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Fractured(73)

By:Dani Atkins


Matt shot her an angry look before reaching for the trousers he had obviously carelessly discarded beside the bed. His eyes were locked to mine as he fumbled to struggle into the garment. I’d seen enough, quite literally, in every sense of the word.

I turned away from the bedroom then and quickly began to cross the large living space. I was moving fast but everything appeared strangely dream-like, as though it were all happening in slow motion. From behind me I could hear Cathy say something, which was followed swiftly by some angry barked retort from Matt. I was almost at the door before I heard him cry out.

‘Rachel, wait! Please wait!’

Walking even faster, I got to the door and hurriedly opened it. His next words were silenced by the shutting, not slamming, of the front door.

In the corridor once more, with the dreadful pathetic scene shut firmly away in the flat behind me, I finally drew breath. I hadn’t even realised I’d forgotten to inhale from the moment I’d interrupted my fiancé in bed with another woman. The dizzy feeling that had begun to blur my senses was instantly washed away on a tide of oxygen, and with it too came the pain, and even worse than that, the humiliation. In fact, the only emotion that didn’t assault me was surprise. Wasn’t this, after all, exactly what I’d been expecting to see?

I didn’t wait for the lift but followed the signs for the emergency stairs, only just slipping through the fire door as Matt burst into the corridor, hastily buttoning a shirt over a torso still glistening with sweat from his activities.

Unfortunately he either heard the door, or guessed where I had headed, for he wasted no time in summoning the lift and ran instead down the hallway towards the staircase. I heard the click of the door opening and the call of my name ricocheting down the concrete stairwell. His flat was on the fifth floor: that meant ten half-flights of stairs. I still had a head start. I could do it, if I ran.

He caught up with me before I was even halfway down, my progress slowed by the height of my heels and my blurred vision. Strangely I hadn’t even realised I’d been crying until then. Even so, he must have all but flown down the concrete stairs, his bare feet pounding each tread to catch up with me so quickly. His hand reached out to stop me, with such force that I almost fell, only his quick reactions pulling me back against him preventing me from plummeting down the remainder of the flight. I felt the heat and damp from his body through the thin material of his shirt and recoiled in disgust. It was the heat from her.

‘Rachel, please, for God’s sake slow down before you fall.’

I turned on him then, my anger thankfully hot enough to have dried the tears in an instant. ‘Like you care! As if that wouldn’t be the perfect solution!’

Oddly, a truly stricken look contorted his face.

‘Of course I care. How can you even say that?’

Venom, dark and poisonous flooded through me.

‘Well, I don’t know, let me think… Could it be the fact that less than five minutes ago you were busy screwing someone else?’

His face spasmed at my words and he reached out for me, but I backed away repulsed.

‘Please, Rachel, let me—’

I cut him off. ‘What, Matt? What is it you want to do? Explain? Is that the word? Because don’t bother. I saw enough of your dirty little movie that no explanations are necessary at all. I understand perfectly what’s going on!’

‘Nothing is going on!’ he cried.

‘Really?’ I snapped. ‘That’s not what it looked like from where I was standing! And remember, I just got a ringside seat. I might have amnesia but even I can remember that what you and Cathy were up to is definitely not nothing!’

He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. ‘No, I didn’t mean that. What I meant is that it means nothing to me. She means nothing to me. It was just sex. That’s all it was.’

I feigned a look of enlightenment before rounding on him angrily like a tiger. ‘And that’s supposed to make me feel better?’ He looked helpless, struggling for words and I took advantage of the moment. ‘You know what, Matt? I don’t care.’

‘No, Rachel, don’t say that. You have to let me explain. You have to let me make this right.’

It was hard not to lash out then, not at his words, but at his failure to understand exactly what he had done.

‘There is no “making this right”, Matt. Don’t you get that? Whatever your reason was, it doesn’t matter. Nothing can make this right again.’

‘You can’t mean that,’ he pleaded, and there was genuine anguish in his voice. Not that I’d have weakened then, but his next words sealed his fate completely. ‘And then, last week, when you locked your door on me—’