Alice’s heart raced as the room swirled. She was drunk; more than drunk, she was “utterly gazeboed”. She tried to stifle the snorted giggle with limited success.
“I didn’t realize you were ticklish,” came the breathy response in her ear. Robin? Kevin? Man providing gin? His name continued to elude her. His hands didn’t though. Alice’s rear pressed heavily against the centre island in her modest kitchen as they pawed at her skin. His thigh wedged between hers, pinning her in place with ease as he planted wet kisses up her neck.
“I think we should…” she stammered, losing momentum. It was so hard forming words! She planted a palm on his plaid shirt, urging him to stop… or at least slow down until her brain caught up. He pulled back a little, hands now resting on her hips, his fingers coarsely caressing the delicate curves beneath her underwear.
“I think we…” she attempted a second time, but it was difficult choosing which set of eyes to focus on. She blinked heavily, trying to regain control. Man-providing-gin seemed to finally understand. He raised a hand to her cheek, caressing her jawline. The gesture didn’t stop the world from swirling, but at least there was only one of him in the room with her now.
“I think we should take this upstairs,” she finally managed to say, attempting (and missing) a coy smile.
Man-providing-gin grinned, his eyes full of hunger and lust as he led her towards the stairs. With equal support from the banister and his strong arms, Alice finally managed to reach the top of that carpeted climb. Her bedroom door lay open at the end of the hall, sheathed in protective darkness. She rocked back unsteadily against the doorway of the bathroom behind her as she reached for the cord to turn on the light, blindly grasping for leverage and unintentionally pulling in her companion. He embraced her tightly, lips seeking contact with hers, but she pulled her face awkwardly away to the side. Her stomach rolled unpleasantly, and she panted a little more heavily. Heat on the back of her neck suddenly running cold as she fought against the urge to vomit. Man-providing-gin didn’t seem to notice or perhaps it was simply that he was beyond caring, his wants replaced by animalistic needs.
“Just let me freshen up first,” Alice insisted, her voice husky and hushed. Another wave of nausea hit, and she forced a smile, “You go make yourself… comfortable.”
Man-providing-gin… No… Austin. His name was Austin. Austin pulled away, pouting, before eyeing up Alice seductively. “Don’t take too long,” he chided gently before turning and walking towards the bedroom. Alice closed the door gently, before the darkness of the bedroom swallowed him whole and remained standing behind the door, listening. Her breathing was heavy, deafening as she strained her ears waiting for the inevitable.
A heavy thud sounded from the room beyond, the weighty impact of a body hitting the floor, or perhaps into a wall. The noise made Alice jump bodily like a jolt of electricity sent straight up her spine. She clasped both hands to her mouth, terrified that she might make a sound. Her breathing was more ragged now, adrenaline coursing through her body, demanding that she take in more oxygen. Her fight or flight response was in full motion, and she fought to silence the voice in her head screaming for her to run, howling that she should throw open the door and flee into the night, away from this place. Away from it.
Seconds passed that felt like hours.
More noise from across the hallway reverberated through the door. Muffled gasps and thumps that seemed too loud in the silence threatened to overwhelm Alice’s senses. She could feel the prickle of tears forming, anger and fear refusing to stay bottled up.
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Glass smashed outside the door.
She squeaked, creeping back towards the wall behind her. It could only have been the picture frame on the wall, halfway between the bedroom and where she stood, trapped. Her back made contact with the white tiled wall behind her, startling another peep from beneath her clasped hands. She sank to the floor, wedged between the peace lily in its white ceramic pot and the chrome towel rack, unmindful of either as she fixed her eyes upon the tiny sliver beneath the door. Her jaw was beginning to ache from clamping her teeth for so long, but she steadfastly refused to relax. She stubbornly blinked to clear her vision, but the tears that streamed down her cheeks were quickly replaced. No shadows danced in her line of sight in those scant millimetres below the door.
More listening. More waiting. The only sound to be heard was Alice’s ragged, shaky breathing. She would not have been surprised to see dawn’s first glimmer of light creeping through the high window. Her joints began to ache, complaining about the lack of movement, muscles straining without release.
A new sound trickled through the door. Insidiously quiet, it could have easily been missed had Alice not been waiting for it; the softness of something being dragged across the carpet and the delicate click of the catch when the bedroom door shut fully.
With the ordeal over, Alice slumped over onto her side, sobbing. Despair and self-loathing wracked her as deeply as the terror had. She let the tears flow unimpeded, soft wails mewling unheard in the night.
She stayed that way for at least an hour, letting her grief run its course. She could not remain there however, there was work to be done. She hauled herself unsteadily to her feet. The night’s events had temporarily given her the illusion of sobriety, but her liver had not yet finished toiling. At the small mirror above the sink, she observed her countenance with disgust. Hair that normally fell as golden curls was plastered wetly to red, puffy cheeks. Her blue eyes were also flushed red, angry and stinging whilst what remained of her make-up was smeared messily. She ran the taps, filling the sink with warm water, and forced herself to breathe deeply and slowly. She took great care removing the last of her make-up and brushing back her hair. She could do nothing about the redness of her eyes and face but after a while, she looked considerably better. ‘Like I have a bit of hay fever,’ she mentally observed, knowing the words were a lie even as she thought them.
She quickly stripped out of her evening dress and pulled on the soft pajamas that she had previously placed in the bathroom, removing the last traces of evidence that she had been out and brought anyone home. It took a few more moments before she could summon up the courage to open the door and peer outside but when she did, she found the hallway to be empty and clear of glass. The bedroom door also remained shut.
Alice assumed that she would find the family photo on her nightstand in the morning. A similar incident had occurred previously and although the frame was never found, the photographs always seemed to be rescued with great care.
Alice stepped outside and began to descend the stairs on shaky legs. Again, she was thankful for the support of the thick wooden banister. She remained on high alert, watching for movement, and listening for suspicious sounds but the house was still, feigning innocence. She turned her back on the kitchen and headed towards the living room which was mostly shrouded in darkness. A small amount of light from the streetlamps outside bathed a patch of grey carpet in an amber glow. She flicked the light switch hesitantly, poised to react to any hidden danger.
The room, now brightly lit, offered no surprises. A glass of water sat beside the old leather armchair that was Alice’s favourite seat in the house. Her childhood comfort blanket sat neatly folded on the seat. With great relief, and almost needily, she padded towards the chair and lifted the blanket. She held it to her face, bathing in the familiar safe scent. She plopped heavily in the chair itself, clutching the blanket to her chest, and took a deep breath to steady herself.
“The other night…” she croaked, nervously, before reaching for the glass of water supplied. The cool water was soothing on her raspy throat. Partially renewed, she began to sing again in a quavering voice. Her eyes remained tightly shut as she clutched the soft blanket. “The other night dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken so I hung my head and I cried. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You'll never know dear; how much I love you. Please don't take my sunshine away.”