The Date

June looked at herself in the mirror and felt nervous. But on this occasion, it was the good nervous.

She was getting ready for her first date with Paul, a man she'd met online on one of those new fangled dating apps all her friends raved about, something she never would have dreamed about doing in the past. But this wasn't the past, this was now. June was a different person now, in so many ways.

She first interacted with Paul around three weeks ago. After much goading from her best friend, Amy, she finally relented and signed up for the popular app. A few days later, she noticed Paul's profile, and felt an instant attraction. The feeling must have been mutual as a couple of days later, she received a message from him. He was 34, recently divorced, and the proud owner of a beautiful yacht. An investment banker in the city, and the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen. After chatting online for a couple of weeks, he'd plucked up the courage to ask her out on a proper date, and tonight was the night. This was why she felt the good nervous.

She'd certainly experienced the other kind too.

June had met Daniel when she was just seventeen. It was her first ever outing to the local nightclub. Through a mutual friend, they were introduced, and they had hit it off straight away. He was 21 at the time, tall, and very handsome, and she was smitten immediately. They dated for around six months before Daniel popped the question to her on her 18th birthday. Her parents had reservations about getting married so young, but she didn't. They were married in the local church a year later, and moved into their first home a few months after that. Daniel was making good money in construction, and she was developing her passion for writing. They were very much in love, and every Saturday night, they would have a romantic dinner indoors. She would have a shower, and there would always be a glass of Merlot and a single red rose waiting for her at the dinner table as he prepared the meal. Life was good.

The cracks started to appear slowly at first. The odd comment about her dress on a night out. A few playful nudges about her weight. The concern about the amount of time she was spending with her friends. And then came the night that changed everything.

They were having their Saturday dinner when Daniel produced a letter that had arrived in the post earlier that day. Addressed to June, but he thought it appropriate to open on her behalf. It was a letter from an old school friend, Dave, who had emigrated to Australia a few years earlier, but was back in the country for a month soon, and wanted to meet up for a coffee. They had been friends since primary school, and had been brought up on the same street. There was never any chemistry between them, and it didn't surprise June when he came out just after his 16th birthday.

None of this mattered to Daniel, however. His cheeks were the colour of the wine as he slammed the letter on the table. She tried to explain but he simply lifted the glass of wine, threw the contents over her face, and shouted 'whore' before getting up and going out, slamming the door behind him. For the first time in her life, she felt afraid.

As the weeks went on, the abuse got worse. Her writing stopped, she started to wear frumpy, plain clothes. And she needed more make-up to cover up the black eyes which were becoming more commonplace. She couldn't turn to anyone as he'd forbidden her to speak to any of her friends or family, and had even confiscated her phone.

On a Saturday night, almost five years to the day, she'd had enough.

The glass of wine and the rose were on the table as always as she entered the dining room. He smiled at her, a smile that was once warm and loving, but was now cold and menacing. She looked him in the eye and said, 'Kiss me, I need you tonight'. Daniel's smile widened as he approached her from the table. As their lips met, June plunged the knife she had hidden into his stomach. His eyes bulged with shock as she withdrew the knife and plunged it back in again. She screamed in a mixture of anger and relief, grabbed the keys from his belt and ran out the house. She never saw him again.

That was five years ago, and tonight was the first time she'd gone on a date since. Paul sounded charming, and they'd chatted online for weeks, but she was still naturally wary. After all, Daniel had also been charming in the beginning.

She was wearing a long black dress, one she had bought for the occasion. She smiled as she reminisced how Daniel would never have allowed her to wear such a thing, and felt an enormous sense of freedom. They were meeting in her favourite restaurant in town, a cosy little Italian place that served the best pasta in the area. She arrived on time, happier and more excited than she had been in years. The waitress approached her, took her name and informed her that Paul was running a few minutes late, but the table had been prepared for them.

As she walked towards their table, she suddenly felt ice in her veins. The ground appeared to open up beneath her, and she was vaguely aware of concerned voices around her as she dropped to the floor, frozen in terror.

On the table, was a glass of Merlot, and a single red rose.