Whispers of the night before assailed my thoughts as guilt descended upon me as a wretched vulture frantic to feed, tearing at my weak flesh and devouring me from the inside out.
The heaviness upon me crushed every hope every joy out of my soul. I was desperate to cry but the release would not come. I tried to think but had no thought in my head I could capture long enough to pin down into focus.
Had I done it again? Was it all a nightmare?
In the last few days everything had felt so surreal; a nightmare would have been a welcome distraction into my unending routine of self destruction and self pity.
The morning sun belied the darkness I was trying so desperately to exorcise from my body.
Focussing on the tangle of clothes hastily heaped on the floor next to my bed I was struck by the sudden notion that he was in my bed.
Suddenly awake as my heart leapt out of my chest into my throat I spun around in my bed haunted by the lingering image of a naked stranger in my house.
Calm. The bed lay unspoilt; heavy with its teasing emptiness.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I felt the clammy, dirt from the night before still plastered on my skin like a scarlet letter branded on the hide of an unclean animal.
Shaking. Overcome with guilt and emotion, and assailed by flickering taunts of glistening bodies writhing in the darkness, I clamped my eyes shut and tried to force the truth from my head with my hands.