Witness

26. Chelsea

The engine turns over but doesn't start. 

Does it twice, actually. 

"Miss Jones?" The head of the magazine calls. I bring my work phone back to my ear. 

"Yes, Mr Cole, I'm here." 

I turn the key in my ignition again, but still, my car doesn't start. I squeeze my eyes closed. The one day that Noah came to pick up Madelaine early after work. The one day they aren't waiting for me to drive out of the car park first. 

It's very typical of my life at the moment. 

"So your team is getting on well with all the new structure changes?" 

"Brilliantly," I answer honestly. "You'll see the first draft of the March changes on your desk Thursday morning. I've asked Madelaine to drop them off." 

"Brilliant. And enjoy your time off - you've earned it!" 

"Thank you, sir," I try to crack as smile. 

It drops as soon as the call ends. 

God. I stamp my feet against the floor of my car. The engine just continues to turn over when I twist the key. My car splutters like a dying fish. 

I manually wind the window down and stick my head out, looking up at the sky. 

"Did I hurt you in some way?!"

I'm surprised the heavens don't open up to throw something down at me. Hell, maybe it would make my car start. 

With a huff, I get out and pop the bonnet.

"Yes," I muse, nodding my head at the expanse of car parts inside my car. "Car guts. Nice. Perfect." 

And then it begins to rain. 

"Fuck!" I yell. 

I collapse back into the drivers seat and slam my head against the headrest. My life. My pathetic life is so incredibly depressing. People dying, cars dying, plants dying - God, do I just inspire death? Is it the outfits?

My bonnet is still open. 

I close my eyes and turn the key.

And it starts. 

Tears actually spring behind my eyes. 

"Thank fucking God," I whisper. "Oh my. Jeez. Fuck." 

For good measure, when I get out of the car to close the bonnet in a flurry, I peek up at the sky and give a quick smile. If there is a God, and my father certainly believed there was, then he's playing a very funny game with me. 

Before I set off, I send a quick text to Madelaine asking if Noah has any free time to look at my car in the next few days. 

Booking this time off was a last minute decision. 

I need a break. Actually, I need a big break. A holiday. A padded room in a locked cell would even do the trick, to be honest. 

It gives me time to think. (Is that a good idea? Have I gone insane? Time alone with my thoughts will probably drive me to commit another felony.) 

I'm singing along to a song when my song cuts off because a call comes through. Damien's name flashes along the screen. 

Rain pelts against my windscreen. The sun is long disappeared, and the streets are grey and dull and bleary, but nothing truly ruins my evening like seeing that name. Not since our last little meeting a few days ago.