Retreat - Cover

Retreat

Copyright© 2019 by Colin the Dogg

Chapter 4

She spends a long an arduous night reviewing all that has happened only now realising that the contract was cleverly written, that the words and phrases she had noted for having alternative meaning to what she believed they said, were what she could not believe. She had wanted so much to gain what she felt she had lost, that she had seen what she had wanted to see. He naivety had led her to think that the only way to interpret the double meanings were the innocent ways. Now it was all too clear, unfortunately, it was also now too late for second thoughts and she can only hope that Michael is having a better experience than she and that he will forgive her for getting them into this when it is all over.

The sun is up before she finally falls asleep, she stirs at a knock on the door, but goes back into a deep sleep. She does not awaken until just after midday.

Still in the jeans she wore last night, she finds an unsexy bra and a shapeless, unrevealing top to wear. She looks out of the window at a bright and cheery day and sobs, slowly slumping to the floor and mumbles, “Give me my husband back.

She sits on the floor helpless and hopeless until a knock on the door, “Michelle, I’ve brought a pot of tea, I would like to...”

“Fuck off you bitch, you tricked me. You know I didn’t want this shit, fuck off and leave me alone.”

“Suit yourself,”

Michelle does not miss the irritation in her words and the observance gives her a small reason to smile. “Good, hope I really pissed off the bitch,” and she wonders what the time is, the only clock she has seen in the house is the one in the office earlier.

For some reason the short interaction with the woman gives her the impetus, to stand to go and sit at the window and face the cheerfulness outside. Her thoughts leaping all over the place, memories and regrets jump back and forth try to drag her deeper into despair and then a thought will make her smile, such as the memory of the little man standing up to Mark in the pub on Saturday.

There are no more knocks on the door, yet she does neither notice nor care. She sits and watches, hardly even noticing the daylight fade. She continues aimlessly looking out of the window into the surprisingly bright moonlight and trying not to think of Michael, or her fears what he is doing, or having done to him. Her thoughts constantly swaying between imagining torture, or worse, enjoying a never-ending, salacious orgy.

Her eyelids are getting heavy and for a second she thinks she sees dark shapes moving in the field over the road, dismissing it as an illusion brought on by tiredness she decides, although she has no expectation of sleep to lie on the bed. She has not been there long when she begins to think she is hearing occasional strange noises, a man shouts something, she thinks it is that James and wonders if he and Mark are fighting. Fearing James is trying to return, a chill runs through her and she wonders that no matter how wrong it was, whether it would have been safer for Mark to stay with her. A short time later, she hears what could be a scream. Just one scream and she hopes it was an animal or a bird. The noise does not repeat, she listens, but all she hears is silence.

Until somebody tries her door...

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