"The next few hours were spent washing, ironing, cleaning, surfing and other small activities which were natural diversions to take the evening to sleep time. Another meeting tomorrow and the thought of it filled him with dread- it had gotten to the point that all interaction with groups of new people was too much to bear. Three days ago he had contemplated facing his manager and explaining how he felt but as usual he swept the problem under the carpet and hoped that others had not noticed the nervousness. Despite this reluctance to face up to the issue he knew that time was limited in his current role and that a period of long term sickness would be forced on him which scared him more than anything else. Getting through the days at work and the nights at home were just so difficult but at least during the day he was away from the silence."

The bed was empty yet again as Marc fell asleep on the sofa- his neck held at a sharp angle against the leather arm and his bad leg drooping towards the carpet. His left leg ached most days and the injury had precluded Marc from undertaking any activity which may cause undue downward pressure on his shin bone. It was held together by four metal pins and he was well aware that the pain would probably continue for the rest of his life.

His dreams had consistently echoed back to five months previous but tonight he shared the 'car' dream with a bizarre one about the girl he had seen at work making coffee. She was standing on the other side of a lake to him and was obviously shouting but no sound came out. She had tears in her eyes and was pleading with Marc but he could not see what she wanted. Her frustration was apparent and she starting kicking the ground around her until there was a prefect circle of dirt around her feet. He tried to move but was rooted to the spot, he held his arm out and she did the same. She stopped shouting and looked into his eyes, the distance between them was about fifty feet but he could see her green eyes in vivid detail. They were the most beautiful 'adult' eyes he had ever seen and said more to him than any words ever could. They showed kindness, a deep insecurity and emotion the like of which he had never seen before. As he took in his vision of her he could see something special.

She could never have the most beautiful eyes- Billy and Meg held that prize for as long as he breathed.

As he fell into the water the splash woke him with a start. The sofa enveloped him but could not protect him from the sharp night air which was affecting the bad leg. He sat up, rubbed his eyes and headed to the back door. The cigarette smoke swirled towards the dark sky and even though he was shaking he held the vision of her in his mind for as long as he could. It was a vision that could not be real, dreams never were and he had read that dreams contain events that are the least likely to occur. He could not remember how she looked from his brief glimpse earlier in the day but he knew that it could not have been as she did in his dream.

The thoughts stopped when the 'car' dream re-entered his mind and guilt dragged away one of the few positive thoughts experienced in months. He threw the cigarette and hobbled upstairs to the bedroom leaving his dreams downstairs and his emotions burning with the cigarette on the grass.

Ruth was no longer in the passenger seat, having already been taken to hospital in the first ambulance. The emergency crews had not needed to cut her out of the car but the fact that her Air Bag had not inflated was enough to cause them concern and remove her even before the children. Marc was slumped with his head tipped back on the drivers seat and was mumbling incoherent sentences to no one in particular- the doctor sedated him and they spent the next twenty minutes working on removing his left leg from below the brake pedal, desperately trying to keep it attached to the rest of him.

The traffic crawled past the accident scene as the rubber neckers strained to see as much of the carnage as possible. Children said 'wow', adults said 'ouch' and carried on with their lives completely unaware of the tragedy they were witnessing the aftermath of. The two cars and lorry sat in the outside lane surrounded by cones, Marc's car barely recognisable. In a few hours the scene would be cleared up and no evidence of what had happened would remain, at least for those not involved.

The night was cool and sleep came easy for the first time in what seemed like forever. The sound of the alarm seemed softer today and did not jolt him from sleep as he laid alone and stared at the artex swirls above him. The duvet enveloped him and the thought of getting out of bed was not pleasant as he watched his breath in the air just over his mouth.

"Marc Barchol." He announced himself to the other conference call participants and heard a couple of murmured 'Hellos' in the background. The call progressed as most of them did with a couple of bum biters trying to sound impressive in front of their bosses and the rest obviously thinking about anything except the call.

He checked emails as the virtual conversation continued and was only drawn away from his screen by the same vision he had last night in his dream. She walked towards the printer which was about fifteen feet away and counted the pages in her hands. Her clothes were different today but of exactly the same style as the day before. As she turned from the printer she seemed to take in his stare peripherally but he presumed it was his imagination. She casually walked back across the office and out of sight- his call continued to go nowhere.

Bits of paper were strewn on the desk and the emails listed on his screen represented work he had either been unable to resolve or work he simply did not want to complete. In any other time of his life he would have been concerned about the workloads but at the moment the mounting pressure was bypassing him completely until he realised that what was on the screen could be a visual representation of his life- no direction, no order and utter chaos in the mind of the owner.

As he sat staring at the mess on the desk he realised that the depression he was experiencing was actually a good sign. Up until today he had not cared how bad his life was and preferred to wallow in the past and to punish himself for a stupid moment which had cost him everything. The guilt hovered over him like a cartoon cloud as he imagined people staring at him and knowing what he had done all of the time.

"Marc…" Maureen looked comfortingly at her battered son lying in the sterile hospital bed. She had an air of dread about her which she hoped to hide from Marc. His father, Bill, sat in a chair on the opposite side with his hand on his cheek- he was so glad that Mark had stirred but so sad at what he had to be told.

Maureen pressed the call bell and a nurse arrived to look at Marc. She leant over him and gave him a composed smile whilst checking his blood pressure and vital signs. "Welcome back Marc. I just need to get the doctor to check you over." She left the room quickly leaving Maureen and Bill to deal with the situation.

He continued to stare at the ceiling and tried to put the pieces of memory together to work out why he was in this room with his mother and father. Slowly the realisation hit him but when it did it hit hard- he could remember the sound of his car being hit, the weather, the deep darkness of night and even losing consciousness. As the minutes passed thoughts came back to him and he could even remember being worked on in the car and the nurse's soothing words back dropped against that relentless rain.

"Where's Ruth?" Marc shouted his question causing his mother to sit bolt upright and look to Bill for support which he seemed incapable of offering. Her mothering instinct took over and she leaned forward to take his hand in hers, the tears starting to fall from her ageing eyes.

"Oh Marc…" Her words trailed off but Marc understood immediately and stared blankly at the ceiling, again. The tears could not form as the shock took over and the heart machine beeped a warning. Within seconds a doctor breezed into the room closely followed by the nurse who had just attended to him. He told Marc to stay calm but it was of no use as he started to shout and swear at random until the convulsions started. The doctor took a syringe, injected it into a bottle and then into Marc's arm in one swift practiced motion. He slumped back onto the bed unconscious.

"What happened?" The doctor looked to Maureen for answers.

"He asked where Ruth was and I couldn't hide the truth…" At which point her head fell into her hands and tears began to drip through clenched fingers. The doctor placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and quietly left the room.

Lunch today was the same as every other- an Ocean Flake sandwich and orange juice on a wooden tray. Marc sat alone in the corner of the restaurant eating quietly and watching one of the televisions hanging from the ceiling. He liked the televisions as they provided a distraction and also gave him something to concentrate on other than the crowd of diners. He had always felt uncomfortable when surrounded by strangers and thought more than he should about his actions- every movement felt as though it were being watched and he usually kept as still as possible so as not to draw attention. Almost everyone in the company restaurant was accompanied by a friend or colleague as they chatted and laughed through their lunches.

He wasn't even concentrating on the TV but continued to stare at the screen whilst he ate. In truth no one had noticed him in the corner except Susannah Kepp who watched Marc's obvious discomfort while her friend rambled on about the previous evening activities with her boyfriend. She could see something in Marc which appealed to her and she found herself openly staring at him until her friend interrupted.

"Are you listening to me?"

"…uh, of course I am." She blushed hoping that her staring had not been too obvious. She looked down at the salad on her tray and did not feel like eating anymore. Despite the fact that she was only eight stone and of very slight build she constantly worried about her weight and exercised more than she needed to.

"When he wakes up next time we need to be very careful. He is in a poor state and the news could cause some complications if he takes it as badly as we expect him to."

Maureen was now very agitated. "Well, what the hell can we do? He knows about Ruth and when I tell him about Billy it will break his heart!" She stood up, clenching her fists in frustration. Despite Marc's age he was still her last born and would always be her little boy. Bill stood behind her and placed both hands on her shoulders. He could barely control his grief but tried to remain strong- Billy had been named after him and when Marc had told him it was the proudest moment of his life. He loved his grandchildren more than anything and had fulfilled his dream of a loving stable family. The dream was lying in tatters around him time but more than anything he could not stand the thought of Marc knowing that his wife and son were dead.

The news on the TV was showing images of another terrorist attack in Iraq which seemed to be a daily occurrence for lunch times now. He tried to reconcile the hell the people on the TV were going through with his own private troubles but could not reach out to them emotionally. Charred bodies laid on streets next to burnt out cars, soldiers ran around like headless chickens and women screamed in pain as they searched for their husbands. He just sat, staring at the drama as though it were a film.

She sat. Staring.