The Last Train

June the 3rd 1989 a date etched in my mind, a date that would change my world completely, the day that bastard took my life away from me.

My new bride of only six months was driving home from work on a cool autumn night when a drunk driver jumped a red light .She did not die straight away but did so on the way to the hospital, the drunk escaped with very minor injuries (isnt that always the case).

Now four years later i still miss her, time does not heal the pain it just fades away to the back of your mind. Tonight i am going out to try and move on but its not easy because the guilt inside rots me, why her? and not me a question that i ask myself every day.

Its funny in a way the things you take for granted, things that might happen perhaps ten times in your lifetime like watching a sunset together, going for a drive and getting lost and blaiming each other than realising that its quite funny in a way.

Tonight i am going to finely face my past and sort myself out, i have not touched alcohal for four years but tonight i need it badly, not to much, just enough to help me get through tonight. The queens head had not changed one bit , as i walked in that familer smell was still there, it was the smell of stale beer, fag smoke, body odour and old furniture, there was a few faces i remember from four years ago but not many, a few gave me a quick nod than turned away looking for their own answers at the bottom of their glass. I took my drink to a small quiet cubicle and sat and watched, across from me was a man i knew, i think his name is peter but im not sure, i nod my head towards him as a sign of recognition but he looks at me gone out and turns away, perhaps he didnt recognise me or its not the person i thought it was . The drink seems to take away the pain inside my head, i know its still there, its just hiding behind my alcoholic haze, waiting to pounce on me when i let my guard down, but for now the beer is keeping it at bay, i now realised how much i relied on beer, Emma used to hate it saying that alcohol turned me into a " dickhead ". she was right of course, she was right about everything but i never admited it to her. I didnt notice the women next to me , she sat there with a big smile on her face she asked " will you buy me a drink mate " i said yeh what do you want ill have a double vodka and orange please , she looked ok in the dark cubicle perhaps late 30s she was wearing a small tight top, black leather jeans and black stiletoes, scrubber was my first thought but that was another fault of mine Emma always said that i judged peaple to quick , but hey it was company.