Notes

Under pressure:Forgotten

The smooth silence broken by the roar of an engine. Louder and louder it grew. The boy looked up, a bright light. Then nothing.

The alarm rang. Progressively getting more frequent and more annoying than before. Mark rolled and made a desperate lunge for the mad inducing machine; his attempt was in vain for seconds later he slammed his face against the floor. Disgruntled he got up; it was nearly time for work. Once he was ready he rang Joe to pick him up. "Mark!" He exclaimed, "last night was a blast."
"Was it?" Marks memory of the previous night couldn't be recalled. Whilst he waited for Joe to arrive he tried sorting through his memory's to only receive a headache and a less that satisfactory feeling.

The doorbell ringing took Marks attention and before long he was in Joes car on the way to work. Both nursing hangovers the drive to work was quiet, to Marks discomfort Joe turned the radio on.
Before he could even complain the news anchor took all feeling out of Mark. He froze unwilling to register his existence.

They were speaking about his car. His route that he goes home. Even roughly the same time Mark drives home from work. Mark started to question himself. Why did Joe pick him up? Why didn't he drive himself to work? A flood of emotion seized his body; he couldn't fathom what was going on.
The news was still seeping out the radio, Mark was only catching bits of sentences. "Hit and run" "no suspects" "boy dead". Mark had remembered what happened last night. Slowly he turned to Joe who had gone pale white, he didn't look back.

Under his breath Mark muttered "station". Joe swung the car around and before soon they were parked outside of the Police Station. Mark took a second to look at his surroundings and dwell on what he needed to do.

The sun was falling from the sky and still they sat in front of the police station, they had been talking for most of the afternoon. Not about anything in particular but just general subjects: life, the future, anything to pass the time. Mark looked at Joe as a single tear rolled down his cheek, they shook hands and Joe cracked a joke about being late for work. Mark left the car and walked to the station. Every step forcing more weight down upon his shoulders as if his whole body was crying out; pleading with him to stop.He didn't look back. He didn't dare. Deep breaths stopped him crying out.

Soon he was faced with an officer. She was bright eyed and looked happy. "How can I help you?"
"You can't" Her expression suddenly darkened a contorted mix of concern and suspicion sprawled across her face. Marks eyes started watering so he proceeded so speak facing the floor.
Mark suddenly realised. He was responsible, he was the one to blame. He looked up with determination in his eyes.
"I'm Mark Arthur"
"Last night I was driving home from work, around 11:30.... I was drunk"
"I believe I killed that boy".