She swiftly collected the keys from the kitchen table. She didn’t want to be here longer than necessary. She could barely stand to see the whitewash walls that had consumed her for twelve years let alone his face. She left the house in haste, unlocking the car door and reversing before safety precautions had even entered her mind.

At thirty-four she looked more like forty. Her eyes wrinkled at the corners from the burden of responsibility. Her skin had a mild grey hue that made her seem half dead. It’s funny how the ones we love can bring you to such a state. Staring out the windscreen, her thoughts wandered off the road, onto the pavement and manifested into the figure of her husband. Her once attractive hunk of a man now stood at the roadside, his paunch just visible over his greasy lounge pants, his hair uncombed and his face unshaven. He really had decided to let himself go. It’s not that she doesn’t love him, but his lifestyle now repulses her. Was she not worthy of his efforts? Was he so comfortable in his marriage he felt no threat? She had thought about leaving on many occasion. Her birthday last year, he simply signed the card “From Martin”, not an ounce of love was given and she spent her day cooking her own birthday tea, which he devoured in a heartbeat, before falling asleep in front of the TV. The light flickered over him as the images moved on the screen and it was as if he had lost every trace of emotion.

In no fit state to drive, Julie’s thoughts lined back up with her body and she realised she was driving in total darkness in the middle of nowhere. You’d have expected fear to rise within her, but instead she felt calm and relieved. She parked up but locked the doors internally. She checked her phone to see if her absence had been noted but the text from him plainly read, “Bring me a pizza on your way home.” She was nothing more than his personal skivvy. His bone idle behaviour resulted in her acting as his mother rather than his wife. Yet she knew, that as strong a person as she was, she would still return and keep up the façade of a happy marriage. She would let him believe he could live the life of luxury and she would attend to his every need. When deep down the girl who married the boy is locked away in a prison of vows, rattling the bars and screaming at the top of her lungs to be freed.

A tear rolled down her cheek and dripped onto the steering wheel. She always dealt with her problems by herself, her friends were none the wiser. But this time was different, she needed help. She flipped up her cell phone and scrolled through the contacts. Taking a deep breath she stopped a moment then shakily pressed the green call button. She brought the phone up to her ear and whispered “Mum?”

Abi Boyd is an undergraduate studying English Literature at Newcastle University. Since starting university she has developed a strong passion for writing prose and creating new characters and is now interested in pursuing a career in the creative field.