Tom parked roughly and switched off the ignition. The cabin fell into a close silence, broken only by the tick of the cooling engine. Braced against the door, Sarah regarded him closely. He sat frozen, staring into the gathering gloom. Strange muscles coiled around his jaw, taut enough to crack teeth.

‘Now,’ commanded the Gebbeth.

Tom shivered into life and blinked furiously. Sarah tensed. His voice was heavy and hoarse.
‘I’ve decided that I’m no good for you, Sarah. I have to get out of your life.’

Pent for hours, her tears rolled at last.

‘I’m sick of not being good enough. Sick of failing, and never doing anything right. F*cking up everything and making you miserable every day.’

‘I knew you were going to do this,’ murmured Sarah faintly, ‘from your email.’

Tom gathered speed. ‘I’ve tried so hard to be a good person. Tried to do the right thing. I have to go. It’s the right thing to do. It’s all I can do. I must get away from you. I’ve thought about this for ages. It’s the only way. I have to go.’

Sarah sought his eyes through a thick lens of tears. ‘Are you saying that we're actually breaking up, Tommy - that this is what you really want?’

The loaded question writhed in his brain. Nauseous and dizzy, Tom watched his answer gel from pure self-hatred. A single word that would sever his connection with sweet, unprecedented love, and one so clear and cruel as to destroy even Sarah’s long suffering resolve. He turned away, shut his eyes and disgorged it like a snake pellet.

‘Yes.’

Impaled, Sarah shrank and wept.

Reeling from the effort, yet goaded to pursue his advantage, Tom began to rabbit. 'You're better off without me. I am, literally, insane. You've seen it. Jesus, you've put up with it for f*cking months! I've tried the psychiatrist; I've tried the anti-depressants, I've talked to people till they've turned off in disgust. This is how I am. This is my destiny. This is me, alright?!

I betrayed Angela, I've hurt you God knows how many times and you keep coming back and I keep doing it again and I can't f*cking STAND IT anymore! I've got to go! You deserve better. They're out there, you'll see; plenty of worthy men. Just let me go to my concrete cell and die in peace and you go on with you're life.'

His eyes were hot and dry, and he made curt, emphatic gestures. The windows fogged, screening them from home goers as Sarah burst tissue after tissue with snot. Though struggling hard to control herself, her attention pricked at Tom's last sentence. Through wretched sobs, she managed with effort to articulate a question.

'What concrete cell?'

To be continued...