As I sat there wondering whether it would be ok, whether I would escape the four walls or be present in them or at least a set of four just like them for quite a long time, it dawned on me that it was all my own doing. Nothing would get me out of here. The small light in the roof allowed in enough light to see light or dark to confirm day or night and that there would be no escape.

As I sat with my own thoughts,- I knew only had myself to blame, not quite sure what I had done this time, due to the amount of alcohol consumed only hours earlier, the thought crossed my mind that I may have gone a drink too far this time. The knock on the cell door came, “you wanna brew mate?” I replied with a resounding, “yes please”, the officer taken a back by my manners replied, “5mins mate”. I literally had no idea what I had done, I knew it was serious by the amount of blood still stained on my hands and various vague memories of the previous night before (which had actually been 2 nights before). When I tentatively asked why I was there, what had I done and what day it was, there was a chuckle and reply that told me it was Monday morning.

Fuck, I left our house 16:45 straight after the football and said I would be back in a couple of hours.... on Saturday. Shit! Who was I in more trouble with, my long suffering partner who I live more than anything or the law. The latter bothered me a little but nothing compared to the thought of arriving home to an empty house.

When I was eventually granted bail and let go with no charge, all I got was a dead tone on the other side. Had she blocked me, had she left to stay at her mums which was often the threat or had I really guckednit this time?

I ran the four bus stops I would’ve needed to take fro t gestation tomorrow house but what greeted me was worse than I could’ve ever imagined......