The station is cold and hectic, uniformed men and women going about their day oblivious to the fact I am going through the biggest torment of my life. It smells odd here, a mixture of sweat and sterile. Of metal and food. A mixture of scents that makes me already nauseated state significantly worse. Andrew is sat next to me, refusing to let go of my hand. He hasn't uttered a word since we got in his car. His mind is calculating, I can see that in the way his face twitches occasionally. 

In one ear I can hear Michael's anguish as the police turn up, the hurt and betrayal. How could you do this to me? The hatred when the police inevitably see that the fault is mine and leave us in the coldness of our home. I can hear Michael's distaste as he asks for a divorce, as he tells me he's done with my drama and childish ways. I wouldn't blame him. It's my insensitivity that caused all of this.

In the other ear I can hear Andrew's voice as I leave the station without him. I can hear his hurt and betrayal as he realises I'm not the woman he thought I was. That I am a coward. An antagoniser. That Michael's actions were a direct response to my work ethic and absence in our marriage. I can hear Andrew's voice as he ends this affair, walking out of my life for good. I wouldn't blame him either. 

I have a choice to make. I can't decide which is the right one to make. Do I talk to the police, or do I leave? Which would cause the most harm for the men in my life? For me? Is Michael really in the wrong? Would the police even believe me? If I speak to a man, I'm not so sure they would. Would they call me a liar and send me on my merry way? Would I be the one locked up for wasting police time? My head spins, I have to grip tightly to the arm of my chair to steady myself.

I know what I have to do, what I don't know is how. I look around me, calculating everybody's movements and body language. Trying to decide how to do this. Looking for a means of escape. I suppose I could use the toilet excuse. I've seen that in plenty of movies, there's always a window to escape out of. I make my excuse and head to the lavatories. Fuck. Bars on the windows. I'll have to make a run for it. 

I peek my head around the door, Andrew is sitting looking the other way. Waiting for the police officer to speak to us. To me. I've no time to lose. With him distracted I run as fast as I can. A woman scolds me but I don't stop. I can't stop. To stop means Andrew has time to catch up to me. I run through the stitch, the cramp in my leg, the breathlessness. I keep running until I physically can't anymore. I collapse under a tree nearby, out of sight of the path. I breathe deeply until I can breathe normally. Pulling my phone from my purse I phone a taxi. Time to go home.