Rain Dance - Part 3

Rain Dance - Part 3

3.
It’s three in the morning and I’ve woken up half naked in the middle of some wood. Last thing I remember is the room spinning and her standing over me with a whip. No wonder I passed out. Now my head hurts like someone’s put a screw in it. Maybe even two screws.

I’m immediately aware I’m pretty cold and stumble to my feet noting I have my trainers on and no socks. I’m wearing jeans and flying, it transpires, commando. The moon is bright and I look around hoping there’s some more of my things and sure enough I see my T-shirt and then, mercifully, my Diesel denim jacket. My phone and wallet are safely still there which makes me think what the hell. The heavens have now opened and I do a kind of a rain dance as I put the rest of my clothes back on.

A car zooms past not so far away and I realise I’m not as in the middle of nowhere as I first thought.

I walk gingerly for 15 minutes or so towards the sound of the road hoping to thumb a lift back home. My head and body are aching in unison, a perfect pounding of the tune of pain.

Within an hour I’ve found a kind hearted lorry driver to pick me up. He’s an old guy, seen it all, and clearly just feels sorry for me.

‘Edinburgh?’ he asks as he pulls up in his 12 wheeler. I nod and pull myself up to the cabin with a struggle akin to that of climbing a sheer cliff face. We don’t speak no more. There’s ain’t no need. I lean my head on my jacket as a make shift pillow and let the hum of the engine ease my pains.

It was a wild party, that was all. For her I was the prey, stupidly easy to catch and just as easy to drop off like litter. Part of me is screaming at me for being so stupid and yet, well, and yet.