Love is blind

Breaking into a sprint, Ben felt that his heart and lungs would
explode at any moment. Ahead of him, caterwauling their victory, the
rest of the gang scrambled for the safety of their refuge beyond the
old mill...

In the silent hours of the morning, he finally rose from his crouched
position. Having spent a night in acute discomfort, his battered body
ached relentlessly. The past few days had proved a hard and painful
experience, with the prospect of his present incarceration
inevitable.

Dazed from the force of the blow to his head, he'd tried desperately to
flee from the crime scene. He'd been so intent on escaping that he
failed to hear the footsteps which crept stealthily up from behind. By
the time they were upon him, it was too late.

A furious struggle had followed until, too weak to protest any further,
he'd been roughly seized and thrown into the back of the waiting van.
Moments later he was transported to the station where, to further his
shame, he was subjected to countless humiliations before finally being
thrown a blanket and told to sleep.

Though dry, the room was poorly heated and now the cold had gnawed so
deeply into his bones that his body felt physically numb. If it weren't
for this he might have paced for a while. Instead he returned once more
to the corner where, slumped against the harsh stone, he contemplated
his next meal. If indeed there was going to be one.

His mind wandered freely back to the home that he had abandoned, where,
at this point, he might have strolled jaunitly into the dining room, no
doubt to discover his dinner still waiting. By tradition Friday night
was steak night, a meal that bore no resemblance to the slop they'd
plonked in front of him.

With the hollow sound of keys turning in locks there came a flurry of
movement from beyond the cell wall, accompanied by the low drone of
conversation, which grew louder as the sound of footsteps advanced ever
nearer. Moments later two robust looking warders made their way along
the corridor, stopping only briefly to assess the new prisoner in their
charge.

From where he sat slouched, Ben observed his captors through the bars
with malevolence. The larger of the two, a rather unattractive,
smaning man with turnip like features, murmured gruffly in the ear
of the other before returning to his duties. The second man paused
momentarily, absentmindedly scratching his crotch, a puzzled frown
stretched across his pimpled forehead.

It was apparent that the humour had exceeded his mental capacity when
without warning, as if interrupted by some profound and sudden
enlightenment, he broke into belated merriment before heading off back
in the direction from which he had come.

Until this point Ben had spent the dreary hours in solitude but now as
the warder returned, another unsavoury character was thrust loudly
protesting her innocence, into the neighbouring cell.

In disbelief, Ben recognised her instantly as the tantalising bitch at
the helm of the previous evening's provocation.

It had been late when he arrived at the recreation ground. The rest of
the gang had become restless. Already a vicious squabble had broken out
amongst the most headstrong two of the group, and catching sight of the
new face sprawled seductively on the lawn, he was left in no doubt as
to the cause of the conflict.

Tracing every curve of her body with mesmerised eyes, he'd been shocked
by her loveliness. She was the type of beauty who would cause one hell
of a stir, no matter where she went.

With those delicate features and that long, thick hair, it would be
impossible for any hot-blooded male not to want to make love with her.
Lord knows, he could have taken her instantly. He probably would have
done too, if it weren't for the unexpected interference from their
Notting Hill rivals.

He'd been a fool not to realise that aristocracy would object to losing
their ladies to vagabonds, though despite her flawless appearance, he
suspected that this one was no lady. Sexual attraction makes you do
ludicrous things, he consoled himself, looking her up and down with a
satirically raised eyebrow. Even now, in the absence of her beautician,
she was a most provocative creature.

The flash of unashamed pride in her magnetic brown eyes amused him
greatly. Retaining at least a portion of her dignity, with swinging
hips and fur coat flying, she thrust her elegant nose in the air and
sauntered enticingly to the farthest corner of the cell. Haughtily
seating herself down, conscious of his eyes focused upon her, she
deliberately turned her back and gazed intently at the wall.

Ben felt that familiar, uncontrolled stirring in his loins. He liked a
female with attitude. Unfortunately, having already succumbed to her
intense attraction, he was all too aware that this vixen proffered a
nasty bite. He'd been fortunate to escape with the ability to lick his
wounds at all. He could only wince at the memory.

Distracted by the shrill ringing of phone, Ben rose more to peer
through the bars of his confinement just in time to observe the warder
exploring his ear with the end of a ball point. Scrutinising the
rewards of his dig closely, the revolting man frowned before sucking
the pen clean. It appeared he might have embarked on a full excavation
if it weren't for the sudden interruption from his colleague.

A lengthy yet muffled discussion followed, whereby both men turned
deliberately towards Ben as they spoke. Though most of the conversation
was inaudible, his ears pricked at their mention of Lilly. A sense of
desolation and loss swept over him as he thought of her now, alone in
the cottage.

He loved her dearly in a strange way, would probably continue to do so
for the rest of his life yet their relationship drained him. Truth was
he'd broken down under the strain of looking after her.

Since the accident she'd emerged from a sense of shock to one of active
grieving. No amount of tenderness or reassurance had comforted her. If
anything his efforts had been coldly rebuked.

He'd dearly wished that she would confide in him, share some of her
pain but she hadn't been one for conversation, spending most of her
time sitting in silence, with that bleak expression on her face.

On the rare occasions when she did speak, her voice was frosty,
aggressive even, as though she blamed him for Mathew's death. In turn,
he resented her bitterly for failing to recognise that their grief was
shared.

There was nothing anyone could have done. The other driver was so
intoxicated that it was a wonder that he could stand, let alone drive a
vehicle. Mathew's fragile body, having taken the full impact, was
crushed beyond recognition. Their only consolation was that he died
instantly, without suffering.

Dear, sweet Lilly had changed so much since the funeral. Her
happy-go-lucky nature, swiftly eliminated, was replaced by one of
dejection and rage. The doctors agreed that her violent outbursts were
merely an effect of the grieving process, but for Ben they had become
intolerable. In an act of cowardice, creeping from the house as she'd
sobbed in despair, he'd selfishly abandoned their life together.

His last memory of Lilly revealed her clutching Mathew's pillow to her
chest, her body trembling with grief.

At that moment the pain of separation ripped viciously into his soul.
His heart cried out for her, longing for her touch as though his life
depended upon it.

Even now the scent of her perfume hung in the air, intoxicating him
with it's sweetness. Desiring to capture her fragrance forever, he
closed his eyes inhaling deeply. Cruelly this only served to increase
the strength of her aroma. If this were not torture enough, his
tormented mind now echoed the sound of her voice tenderly calling his
name.

At the sound of keys once more turning in locks, he solemnly raised his
gaze to greet the intrusion. The warder, no longer appearing so
despicably harsh, now smiled with a warmth that Ben had never
experienced before.

There beside him stood Lilly, her blind eyes swollen with tears as she
reached out for her beloved guide dog. At last Ben knew he was going
home.