The Tens, Vanessa Jones [i like reading books .TXT] 📗

gave her hope, an anaesthetic and a link to who she was when she was whole and someone's wife. But with the peeling open of both eyelids came the sinking feeling as reality attacked her and she was reminded that her husband had left her and her world was no longer a vanilla milkshake life but one of muddy water.

Uselessly, she kept reminding herself that millions of people broke up and it was an everyday occurrence, not a life-threatening one. And then it broke her a little more to think that she lived in a world where a heart breaking was an everyday occurrence and not one where the world should stop still.

Since he left, Alex had not sent her one text, email or even phoned. Sophie had sent him countless; begging, fury, placating, nonchalant. The silence fed a monster inside of her; a kind of wild and foreign grief that she was drowning in. She feared what it was doing to her physically and neurologically. Mostly, she was terrified she was going to die of a broken heart.

CHAPTER SEVEN

The nightmare struck again. Sharply sitting up in bed, she searched for Alex until she remembered that he was no longer there. For what felt like the millionth time in less than a week, she checked her phone in case he has called but that provides no results.

Sophie looked around the room and found nothing to comfort her, the gloom seeped through the windows and rolled across the floorboards, where there should be sunlight.

Bile kept rushing to the back of her throat as she swallowed whilst her face was hot and tender from crying. With the television still murmuring in the background, she sat up in bed and pressed her back against the cool stone wall. Which, strangely, soothed her as her heart felt in physical pain, wincing and writhing with each fresh batch of thoughts. It was as if someone had ripped a BandAid off mighty fast and left an open wound that wasn't ready to be healed.

Sophie started a silent, movementless cry but was quickly interrupted as a bird flew into the window with a disturbing thud. The sound was enough to shake her out of her misery.

Looking bedraggled in her pyjamas, Sophie cautiously stepped out into her backyard and noticed the small, shiny bird that flew into her window. It lay motionless on the ground. She tiptoed up to it and looked at it for a beat. Unexpectedly, and making Sophie jump, the bird recovered from its shock, shook itself off and flew away.

As she turned back to go inside the house, clutching the loose waistband of her pyjama pants, she notices that there is a thin wire of copper where the bird landed. Too sad to care, she walked back inside whispering to herself, ‘I’m falling apart without you, Alex.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sophie shuddered in the waiting room of the doctor's surgery that she’d reluctantly hauled herself to. It wasn't that it was cold, in fact, she felt like a roast chicken inside an oven. But something inside her had stirred up a chill.

The doctor was middle-aged podgy man that didn’t really want to be dealing with Sophie and her imaginary problems. At the other side of the desk, he typed without meeting her eyes. ‘And has there been any stressful events that have occurred recently?’ He asked.

‘Well... yeah. My husband left me.’

Nonchalantly nodding, he said ‘it’s certainly an unusual set of symptoms… the hair loss, the nightmares, sensitivity of taste, smell and touch, sore gums… You say your body hurts?’

Sophie wasn’t sure whether it was a question or accusation. ‘My whole body feels like a bruise. It’s all been happening since just before my thirtieth birthday.

‘Hmm. I see. Like I said, it’s an unusual set of symptoms but nothing that we can’t attribute to stress. Particularly seeing as though your husband left.’

‘So what should I do?’

‘Take a multivitamin and get as much sleep as you can. Try to get back to your normal routine and structure. I find that always helps when people get a bit… wobbly.’

Sophie looked at him blankly for a bit. ‘Do people die from a broken heart?’ She murmured.

The doctor stopped what he was doing and turns to face her. ‘I’ll prescribe you something to help you sleep. You might want to look into finding a good therapist.’

Sophie stood to leave, but hesitated and was about to say something. In the end, she decided against it and walked out.

CHAPTER NINE

Despite the tiredness dragging at her face, Sophie decided to go back to work, welcoming the distraction. Almost looking forward to going back to work and being in a familiar enough environment, she was sure that it would take her away from her cave of misery.

Hurriedly she slipped into her corporate work outfit. Looking in the mirror, she approved of her outfit but was dismayed at her hair and face. She tried to plump up her hair and seeing it fall greasy and limp, settled on tying it back in a sleek ponytail. To herself in the mirror, she announces ‘you’ve got this. This is the kind of normalcy that you need to get better. You don’t want Alex to come back and see that you’ve totally fallen apart, right?’

Swiping on a lipstick that made her feel garish rather than put together, she smacked her lips together anyway. ‘Good. That’ll fool anyone.’

Since Alex left, Sophie told herself that it was near impossible to resign without an income. Until her beloved paintings started to sell, she was tethered to her job. She'd squandered all her sick leave, pining over the Alex-shaped hole in her life.

Usually, she loved being positioned on display at the front of Roman & Associates at the sleek mirrored desk that stood on thin trestle legs and exposed her knees. The desk bore no more