How far would you go? (Currently Editing)

Russell

Russell stepped out of The Anchor Inn and pulled his coat up tight. It was a wintry night, and he would have preferred to stay in his warm room, tucked up in bed. It was difficult to sleep while the Inn was open. The rooms were situated above the bar, and the music travelled through the thin floors and into the rooms. He might as well have been sitting at the bar in his pyjamas. Despite Russell's attempts to sleep, the headache kept pounding harder and harder, until he could take it no longer. He would drive to the 24hr superstore and pick up some medicine. By the time he returned, The Anchor Inn would be closed, and he could finally get some sleep.

Russell's fight with Luke had left a few bruises, some had yellowed into nasty marks. Luke no doubt had the same, and if their fight had continued, one of them would have ended up visiting the hospital. It saddened to him to think about their fight. They had been friends for a long time and rarely fought, and when they did it was harmless. This time seemed different. Luke was genuinely cross and raged at Russell like a wild animal. That had never happened before. Thankfully, Russell had managed to escape before Luke lost his mind. He could hardly believe it had happened. How had his best friend turned into an enemy?

Climbing into his car, Russell decided he would try and make amends tomorrow. He could not let this continue. The longer he avoided Luke, the worse things would get, and he and Luke would start hating each other. They had been through a lot. Luke losing Jessica, Russell having to cope with Debbie's death. Those were traumatic events, and Luke had been venting off stream. Russell would have done the same. Although Russell wondered if it really was wild talk. Luke wanted to kill him and nothing Russell said or did could stop Luke. He was out of control. He was mad, like he was possessed. Russell dismissed those thoughts and focused on curing his headache.

The car quickly warmed up, and Russell drove down the quiet street. He wondered who would have killed his beloved Debbie. He still could not believe she was dead and expected her to start talking while he drove. She loved to chat. Longs drives were filled with endless hours or Debbie talking about everything and nothing, droning on and on. That is what Russell thought at the time, and often hoped she would take a breath. He would give anything just to hear Debbie's voice. Her witty tales and stories about someone at the shop, or a friend who had done something extremely bad. All he heard was the sound of the engine and the wheels against the road. This was unreal. Debbie could not be dead. Yet, Russell knew the truth, despite his attempts to pretend it was all a bad dream. Someone had killed Debbie. Why? He had no idea.

A terrible thought filled his head, as he turned on to the main road. If someone had killed Debbie, did that mean someone could be after him? Impossible. What had he done? Debbie was a baker, and he was a security guard at the mall. He had never robbed a bank, or double crossed a criminal boss, or cheated with another woman. Why would someone want to kill him? Yet, someone had killed Debbie. She had done something to someone. If Russell could figure that out, it might help him understand who would want to kill his wife.

He glanced in the rear-view mirror before changing lanes and noticed the bright headlights of a car behind him. There were no other vehicles on the road, and Russell briefly acknowledged the lights and then went back to his thoughts. He was too busy thinking about Debbie to register that the car behind him was following him. If Russell had noticed, he might have realised that he was about to meet Debbie's killer. Consumed with questions, Russell continued his journey toward the superstore, hoping to ease the pounding headache, and get some sleep.

He drove a little faster and smiled to himself, remembering the day of Luke's wedding. Luke had been extremely nervous that day, and despite Russell's attempts to relax him, Luke kept vomiting.

'Hey buddy,' asked Russell, leaning against the toilet cubicle. 'You OK?'
All he heard was the sound of vomiting, and moaning, as Luke emptied the contents of his stomach.
'Hope you're not messing up that tux?' joked Russell. He heard another gut-wrenching vomit. 'Have you got anything left in there?' asked Russell, trying to lighten the situation.
The cubicle door opened, and Luke stepped out, looking pale.
'I can't do this,' complained Luke.
'Sure you can,' said Russell. 'Just get out there and you will be fine. Your beautiful bride will be waiting. Come on. Let's clean you up and get ready.'
'Thanks mate,' said Luke. 'I'm glad you're here.'
'What are best friends for.'