He Drove Her To It

The first time I met him I was young, naïve and rebellious. My parents had had control of my life for 18 years and as soon as I finished college I knew that I needed to leave and start living my life the way I wanted. However there was a problem with this. You see, I wanted to become a musician but my parents wanted me to study English Literature at University, they were paying and therefore I had to go. Without a job or any money of my own I could not become the famous musician that I had craved to be for the majority of my short and uneventful life, so I did as they pleased.

The summer flew by and the leaves on the trees were slowly turning from the beautiful green to the warm and welcoming red and orange signalling the beginning of Autumn. The time soon came for me to go to University and, although my parents were against it, a University as far away from my hometown as possible. I loaded the car with a couple of boxes my suitcase and guitar, all full of necessities and a few home comforts, and prepared for the five hour journey that awaited inside the pristine aluminium box that my parents thought of as their pride and glory. Armed with my headphones, mobile phone and water bottle, I sat in the backseat of the car and took one last look at the cottage that had been my home, my prison, for the last 18 years. My parents joined me shortly after, silently starting the engine and smiling lightly as the car began to purr beautifully. As we backed out of the driveway I put my headphones in my ears and began to fall asleep as the music washed over me, relaxing ever muscle in my body. That's the strange, and yet wonderful,  thing about music, it's ability to completely relax you even in the most nerve-racking situations (which this certainly was).

I managed to sleep for around four out of the five hours due to the lack of sleep I had had the previous night, I thanked the anxiety of going somewhere new for the first time for that. This was the start of a new life for me and I had everything planned out in my mind. I was going to do all the work needed to graduate but at the same time I was going to juggle a job of some sorts and perform any chance I had at the local pubs and Student Union. I needed music in my life in some way or another and if that meant that I would struggle to have any form of a social life then so be it. I was highly doubting meeting any friends there and if I did they would have to understand and accept my busy schedule. I was willing to do anything, lose anything, to achieve my dream. There was no doubt in my mind that my life wouldn't go the way I planned, like I said earlier, I was naïve.

I spent the final hour of the journey staring out of the car window at the beautiful scenery making small talk with my parents.

"Do you know anyone going here?" my mother asked.

"No. Victoria is going to Manchester to study Astrophysics, her dream." I, regretfully, spat out the last part. I was incredibly spiteful towards my inability to pursue my dream whilst the people I knew could. This 'dream' thing is becoming a recurring theme as you can probably tell.

"And Marie?" my father added in a tone that seemed to say 'if you speak to your mother like that again I will turn this car around and you will go to the university I want you to go to'.

"Cambridge. Biomedicine." I replied with a touch of fear in my voice, which made my father smirk slightly. We spent the rest of the journey in silence as I concentrated on the new scenery.

Not long after we pulled up to the university complex and I quickly said goodbye to my parents whilst convincing them that I could manage all my belongings in a useless and failing attempt to get them to leave. They walked me to my accommodation and placed the boxes they were carrying in my room. With a small smile and a couple of tears they said goodbye and hurried away mumbling that I should 'call and visit often'. After they left I began to unpack my limited belongings and make my bed before, armed with my guitar, checking out the complex.

It was a huge place full of people and my uneasiness began to set in quicker than easier. I walked with purpose and acted like I knew where I was going in an attempt to avoid any attention that may fall upon me. Luckily after a while I came across a tourist map and looked for the place that would be my safe haven, the open mic bar.

The time was about 6pm when I arrived at the bar. It was an old place and yet it did not look rundown, the bricks were still the original red colour and the door propped open letting out the amazing smell of pub food (which unfortunately made my stomach growl violently as I realised that I hadn't eaten in hours). I entered carefully and made my way to a table in the corner nearest to the stage. Food was the only thing on my mind so I placed my guitar down and went to the bar to order some chips and gravy with a beer. The perfect 'meal' to relax with.

That's when I first noticed him.

I could feel his eyes staring intently at me from across the bar, following my every move. I did not dare look right at him for an intense fear rose up inside of me (I should have probably listened to that gut feeling) instead, whilst paying, I looked out of the corner of my eye and to my utter relief the person seemed to be only a couple of years older than me. However, I still felt a little uncomfortable with him staring at me like that so I returned to my seat trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes burning into the back of my skull.

The person performing on stage was pretty good, they were singing a rendition of a song that I recalled from my early teen years. I think it was called 'Sugar, We're Going Down' and I can't for the life of me remember the name of the band who wrote it originally. They seemed nervous and a little irritated at the fact that no one was paying any attention to them. As they finished I clapped and they looked at me with a thankful smile.

Now was my time to shine.

I wiped my hands, grabbed my guitar and clambered onto the stage. With a weak smile I told the few people who were listening my name and jokingly explained the fact that I lacked the talent of singing and was just going to play the guitar. I plugged my red Gibson SG into the amplifier, took a deep breath and started to play. A wave of calmness set over me as I felt the fear of this new place leave me with every note. Then I noticed him properly.

The light from the bar lit him up perfectly and I realised that he was still staring at me. His brown hair flopped into his eyes and his black skinny jeans clung tightly to his legs as he leaned on the wooden bar top, drink in hand. He was wearing a leather jacket which was incredibly brave of him as it was extremely warm in the building and even warmer outside on that September night. I finished up playing and left the stage and the bar quickly as it was getting late and I had to be up early for my first class the next day. I couldn't help but notice on the way out his smile as his followed my every step.

He drove me crazy. That phrase holds a completely different meaning now. Are you starting to see why I was so compelled to him?

The police officer nodded cautiously before urging the woman to continue.