"The next few hours were spent washing, ironing, cleaning, surfing and other small activities which were natural diversions to take the evening to sleep time. Another meeting tomorrow and the thought of it filled him with dread- it had gotten to the point that all interaction with groups of new people was too much to bear. Three days ago he had contemplated facing his manager and explaining how he felt but as usual he swept the problem under the carpet and hoped that others had not noticed the nervousness. Despite this reluctance to face up to the issue he knew that time was limited in his current role and that a period of long term sickness would be forced on him which scared him more than anything else. Getting through the days at work and the nights at home were just so difficult but at least during the day he was away from the silence."

The children stared at him from the photo frame on the shelf, from a time when he was a hero who knew everything, from a time when he was the funniest man in the world who loved more than he thought possible.

The half smoked cigarette burned the astray having just added a few more cancerous cells to his lungs but he didn't care- the future was the least of his worries. It was a future filled with the same day over and over again and all he could see was conference calls, emails, meetings and TV. No time spent drinking with friends down the pub talking about football and music and very rare outings with work colleagues which bored him to oblivion and only served to make him feel more lonely. Having a couple of drinks in between games of ten pin bowling was really not his cup of tea especially as he was crap at the game.

After an hour the LCD screen started to blur and his head lightly smacked the desk as sleep overcame him and took him to a place where he could not hurt anymore.

"Marc, please be careful. This weather's awful." The rain splashed against the windscreen and fragmented into small magnifying splodges of water which made the task of seeing the road ahead and other vehicles even more difficult. Marc still felt safe at his customary eighty miles per hour in the outside lane.

"I'm fine Ruth, stop worrying. I have done this trip a hundred times before and never had a problem." The 'tut' at the end of his sentence highlighting his annoyance. Billy and Meg were asleep in the back of the car and had no idea weather like this was dangerous and that their father felt invincible at the wheel of a car.

"I'm just saying that's all. How would you feel if something bad happened?"

"Nothing's going to happen- you want to get home before midnight don't you?" Ruth rolled her eyes.

"I just want to get home in one piece thanks." Silence took over for a few miles.

Marc was awoken by the sound of his PDA beeping. It was 7am and he was still at the desk but could feel a hard object pressing against his right ear- it was the mouse. The thirty seconds following sleep were his favourite part of the day- as his mind started to put together memories for a brief moment he was not the person with so much anger and bitterness inside. He was just an ordinary guy with ordinary worries.

He decided to take a look at his emails but lost interest fairly quickly and headed up to the bathroom. The November chill was especially apparent as he stepped into the shower and waited for the warm steamy water to bring his aching body back to life. He felt as though he had slept on a rock and could not dislodge the ache at the bottom of his spine. Despite the number of times he had decided never to fall asleep sitting at the desk again it still happened far too often.

The end of the shower brought back the November chill so he quickly walked to the bedroom where the radiators had started to dissipate condensation on the windows and let the morning sun peak through the gap in the curtains. As usual the work suit, tie, socks, shoes and pants were all laid out in perfect order and ironed as perfectly as could be. His obsession with having every little thing 'done' had become more intense since it happened and sub-consciously he knew it was just a way to fill time and to give him a sense of achievement no matter how minor.

The ten minute journey to work followed the same pattern as every other day. The queue at the traffic lights, the children walking across the zebra crossing guided by the chubby lollipop lady and the inevitable scramble to get into the single lane as it narrowed from two. These days he didn't care who went past him and how close they got to taking his bumper off.

After he had made morning coffee and exchanged pleasantries with people he barely knew he sat at his desk taking the laptop out of his briefcase and logging on for the boredom ahead. A couple of people looked up and meekly said 'Good Morning' but to this day they still seemed ill at ease with Marc's presence.

He had always been the jovial life and soul of the party and his team was well known for working hard and having fun at the same time. He had tried desperately not to change since it happened but knew that it would never be the same again. The people around him had changed as much as he had and the gap between them was more than apparent. There was no pressure anymore from his manager and people under him did not question his ideas, they simply followed instructions. No matter what he did or where he went the actions of those around him were a constant reminder of what he was now.

Every conference call and meeting followed the same pattern. People knew of the situation and stayed well away. Looks of pity greeted Marc wherever he went and some days it all became too much. He would leave early causing colleagues to presume he was still grieving but in actual fact he just needed to get away from them, as far away as possible.

The times he had thought of leaving and moving away were too many to count. He knew that it was the only way to start life again but the thought of interviews, moving and dealing with so many people now scared him- the confidence was gone, replaced with an empty shell which felt guilty every minute of every day.

He was glad that Ruth had fallen asleep because their little spat could not continue. The rain had worsened and even Marc lowered his speed to seventy miles per hour on account of the fact he could see very little. There was no moon and the motorways lighting was barely up to scratch. The talk show on the radio was not noticeable as he battled with the weather and constant aquaplaning- the roadside barriers seemed to swerve towards him when he lost visibility for a single second and eventually he decided to move over to what he called the 'old persons' lane.

Checking his mirror was fruitless but he was confident that there was no one in the middle lane…

"Marc. Are you OK?" Vanessa's whisper interrupted the memories and made Marc realise that he had left the meeting without anyone else noticing.

"I'm fine." Trying to concentrate on what was being said but struggling to hold interest. Since it happened he had become nervous, even worrying about the simple introductions at the start of meetings. He could feel himself flush and gently shake when he had to speak to more than two people and no matter how irrational he understood it to be that did not stop his body doing it.

His participation in these meetings was barely noticeable and he no longer had those innovative ideas which had moved him up the corporate ladder so quickly. He had been a great communicator, able to deal with people of all levels and personality but now projected little more than sentences with little meaning.

The meeting carried on in what seemed like another place to Marc. People talked about projections, forecasts and motivation but none of it even scratched the surface of Marc's interest. The blank pad in front of him stayed blank and it was obvious that no-one was going to draw his attention away from the paper. Indeed, his job was at risk but no-one in the company had been brave enough to face the challenge of discussing his work performance face to face and to date he had been allowed to just get through each day without adding anything productive. The time was coming for someone to challenge him and get the problem out into the open- after all it had been five months since it happened.

He stared at the Styrofoam cup and added coffee, sugar and milk to the boiling water. The meeting had been pointless and it felt like another morning had just floated by in between thoughts and memories. The small round table in the relaxation area was one of the few places in which he felt safe as his hands cradled the warm cup for comfort.

People walked past and occasionally someone would stop to make a coffee or tea but Marc watched the swirls of milk spin around in the cup while the thoughts spun around in his mind. A girl stopping to make a cup of coffee caught Marc's attention. He had his iPod plugged in and was listening to Neil Diamond when she arrived. For the past two months solemn music had become a habit and 'Hello Again' was soothing his ears.

She was wearing tight black nylon trousers, a white top and a shawl but it was her hair that he noticed first- dead straight and naturally blond. She turned slightly to get some milk and Marc saw her face for the first time causing his heart to jump. It was purely a physical reaction as his emotions were too frayed to understand feelings at this time. As quick as she had arrived she was gone.

The drive home was the same as the drive to work only in reverse. BMWs ploughed through anyone who got in their way and Smart cars plodded along as only Smart cars can. The house was dark when he arrived home and a flick of the hall light revealed the now familiar silence the house was home to.

The next few hours were spent washing, ironing, cleaning, surfing and other small activities which were natural diversions to take the evening to sleep time. Another meeting tomorrow and the thought of it filled him with dread- it had gotten to the point that all interaction with groups of new people was too much to bear. Three days ago he had contemplated facing his manager and explaining how he felt but as usual he swept the problem under the carpet and hoped that others had not noticed the nervousness. Despite this reluctance to face up to the issue he knew that time was limited in his current role and that a period of long term sickness would be forced on him which scared him more than anything else. Getting through the days at work and the nights at home were just so difficult but at least during the day he was away from the silence.

The iPod was attached to his ear drums again and the solemn music played for the umpteenth time. It was a kind of self torture which he almost seemed to enjoy- a penance for crimes past. He deserved to be punished, he deserved to spend a lifetime alone regretting what he had done and he deserved no happiness to enter his life again. These were the thoughts that ran through his mind and his very broken heart- it was a physical pain which pulsed through veins, caused a chest to tighten and a head to ache as though it had a huge tumor swelling up inside it.

… he was confident that there was no one in the middle lane.

The first bang was almost surreal as the car span to the right and narrowly avoided the crash barrier but the second shunt from behind stole consciousness immediately.

The car was a mess as fire crews and paramedics battled to keep the family alive and pull them from the wreckage. The sound of hydraulic tools grating against the metal was sickening and the unconscious occupants looked like sleeping children being shaken awake by angry parents. The desperate battle was ignored by miles of frustrated motorists who sat waiting in the pouring rain just wanting to get home to their centrally heated palaces.

The deep gash in Billy's forehead was an obvious indicator that his short 5 year life had come to an end. His skin was flush and he looked as peaceful as a cat asleep in front of the fireplace. His arms lay by his side and his left hand held his favourite toy- a furry bear that his Daddy had given him when he was 8 months old. The bear, Moggy, had been his constant companion on trips to the park, days out with the family and most importantly at bed time. Tears ran down the face of the newly qualified fireman as he battled to free Meg from the child seat next to Billy. The hydraulic tool was tearing at the metal above him as he checked her neck for a pulse which was barely noticeable but there was still a pulse, a pulse for him to concentrate on. The sight of Billy lying so quietly with the bear in his hand was too much to take in. He felt as though he were invading Billy's space by leaning over him but kept his hand on Meg's neck and tried with all his will not to look at him.

Tiny tears were in her closed eyes and he really did not want to think that she had been conscious enough to feel pain but as the rain and wind lashed the crumpled vehicle and the lights of the waiting cars gave them visibility he continued to check her pulse. Paramedics were waiting to see the children and he had to be forcibly dragged away to let the experts in- Billy was ignored by the first paramedic who made a snap judgement and concentrated on Meg who had vague signs of life. As he examined her the roof snapped off like the lid of a baked bean tin and three people gathered round to assess her situation. The mood was somber but professional as they carefully cut the seat belt from the car seat which had sustained a fair amount of damage. The paramedic lifted the seat up and ran to the nearest ambulance followed by a nurse in a dark winter coat. The ambulance left at a speed completely alien to the conditions that night.