Chapter 79


    I slide down and do something I have done since I was old enough to bathe myself. I keep going until I


    fully submerge under the water, hold my breath, close my eyes and blot everything of the world away to


    hear only the high-pressure thrum of being underwater.


    Published by N?v''elD/rama.Org.


    I can ignore my knees getting cold as they stick out to amodate myid down position as the


    respite from the world is always worth it. Even in an ufortable half sized tub that scrapes my bum


    with its cracked enamel.


    I taught myself to hold my breath for up to two minutes as a child, even though I have never learned to


    swim. I used to count the seconds out and make myself do it for longer and longer. It was my escape,


    my secret underworld which cleansed my soul of all the sins put upon me while hiding me from the


    reality of my life. I used to wonder if it would be as peaceful to drown and finally be free of all that


    tormented me.


    I can manage half that time now, seeing as I no longer do it ritually or often enough anymore. Only


    when I feel highly stressed and need escapism.


    I relent after a minute and push myself up, wiping the water away as I inhale the cold musty air, and


    come back to focus on what is real. The disgusting grimy surroundings. I have to just ept this is my


    life now.


    Tomorrow is another gruelling long shift, another monotonous Thursday when we stay opente.


    Fridays are no better as I work six days a week and have no respite until Monday, my one day off. I


    work weekends, not that I have a life to have other ns that require the odd break to use in my own


    time. I am carrying on that age-old tradition of no friends, no one getting close and therefore … no need


    for weekends.


    I also feel wretched. This damn cold has been building for a few days and it’s wiping me out. My eyes


    are puffy; I’m constantly sniffing, feeling thirsty and have an itchy sore throat. These past months I just


    keep catching one thing after another as though I never fully recover before I am floored again. I seem


    to be sick all the time.


    I know it’s because my immune system is shot, and I am hardly living in healthy surroundings; it all


    adds up to just being constantly under the weather. Just anotheryer to drag me down and make me


    feel like maybe it’s time I upped and left and found somewhere better to step up to.


    This ce is a prison that I have chosen to dwell inside of and I no longer know why anymore. Why I


    am doing this to myself when I have a few grand under the floor to just start somece else.


    I sit up in panic as a coughing fit hits me suddenly and almost drown myself in the process as I slide


    about helplessly, grabbing for a towel and wiping my face free of water. It wracks through me, burning


    my lungs painfully, and I end up with a runny nose and watery eyes cursing myself that I don’t even get


    to enjoy a soak in the tub anymore. Not that this tub is worthy. It’s well matched to my shithole


    surroundings. Tiny, chipped and ky and has temperamental water flow when I manage to get it to


    work at all. Water that even on a good day, is always a weird shade of yellow or brown.


    I get out quickly and clumsily, feeling frustrated and just not in the frame of mind to wrestle with my own


    patience and stay in the bath. Not even spending time washing myself or my hair, but the mood is gone


    and I dry myself fast.


    This ce is too cold and dusty to walk around naked, so I throw on the pyjamas I keep hanging in


    here, only ce to use as a wardrobe seeing as the one in my room has rat shit and roaches inside it,


    crawling about and making my skin crawl. My clothes are kept in bags on the couch for more than just


    my need to leave, it’s also for fear that I may get critters in them and I’ve been bitten by many strange


    bugs here already.


    I really need to up my living conditions.


    I really need to sort my shit out.


    I grab a handful of toilet paper as I walk to bed, knowing I’m going to need it if my nose keeps running,


    and climb into it. Not that it’s much of a weing ce with a hard mattress and rough bedding that I


    got on sale in a hurry when I moved here.


    I am ready to just nk out the world and read a book. It’s not like I use my couch nor have anything to


    do when I get home from work. I spend my time here on this bed just sleeping my life away, or reading.


    I don’t even own a TV or anything which makes a noise and might attract people to investigate the new


    tenant’s belongings. Nothing offort that would just waste my money either and I only have books


    because people leave them in the diner constantly. Joe throws them out if I don’t take them home.


    This one’s a western with a pretty sexy man on the cover, not my cup of tea, but better than staring


    outside my dirty windows until sunset and wishing myself to sleep.


    It’s my only source of escape – reading a book.


    I’m not hungry either. I eat at work before I leave and that does me till breakfast most days, so that


    means hitting a gym or doing any sort of workouts isn’t needed as I am not eating enough to really gain


    weight. I know I am not taking care of myself in the way I should. I know maybe I am depressed in


    some way because of the turnout of events and I should kick my own arse. I just cannot muster that fire


    for anything.


    I down the bottle of cough medicine I picked up before heading home in a bid to shift this bug, knowing


    it’s dumb but I want it to knock me out for the night. It should work like a sedative, and maybe I won’t


    wake tonight with nightmares and terrors if my body is drugged into nothingness.


    They havee back with a vengeance since leaving Club Carrero, and now there are more sinister


    men scaring me shitless in my dreams than ever before.


    I wake up with my book over my face haphazardly, where it’s obviously fallen when I drifted off, jumping


    in rm at god knows what and blinking in the darkness of my room as I open my eyes to pitch ck.


    My heart’s pounding crazily and the sweats hit me fast as Ie to, in disorientation. Groggy from the


    effects of the meds I took hours ago as I slide it off and try to get my bearings.


    I am unsure why I woke, as I was not even dreaming, and I feelpletely odd in a sort of


    disconnected almost drunk way; which I presume is cough med rted rather than sickness. Pushing it


    on to my bedside table as I feel around with shaking hands. I roll to my side to try and drift back off, but


    a little noise in the next room pricks up my attention. Like a tiny warning bell sending me into immediate


    high alert, it brings me to my senses in a breath pausing way.


    I pause, holding painfully still and listen, not moving. Heartbeat rising as I try to focus on what I thought


    I just heard and strain so very hard to listen over the sound of my shallow breathing and erratic


    pounding rhythm as fear takes a low grip of my insides.


    I hear something. Closing my eyes to cut off my attempts to focus on sights I cannot see and just listen


    very hard. So much so I can hear the blood rushing inside my head as adrenaline courses through my


    body. I know I am not imagining things; I am sensitive to things like this, ever since I came out to live


    alone again. I catch it again, so very faint, almost surreal but definitely in my apartment.


    A scrape, as though something is being shifted or moved around on my threadbare floor through the


    door, and I sit up to strain towards it as stealthily as I can muster. My bedroom door is closed, which it


    makes it hard to hear anything at all but it’s unmistakable as ites a little clearer and closer. I push


    my bedclothes back and sit very still, poised in a sitting position;pletely petrified with a million


    things racing through my mind that I try to silence and just pull myself together.


    Footsteps!


    They sound as though they are trying to be light on their feet, but every time they venture nearer my


    room, the floorboards make a dull aching thud underfoot, where they are loose and I know for sure;


    There are people inside my space!


    No one knows who I am here!


    I slide out of bed as quickly and silently as I can as trembles take hold in the cold air. Holding my


    breath, nerves on an all-time high as I vibrate inside, I try to hold my shit in while simultaneously


    waking myself fully.


    Someone is in my apartment and I have no clue if this is a random robbery or something worse


    completely. The woman on the third floor was raped by an intruderst month, he took nothing of value


    and the attack seemed to be purely sexual. I am not about to go down without a fight if that is what this


    is. I am not some mere girl who will take being raped again so easily.


    I may not be a stranger to it, but it’s still something I never want to experience again.


    I keep a baseball bat under my bed and I reach for it quietly, crouching down as low as I can to slide it


    out slowly without making a single sound. My entire body is internally shaking yet my hands seem still


    as I grasp it tightly; knowing full well that I am my only saviour in this.


    There’s a creak outside my door and I pause, heart hammering through my chest, body turning cold


    with tingles and mmy with fear. I have been in situations like this before and I know I need to keep


    my wits about me until I get out the other side. Women are murdered every day in this city, and I am no


    one special that will ever be missed.


    I have no hero to intervene this time and for the first time, I wish Alexi was here, a pining so strong it


    almost rips my chest in two. I push him out of my head, hating that in moments of weakness I still need


    him, and grit my teeth in an effort to focus.


    I move towards it and tten my back against the wall beside the scraped wooden surface, as much as


    I can without disturbance or noise, ready to fight should theye in here, and praying they don’t. I’m


    ready to take someone’s head off, to get through this.


    I close my eyes tight and open them fast to make them adjust to the dark faster, twice more until I can


    see shapes of furniture and outlines and can navigate a little more effectively. A trick I discovered as a


    child when I was trying to make the shadows turn into what they really were and not the monsters I


    imagined. Things begin to take shape as my night vision kicks in excruciatingly slowly and I can make


    out my room.


    I start visibly shaking with the passing time, even though it’s only been seconds, terrified but poised,


    and waiting for the worst.


    There’s a thud and a scrape, and I can hear mumbling as though there’s more than one voice just on


    the other side of our separator, and I know it’s only a matter of time. They wille in here if they are


    looking for things to steal, as there is not much out there to take. What they will find is me, and I don’t


    know what that oue will entail.


    I strain to listen again but jump when my door is clicked open slowly. Whoever turns the handle does so


    with such slight and careful movement it tells me they know someone is in here and it’s no deterrent.


    Shit, shit, shit!


    A huge figure in dark, looming taller and wider than me, slides inside the room quickly, looking towards


    my bed apprehensively and softly edges in with the grace of a cat. It’s clear they are unable to see if


    someone is in the bed in the darkness in here.


    I see my chance.


    It’s male for sure and the all ck outfit, rubber gloves and Halloween mask tell me that this is no warm


    and friendly night-time visit. This is a nned break-in.


    Aiming hard and high, putting all I have in me behind my very practised swing, I smack that fucker right


    in the face with a bone breaking crunch and knock him out cold to the world with a lucky whack. The


    reverberation as my bat collides and vibrates through the wood and then me, is followed by a satisfied


    crumpling and thudding of a human body copsing on impact. I probably broke his face severely and


    hisck of reaction is a sure sign I did a great job of disabling him and I literally exhale in relief.


    Internally my heart is pounding with a mix of fear and adrenaline, rushing of blood as I take a huge


    deep breath and gather my wits and what I need to do. There may be a second one out there who


    surely had to have heard this. I need to get to him first or by him before he sees me.


    Jumping over my silent victim on the floor in a sh, panic-stricken in my pyjamas still, I high tail it


    towards the front door, which is sitting wide open, eyes on my escape.


    I don’t see iting at all, stupidly focused on safety and not my dark surroundings. The elbow to the


    face that gets me square in the middle of my nose, until my head bangs the floor viciously and it’s the


    last thing I remember.