8:02

As she slammed the door of the sedan shut, she looked askance at the house which she believed hadn't looked this desolate in decades. Raindrops pattered on top of the car. Getting behind the wheel, she turned the ignition key. The car quietly whirred into action, and with it, the local FM station. She stared at the wheel, or something beyond it she alone was capable of discerning. A couple of pensive minutes passed.

"There's a lady who's sure, all that glitters is gold...."

She stepped on the accelerator. Memories came flooding, taking her back to that night. She'd liked him at once. He had all the right moves, and behaviour equivalent to an 18th century Englishman - courteous and admirable. What began as a platonic relationship tumbled across the borderline towards sensuality in a matter of weeks and before she knew it, they were poring over The Big Book of Child Names.

“….. but she wants to be sure, ‘cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.”

When he had said “I do” the joy enveloping her had known no bounds. It had come to an abrupt end as the devil in him began to unleash. The night she realized why he had never bothered to mull over her marriage proposal delivered the first blow of several to follow. Three days after the marriage, driving at 60 miles an hour on the US 176, she looked at her bruised arm which showed traces of dried blood. Her hands bloody, her wrists were still shrouded by a shred of bandage which she had carelessly ripped off with what remained of that broken champagne bottle - one of the many paraphernalia that had been flung at her.

“Yes there are two paths you can go by, but in the long run, there’s still time to change the road you’re on.”

She paused for a moment and considered, it seemed to make sense to her chaotic mind. Wearing a wry smile, she stepped on the gas. These guys were geniuses. It was a pity this was going to be the last time she listened to the song. And she knew it.

“Dear Lady can you hear the wind blow, and did you know, your stairway lies on the whispering wind.”

Nervous excitement. Joy. Exhilaration. Vigour. Power surging through the limbs. A thousand moments of glory fluttering in the head. These last few minutes of her life were going to be her best. The speedometer showed 180 miles an hour.

Three minutes later, in the town of Spartanburg, South Carolina, a ramshackle sedan lay smashed against the façade of a multi-storeyed building leaving the onlookers stunned in silence, while the player continued to hum in the background.

“...and she’s buying the stairway to heaven.”