by Gillian Taber

Created on: June 16, 2009

Prologue - It had ended and begun with a knock on her door. She hadn't truly registered the badge flashed before her eyes but she could never deny the coat he'd proffered for her inspection, the one she had bought for Shey.

The officer had held out a picture, pushing it into her uncomprehending hand. A picture of her, five years younger, smiling, in love, her address scrawled on the reverse. The only means the police had of identification when Shey had stepped off of the bridge. A bloodied coat and a creased photograph, all that remained of his extinguished life.

The lack of a body had given her hope but, as she'd listened to the officer's words, that had died. Witnesses driving under the bridge had seen him poised above; too many had seen him ready to jump into the darkness. There could be no doubt that he had ended his life, coat retrieved from the storm drain alongside the motorway,

She'd listened distantly to explanations about run-off from the storms, of other bodies washed away, of a bloody handprint on the side of the drain. It seemed he'd crawled from the road, fallen unconscious into the fast flowing drain, been swept out to sea but all she'd understood was the coat and the picture. At the end, Shey had taken her with him.

Chapter two - She crumpled, sliding to the floor, falling on hands and knees. Her tangle of dark hair fell over her ravaged face, stray tresses clinging to the sodden tracks of her tears. She swallowed hard against the sobs threatening to overwhelm her again.

Her nails dragged across the carpet, balling into her fists, bloody crescents appearing in her palms as she fought against the agony in her heart. Her back arched, head thrown back in a silent howl of anguish, the flow of tears never truly abated, renewed and strengthened as she saw his image slipped into the frame of her mirror.

Her breath came in unsteady gasps, chest heaving under the pressure of self-inflicted silence, the patch of carpet between her hands turning from pink to red as her tears fell.

A sound from the room below froze her in place, terrified that he would catch her weeping again. Father he might be, that he loved her beyond question but even his patience had found its limit. Her air of quiet isolation whenever she appeared had at first drawn one armed hugs and awkward kindnesses. Sympathy had given way to kindly humour as the months had passed and then to confused irritation as her weight had dropped away and her appearances become rarer.

A snapshot

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