founder of the company will be changing the name of the business. He will be reaffirming the business with the official address, The A&J Advertising Association" as he will be welcoming son and inheritor of the business... James into the field." People seemed bemused, wondering about their parts in this meeting.

"I would now like to formally introduce our treasurer... Mr Ryan Weller." Mr Jones held out his hand to introduce the character. The audience clapped politely, but the paranoia displayed by most was extremely evident.

Ryan Weller also seemed withdrawn, awkward, and acted in a similar way to Mr Jones. He stood dejected and in an almost mournful stance. "On behalf of the company... it is with regret - that I am standing here today to inform you all of your... redundancy. It has been at the request of our newly acquainted director - Mr James Anderson... that he wishes to redevelop the business; and therefore as a result - he has decided to terminate all of those who stand before me". He bowed his head sadly, and Mr Jones continued.

"Redundancy will be paid in full, and both father and son, have agreed - with discretion - that people may reapply for their posts. I apologize for the inconvenience caused to one and all. Thank you... you are dismissed".

Some people began to cry, others remained seated - some called loved ones. In a haze I rose from my seat and timidly approached the lift.

Mr Jones followed me and approached cautiously. "Eliza?" I stared at him blankly, lost and numb. "Eliza... Mr James Anderson would like to see you personally in his office. Would you like me to escort you?" I nodded weakly.

Again we rode the elevator in silence; Mr Jones knocked the door loudly and scurried off.
Mr Anderson Junior opened the door and warmly welcomed me inside. "Please be seated Miss?"

"Taylor", I replied coldly.

"Miss Taylor..." he played the words soulfully on his lips. He swung his chair around and pushed it toward me, opening his legs widely. "Miss Taylor... I have heard a great deal about your work. Your enthusiasm. Your originality. Your portfolio astounds me beyond words - and your talents exceed your current status within my business".

"I have no status here James!" I spat angrily.

"Now, now Miss!" He wagged a finger. "Please be calm and listen intently upon my offer." My brow creased and my eyes became steel. "I realize that this year, you would have worked here for ten years... congratulations... have a consolation prize". He cruelly tossed a pen across the table. "Miss... I would like to offer you the big time! I would like to make you a partner of this empire". His eyes widened, and I swallowed loudly. "I realize that my generosity overwhelms you. But baby cake? It only gets better! I am offering 150,000 starting salary, your own private studio, a courtesy company car and 10% of the entire shares of the business. Also, 5% of the overall profit from each month will be directed into your own private bank account. All expenses paid, and all air miles free of charge".

"Why me?" I managed to squeak.

"Baby cake - you have made the most sales and have the largest client backlog within the entire business. You're too precious to lose baby cake..." he breathed heavily, and stroked my earlobe. I snatched his hand away, and he caressed my leg with the other. "You're special baby cake", he grunted. I slapped his face hard. I stood hurriedly, and managed to open the door.

"James darling you are a low life, and worse than that you are a cheap fraud! With choice I would never earn a penny for a boy like you". With my dignity barely intact, I left.

I slammed the door with a sense of pride that I had finally quit. The elevator arrived promptly, and I was safe and free. Carl had been right after all.

I decided to avoid telling Sam of the entire story, and with that walked confidently into the crisp, autumn air, to board a bus to my lover's apartment - heart pounding, briefcase left at the front desk - finally.

Chapter six:

My mind was clouded by fear of the unknown. My heart leaped with joy that I had finally left on my own terms. Freewill really did affect your fate, I thought happily. A terrible flashback entered my mind, and I saw James stoking my leg greedily, once again. I became nauseous. Terrified. Ashamed. Quietly, I turned the key in the lock, wishing to be met by Sam in his apartment. The door opened inwardly, and in silence. I crept through the apartment, realizing that he may still be asleep. I smiled seductively with the thought, and removed my cream trench coat, tossing it over the black leather armchair, that stared back at me emptily. I placed the key gently on the coffee table. It was his spare set; that he had unknowingly left at my own apartment a few days previous. Sam would comfort me, I thought naively.

I scanned the room, and glided towards the bedroom. I pulled down the brass handle, and the door swung forwards to expose both a dark and treacherous secret.

Sam was crouched above another woman, sweating and oblivious to my entrance. I stood, shell-shocked and confused. He continued in the act for not much longer, fondling the woman's breasts, snatching handfuls of them in his large hands. My tears began to fall uncontrollably, and I grew steadily louder; muffling the groans of pleasure being exerted by this woman. She tore her black hair away from her eyes and screamed. Sam mistook the noise as a symbol of her pleasure.

"Oh yes baby, let me fill you again my wildcat..." he panted.

"No Sam! Who the Hell is that?" she questioned.

He dismounted with disappointment and turned in shock, as the woman desperately made an attempt to cover her naked body. His eyes widened.

"Eliza? I... I... This isn't what it looks like... It's a..." he stuttered.

My tears subsided and my anger grew. "Are you joking? Sam? Could you be anymore clichéd? How long?" I asked with my head bowed down, to avoid the shame of recapturing this scene. There came no reply from this now stranger. "How long Sam?" He mumbled a reply.

"Since the Colchester conference - Easter weekend. I'm... I'm sorry... he choked.

"It's not enough Sam. Save it! I'm better than this. You're welcome to your plaything! I hope that you are very happy together". I stated with sarcasm. I spun, and left the room, running to exit the apartment. Sam ran after me.

"Eliza... wait! Come back! Please? It was just a sex thing. Please. We can work through this", he begged.

"I don't do sloppy seconds", I replied drily. We could both churn out the clichés if he wanted to. I snatched my coat from the armchair. Sam punched the nearest wall angrily, and then proceeded to massage his temples thoughtfully where his blonde hair stopped.

"I'm leaving", I shouted; as I pulled the door open. I stepped out of the front door, and he pulled my hair; loosening the chignon to a ponytail, dragging me towards him. He pinned me to the wall, and whispered spitefully.

"Eliza? You are too weak to escape, remember that. You can walk... but you will never stand alone and run. Sabrina is my wildcat, and you will always be the runt in the litter, sweet... helpless... Eliza". He breathed heavily in my ear and I trembled with fear. I wanted to scream, but my anxiety refrained me from doing so. He pulled me back even further, and then I was vaulted towards the wall in front.

I crashed loudly to the concrete ground, after my forehead had been met by the full impact of the corner of the wall.

I lay motionless and silent; staring helplessly at the closed door, but no one came - abandoned and disorientated, my eyes involuntarily shut.

Subconsciously, I could hear screaming. My eyes remained closed. I was grateful for the support of the cool floor below me; and the conversation distracted me from my pain.

Primarily, the voice seemed blurred, although eventually it became clear. It was a female voice.
"You monster! You complete and utter monster! Is she... does she..."

"Have a pulse? Obviously she has a pulse Sabrina! She is just unconscious - relax." His tone seemed dismissive, as he finished her sentence. Suddenly, I felt my right hand being lifted, and a thumb gently pushed against my wrist - confirming my pulse, I assumed.

"Call an ambulance Sam". There was a short silence. "I said call an ambulance!" She shouted through gritted teeth.

"She means nothing to me - and neither do you... so no!" Sam replied.

"Then I will call an ambulance and the police", she challenged. With this I heard an uncontrollable, and spiteful laughter, and a door slam shut.

The sound startled me, and my eyes flashed open. Everything was a blur. A shadow formed above me, and was accompanied by a dull and weak light.

"Oh thank goodness! Thank goodness... Can you hear me?" the voice cooed. The image became solid. It was the woman that had accompanied Sam in his bedroom.

"Yes", I replied groggily. I tried to move and this woman stopped me.

"No - please do not move... you might have broken something - or worse", she trembled.

"Really, I'm fine" I squeaked weakly. "I'll be fine - please... just let me go!"

She stared at me bewilderingly, and bit her lip nervously. "Well... the ambulance will be here shortly - I really think that you should stay still".

"No way... I can't! He might come back, please; I just want to sit upright!" I begged quickly.

"Very well", she nodded, and the beautiful, young oriental girl carefully pulled me, and hoisted me into an upright, and sitting position. She stared at me with alarm.

"Really, it's probably worse than it looks - it’s happened before. This is a mild warning in comparison to his usual antics". Her face darkened with fear. I disliked her for Sam's betrayal, but at least she cared enough to support me, and ensure my safety. My strength had returned in waves, and with caution, I stood. I swayed slightly, my mind still clouded by short term confusion.

"Get out while you still can", I warned metaphorically. I could not comprehend as to why I was advising her, but I detested confrontations - so avoided them at all costs, where possible.

"I'm sorry... for everything". She began to cry and her oriental eyes flooded in remorse.

I placed my finger to my lips and turned from her; clutching the walls for support, I walked away, dismissive of the unrequested medical attention and policing assistance.

Chapter seven:

The rain poured heavily, and the thunder continued to roll in anger until the bus had arrived. I was completely saturated. My black tights were torn and exposed my freshly grazed knees. My once white blouse was spattered by blood, and now matched my red stilettos, which I limped in awkwardly, as I hid shyly in my trench coat.

The largest indiscretion that had altered my appearance from this morning was the long, deep cut that accompanied my forehead. Shades of greens, purples and yellows had begun to travel rapidly over my right cheekbone, which I had noticed in the reflection of a car mirror. I pulled my hair from the loose ponytail in an effort to hide my misfortune - but with no success.

As I boarded the bus, the driver cast an empathetic smile and refused to take my fare as a goodwill gesture. Primarily, the bus became a flushed silence, but when the engine roared to life so did the people who gossiped and mumbled, pointing in exaggeration at myself.

In embarrassment, I bowed my head shyly, which made me reel and nauseous. An elderly woman gasped in shock and kindly stood to offer me her seat. I smiled politely as she shooed me towards it.

After I had settled myself, I stared helplessly through the window and appreciated the stiff breeze as it awakened all of my senses, then bravely; I stared directly, once again at my reflection. My brow furrowed and I winced in agony. My mind could not begin to comprehend any reasons, why someone I had loved and cherished so dearly, could destroy me in such equal, yet oppositional emotions to myself. I yearned to touch my face to study the sustained injuries in more depth - but I was fearful, fearful that I would be reminded of the fresh memory.

I began to ponder, and repeat the words internally from my liaison with Carl the previous evening. "Do you think that freewill puts us in charge of our own fate?" I thought, as the cut above my brow had finally stopped bleeding.

The bus had begun to empty and eventually I concluded my own question with an answer. I had finally realized that although my heart was broken, a piece of my life had been amended, and therefore the incident must have been my fate. The violence would now end. Sam could not hurt me anymore. I burst into a smile. Again, I winced, but I continued to beam.

The bus approached my stop, and I pressed the bell. I realized that my wrist ached. I stood woozily, and limped to the back doors, clutching the right hand side of my ribcage. Again, I smiled in gratitude towards my freedom.

A small boy accompanied by his mother caught my attention. "Stop staring!" she hissed in warning. The boy continued to stare at my forehead with surprised large brown eyes, matched by a chocolate stained mouth. "Tommy, stop staring I said. So help me Tommy... you will have no sweets for a week!" she threatened.

The boy became startled, and he swung his legs dramatically from his pushchair. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" he pleaded.

The mother's eyes softened and she smiled lovingly at her child as she looked at him tenderly. She bent down and balanced on her knees. Her own eyes darted to my face, and she met my gaze briefly, before flushing and quickly returned her attention to her son. She frowned slightly, and with concern she sighed. "Why did you do that Tommy? You should listen to mummy the first time", she stated.

"I'm sorry mummy", he stopped briefly, and peered up at me again. "But mummy, that lady has a sore face mummy, why is she smiling mummy? Is she happy that her face is sore? I cry when I fall down at school sometimes mummy... why is she happy?" he asked inquisitively.

She thought carefully before she replied. I listened attentively. "The nice lady is smiling Tommy because she got up after falling down. She got up so that the other people would not laugh at her. See Tommy, because she got up - it means she is a strong lady". I smiled at the woman's explanation, but the small boy still looked absolutely confused.

"Like at school mummy, when I got an ouch off of the scooter, and the big boy laughed? I wanted to cry mummy, but Daddy said I can't... only girls cry. I didn't cry - I got up like the nice lady with the sore face.

The mother started to laugh. "Sort of", she nodded. The small boy beamed up at me proudly, and with knowing. I smiled back at him.

The mother's tone became more urgent, and she looked at her son darkly. "Tommy, can you remember to keep a secret?" she questioned. He nodded silently, with his eyes wide and eager. "You must never, ever, ever hit girls or ladies", she stated matter of factly. Now the poor boy became bewildered.

"Like when Daddy hits you?" he asked. She nodded glumly. "Don't worry mummy I like all the nice ladies, and I like cuddles better". He squeezed her hand, and my heart warmed as I witnessed this young child, so full of empathy and love for the one woman that he must cherish more than anything in this world.

With that the bus rolled to a stop as had the rain, as I disembarked from the bus the small boy waved and shouted, "I hope your ouch is not sore lady - love you!"

I started to laugh and waved back, "Thank you sweetheart!" I smiled reassuringly back at his mother, but there was a hidden sadness in her eyes that meant that the gesture was not fully returned.

The doors closed, and I turned to walk away. A fresh supply of people began peering at me, and my vision began to blur. I considered walking to Helga's House as perhaps I was just nauseous from hunger. I had not eaten since early morning and now it was almost 5pm, but I realized that I was being naive, and that the bruising would be a strong topic of conversation, so I continued towards the train station.

I decided to remove my shoes, to steady myself in an attempt to correct my balance, and continued to pad along the cobbled road. My vision was still heavily blurred, and I began to blink more frequently, with the hope of it clearing. Eventually, I saw that the train station sign was only slightly ahead of me. I leaned against a damp wall, hoping that its temperature would subside my uncontrollable sweating.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. It was a male voice. My heart thumped in a short and shallow beat. I was conscious of it being Sam. "Yeah... lucky I got the dog really - he keeps me warm at night," the familiar voice chuckled.

"At least it's a bit of company for you I suppose", replied a male's deep Australian accent. "It's good to see ya mate".

"Yeah you too... hand on a second..." the first voice pleaded.

I managed to peer up, and there stood Carl. He gasped deeply. I began to sway. He took my shoulders in his large palms and steadied me gently. "Eliza? Who done this to you?" he quizzed in his familiar voice. He delicately peeled my limp and damp wave away from my face, exposing the full effect of the injury. I remained silent.

"I am your friend Eliza. Answer me - please..." he commanded urgently.

"My boyfriend", I managed to state, and with that I collapsed and hit the cold, hard pavement.

Chapter eight:

"Can someone call an ambulance please?" Carl begged.

"On its way mate", came a reply. Again, I could associate sound, but I was incapable of communicating. I no longer felt pain, but I assumed that this was a bodily reaction to the overall shock that I had experienced.

I felt a hand clasped around my own, and Carl softly spoke. "It's okay Eliza. All will be well my angel. It will be okay. I am here. I will never leave".

Suddenly, I heard a commotion. "Get away from her - move along... Stop staring - this is not a spectators sport! Move along..." Carl cried.

Another voice snarled in reply to Carl's requests. "What... so you can mug her with your ginger pal here? You filthy vermin!" The man spat. I'm getting my pennies worth!" I heard a jingle, and the coin sat silently after this. The man sneered coldly.

"How dare you! An innocent young woman has just been attacked by her boyfriend - and that is the way that you help her?" Carl quizzed.

"Are you the boyfriend?" he sniggered.

"No, but that is irrelevant. Please be on your way..." he replied with warning.

Suddenly, a dog began to bark and I realized that it must have been Carl's. The other man laughed. "Oh bring on the rabies", he spat at the dog.

"Dusty - Dusty? Come here boy!" cried Carl's friend. Dusty must have obeyed as all went quiet.

"Tell me something, and I will leave..." promised the stranger.

"What?" Carl snapped angrily.

"If it were me tragically lying there... would you cradle me like that? Tears in your eyes..." he laughed callously once again, and I assumed that he was walking away, as his voice became quieter. "The lady and the tramp", he shouted, "What a fitting title for your romance!"

Carl's friend screeched, "What the Hell do you want mate? The kiss of life?" There was no reply.

"Easy Justin. Easy. We don't know if she can hear anything - we don't want to startle her eh? Just be calm yeah? For me?" Justin must have nodded, as a silence placed a short pause in their conversation. Carl continued. "Now... I'm going to take this young lady to the hospital, so would you mind staying with Dusty tonight?" he questioned.

"Carl mate... ain’t you done your good deed of the day eh? She will be safe once she is with the ambulance crew", he stated.

"You don't understand Justin. This is Eliza. The girl I told you about... The one that saved me. The beautiful, innocent soul that fed me more than food last night... it's corny but... she has fed me the feeling of hope again too Justin".

"Wow mate - I'm sorry... I didn't know. Yeah course I'll help you out mate - I was just bluffing - ain't got to justify yourself to an old pal eh?"

Suddenly, I heard sirens, and the crashing of a trolley. Dusty barked happily at the company. "Good luck mate, send my love to Eliza - it will be alright mate", Justin shouted, and he walked away accompanied by the dog.

"Good afternoon sir, can we ask you of your relationship to this woman sir?" asked a nurse.

"Friends. Please - my name is Carl", he introduced.

"Very well Carl - and hers?" she inquired.

"Eliza..." he started.

"Can you hear me Eliza?" she said clearly. I could, but my mouth would not open.

"Sir... I mean... Carl? Do you know of any incident that resulted in this?" the nurse questioned.

"Only that before she collapsed, she seemed really dizzy. She had all of the injuries as she arrived here. She told me that her boyfriend did this to her... Then she collapsed. That is all I know."

"She was alone upon arrival?" she questioned. Again, a nod may have sufficed. I felt someone pulling me.

"Suspected concussion. Pulse normal. Potential breakages to neck, jaw and right wrist. Deep cut to right eyebrow up by two centimetres. Unconscious. Nerve endings responsive. Over", she chimed into a radio.

"Received", a monotonous voice stated.

Suddenly, I felt the grip around my hand loosen, and my heart constricted. I began to panic.
"Her pulse is quickening guys... Carl will you be joining us?" the nurse asked gently.

"Certainly ma'am", he replied proudly. My pulse calmed.

"Please... call me Anne", she corrected. "Come on then pet; let’s get this young lass back on her feet eh?" I heard nothing else, but the doors of the ambulance slam and click into a lock; as the engine reluctantly groaned around us.

Chapter nine:

As I awoke, I saw a dark and familiar shadow slumped against a long mirror; that was covered by a large white sheet. I wondered why, as I lay in this unfamiliar bed that was accompanied by stainless steel bedrails, rather than startling me - metaphorically, this calmed me. Nobody would get in here. I was safe. My surroundings were eerily familiar as I realized that I was in Cherry Tree ward, Oaks Hospital once again, as a result of being injured by Sam.

I shuddered after recalling the most recent incident. Quickly I peered at the shadow once again, and smiled as I confirmed that the shadow before me was the mysterious saviour and stranger known as Carl. I scanned his face whilst he slept. His forehead was creased in thought, and was hidden slightly by a singular curl that caressed his olive skin. Then I corrected myself. Carl was not a stranger he was the only friend that had stood up and saved me. My amber eyes continued to scan over his body.

Carl’s arms were broad and currently folded at an angle, so that he was bent awkwardly into the frame of the mirror. I pitied him, as he looked uncomfortable. Although his incredible size dominated the petite, plastic chair that he sat on, Carl still seemed small and fragile. Equally, I wanted to save him but I did not know how to.

I reached up to massage my temples in thought in an attempt to reach a solution, but I was tangled up in a web of wires. I cried in agony, as a sharp pain shot through my wrist, and Carl’s eyes opened dramatically. I wanted to paw my left arm to subdue the pain but the wires prevented me from doing so. My gaze darted from Carl to the pain’s source. Carl was walking towards me now. I gazed attentively at my left wrist; and saw that the skin was hidden behind a large cast, from my left wrist all the way up until my elbow – which restricted my movement greatly.

Carl was at my bedside now, his head bowed. I stretched my right hand and cautiously skimmed the material. I winced as I applied slightly more pressure to inspect the injury in more detail; and stroked the sling that accompanied the cast. I leaned forwards, and my long hair fell against my bruised face limply. I hoped that this would discreetly masquerade the flood of tears that poured rapidly down my cheekbones.

My vision became blurred, as the salty droplets pooled in my eyes, but I could see Carl’s large fists clenching the bedrail with anxiety. I began shouting erratically. “He did this! He did this – again! Why did he do this?” I began to convulse and Carl cradled me gently, shushing me. My tears began to subside and I whispered, “I’m so sorry Carl. I’m sorry that you had to see me like this. At least now you know who I really am…” Carl refused to accept this judgement of myself.

“Eliza, this doesn’t define you. None of this does. Please don’t think like that, you’re a strong creature, and you correct your wrongs. Look at the way that you returned to me right? That was a brave decision and you managing to walk away from your boyfriend – that’s your biggest decision yet”, he stated.

“I’m not so sure Carl - was it really walking away? Or was it because I was embarrassed of the situation?” I asked with confusion.

“Eliza, if you were embarrassed of one person why walk outside, in front of a whole crowd of people? Of course you walked away, you were brave enough to confront the world, and decided to shed yourself of being your boyfriend’s prey! Isn’t that an achievement?” he reasoned.

My mind flashed back to Sam’s apartment, and the way that I had rejected the attention from the police and the ambulance. Then I remembered my journey on the bus, and the way that I had confronted the suits with my injuries. I realized that Sam was right. I was not embarrassed, and I had displayed a great sense of bravery, but this overwhelmed me. I had not experienced this before and did not understand how to handle my new found independence.

In desperation I pushed my nose into Carl’s faded, knitted, wine coloured jumper. A slight musty scent hung in my nostrils. The smell was not unpleasant – it was the smell of familiarity, new promise and new hope; which was ironic as technically neither myself or Carl knew one another in enough detail as of yet to cement these ideas. Regardless, Carl continued to shush me, and stroked my hair, carefully avoiding my cut as he did so. He wrapped his other arm loosely and cautiously around me. I closed my eyes and whispered once again, “what has happened to me Carl?”

“Everything and nothing my friend – new life is now your everything, and this incident is your nothing, I promise that I will not let this define you”, he finished.

“What injuries do I have?” I inquired reluctantly.

“A broken wrist, and a few butterfly stitches over your eye, with some bruising. That is why I put the cloth up, I didn’t want you to be alarmed, when you awoke”, he explained.

“Thank you Carl, that is so sweet… you know what? I have been here before Carl and my injuries were much worse; and yes… they were again, because of him. I’m sorry. I am – really”.

“You have nothing to apologize for honestly. Now… I would make you apologize if you were going back to him… but unless you were insane – then maybe I would assume that you might. Even then Eliza… I’d rather throw you into the wacky shack before that would ever happen”.

We both laughed; and in silence a promise were exchanged. I would never return to that beast – Sam was to become a distant memory. I pushed myself up slightly in the bed, and linked my right arm around Carl’s. I was aware of the intense feeling of bruising that accompanied my face, but veiled this with a smile. Was hope really my everything – or was Carl? We lay there for a while, and I drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Chapter ten:

I heard a light knock on the sand coloured door. I felt refreshed and awoke with a smile. Carl jumped up at the sound and walked briskly towards the door. He was greeted by a stout, middle aged woman with cropped blonde hair that was flecked randomly with strands of grey. “Morning son, just here to check on our Eliza”, she chimed.

My smile faded, and I recalled the vague details of my injuries, that Carl had informed me of, during the previous evening. Carl beckoned her inside, and she entered hurriedly as she approached the bed. “Morning Eliza, sorry love – full ward this morning. Busy, busy! How we feeling?” She did not allow a space for an answer, and snatched the medical records from the edge of the bed. She rifled through the folder, nodding in conclusion at the ending of each page, and stated, “I reckon my dear… that you can go home”. Carl glanced at her angrily and I peered up in surprise. “Don’t look so alarmed sweetie! Your notes say – minor concussion resulting in brief unconsciousness. CT scan clear. Sixteen butterfly stiches to right eyebrow, up by two centimetres.” He peered at me beadily, and scanned the wound. “Correct”.

She scribbled quickly into my records. Next, she pulled at my eyelids and used a torch which beamed with unforgiving into my pupils. The woman clicked a pen, and scrawled another note onto the document. “Reactions, normal. No further evidence of concussion.” She pushed a long nail into my jaw as her thumb and forefinger traced my pulse. “Pulse fine”. Then she pushed a thermometer underneath my tongue; and this was also recorded as normal. Suddenly, the door boomed open, and a doctor, draped in a white coat emerged. He stormed through the room, with a brisk pace.

“Nurse Alice”, he nodded.

“Doctor Jenkins”, she acknowledged.

“Nurse, may I continue with my patient in privacy?” He requested through gritted teeth that made his jaw seem sharper than it actually was.

“Certainly doctor”, Nurse Alice replied gruffly. She sighed and dismissed herself from the room. Doctor Jenkins smiled warmly at me, and his steel like glance softened quickly. He also smiled across at Carl, and they acknowledged one another with a discreet nod.

“Good morning Miss Taylor, how are you feeling today?” he inquired with concern.

“Much better than yesterday thank you doctor - although I’m feeling exceptionally nauseous”.

The doctor chuckled. “Well Miss that is because of the strong painkiller medication that we injected you with via an intravenous drip, as you arrived yesterday afternoon. We can give you an anti-sickness, but only once you have eaten – is that okay?” I nodded gratefully. “Now then, my colleague has obviously completed all of the routine checks that we do here. I would just like to confirm your actual injuries. To be honest you have been rather lucky, they are all pretty superficial. I know that it’s tough Miss, and we do offer a counselling service as you well know– would you like to request a consultation?” he asked gently.

“No thank you doctor that will not be necessary”, I replied confidently.

The doctor sighed and withdrew an x-ray from the medical folder. “Now then Miss Taylor, you have merely fractured your wrist bone, but have broken your arm in two places on either side. We do not feel that surgery is necessary at this time, however, we will discuss this further in six weeks’ time once the cast has been removed, as pins etc. may need to be inserted, although this is only ever our last resort.” I listened intently to all of his information, as he continued to explain the sustained injuries. “There is no severe concussion. You may experience headaches, and nausea within the next several days, but please do not be alarmed. As for the stitches – well… they will come off naturally within the next ten days. Avoid washing the affected area with strong soaps, and only use the ointment that we have provided to clean the wound. You may need to consult your GP if there is any oozing, or the cut becomes swollen or itchy, but it should heal just fine! Keep it clean and the scar will only be very slight. Finally, the cast will be removed in six weeks’ time as I have already mentioned, and we will review the case then.”

“How will her pain be medicated doctor?” Carl interjected.

“Well sir, we will give Miss Taylor a high dosage of painkillers to take home with her, to be used at regular intervals. For the bruising Eliza, apply ice and use the basic inflammation tablets that we will provide you with. Any other questions?”

“No doctor”, I replied. Carl shook his head.

“Miss Taylor, can I ask you a question?” I nodded, and was already aware of what it may be. “A woman named Ms Sabrina Cheng called the police yesterday – only shortly after your incident. She is acting as a key witness to the attack. I hear that Mr Samuel Johns is currently on bail – if you would like to press charges, could you please inform me, and I can pass on the information to the relevant people.” He stated.

“No thank you doctor. I have walked away now – please, you of all people, should know that I just want to be left in peace. I never wish to see him again!” Carl smiled at me in support.

“You know what Eliza, I’m proud of you; this time I actually do believe you – well done. I told you that you would become stronger. I respect your decision; I just wish people like that didn’t get away with the crime… Well, I’ll be back in an hour, I just have to round up the other troops that are also being discharged today; when I come back I will discharge you. In the meantime eat some breakfast with your friend here so that I can give you the anti-sickness pill, and at the very least be reassured that you’re eating habits have returned to normal as well”.

The doctor smiled at me once again, pardoning himself from the room, he ushered a member of the catering staff towards myself and Carl, and was accompanied by two trays of breakfast, one for each of us. Carl looked at me darkly, and with confusion. But I was unwilling to answer any trivial questions right now, so decided to eat mybreakfast in silence instead.

Chapter eleven: 




I beckoned my farewells to Doctor Jenkins, and thanked him with gratitude for all of his efforts whilst I had been in his care at the hospital. Carl cast an inquisitive stare as I did so, bemusement in his eyes. I spoke as if I had been in the ward for months, but Doctor Jenkins was the only person that was aware of the subliminal meaning behind the gesture.

We beckoned our farewells with a wave and Doctor Jenkins shouted unexpectedly, “Next time you’re back here Eliza – I want it to be for a good reason!” I flushed a violent shade of fuchsia, and Carl laughed. Then we strolled over to our taxi slowly. Carl kindly carried my medication and physiotherapy sheets under his left arm, while his other was wrapped firmly around my own arm for extra support.

A pang of anxiety became caught tightly in my chest, as I realized that once again I would be alone, after Carl and me departed on our own paths. Carl smiled up at me weakly with knowing, as he released his grip to open the car door. My heart continued to constrict but I was unaware of whether it was because myself and Carl would now be parted – back to our realities, or if it was merely because I now had to literally rebuild my life as a single person. Either way I returned the smile, and awkwardly clambered into the car. I turned away from Carl as he sat beside me, and stared blankly through the car window; after giving directions to the driver, to my small and empty home. I sighed deeply and remained silent.

“Eliza? Is everything okay?” Carl inquired. I did not reply instantly, but firstly collected my thoughts and then answered.

“No Carl - I am afraid… afraid of being alone… I am alone because I am afraid… I just need to learn to live – but I don’t know how… I feel guilty because I expect a stranger to save me…

Carl interjected, “But I’m not a stranger Eliza!”

“Yes Carl, you are”, I exclaimed snidely. I did not want to provoke Carl but I wanted him to grasp a sense of reality. Carl’s eyes became wild and angry.

“You know what Eliza? Do you actually realize that you’re not the only one with issues – after all I have done for you too! You’re not that hard done by you know… at least you have a home, a job… the foundations of a generic and happy life… what do I have? A cardboard box, a damp wall that’s not even mine and a beard that constantly reminds me that I can’t even have a decent wash in the mornings…” I suddenly became embarrassed, both for my lack of empathy and the fact that I no longer did have a job. I was dumbfounded and astounded by my own ignorance. I opened my mouth widely.

“Carl… I’m – I’m… so sorry… I can’t believe how selfish I have been…” I stated in apology.
Carl remained silent. Suddenly, an idea entered my mind. “Sorry driver, is it possible to do a small detour?” Carl turned quickly and stared at me beadily with his fierce green gaze.

“Relax… I know what I’m doing – trust me…” I explained confidently.

The driver turned swiftly, “Sure love – where to?” he asked chirpily.

“Could you drive us to the nearest supermarket please?” I replied happily.

“Course I can Hun… King’s alright for ya love?”

I nodded politely, and we arrived quickly. Although Carl was still angry, and had not yet spoken, he escorted me out of the car and across the car park, to the shop entrance, carefully.

“Do you mind if I wait here? I don’t think homeless men are too welcomed by scum bag security guys – if you catch my drift?” Carl questioned subliminally.

“Sure, I am sorry Carl… really I am.” I bowed my head shamefully. Carl leaned forwards and stroked my face. I let my face hang against his palm; and I smiled at his careful touch. I continued to smile, as he avoided the bruised side entirely. We continued to stand together, unaffected by the passers-by, with our eyes caught in one another’s.