My head swivels to face the handle, barely holding on as the door trembles despite the weakness of the sound.
I'm on my hands and knees now, peering beneath the door gap like a cat searching for its prey.
"It's Lucas, mate. Your neighbour 2 rooms down. I just wanted to check in on you… I heard a scream."
A scream? I might've been shaken but I never once screamed. I'm not the kind of person to make a sound. I've adapted. If I'm scared, it's better to be quiet… and wait it out.
Grabbing my kneecaps, almost pulling them down as I stand.
I open the door, just a crack. Just enough to see his face.
"I didn't scream. It… wasn't me.
Maybe try out apartment 4." I mumble.
"she has her boyfriend over tonight."
winking as I speak.
"Right… okay." He says, taking a step back.
"Strange." He looks the door top to bottom.
"I was so sure it came from here. But if it wasn't you, there's no other explanation."
He scratches his back with a nervous smile.
"Apologies,
perhaps I'm hearing things."
I roll my eyes, exhausted with even the joke of insanity.
"You and me both man…"
My focus is dying, I can feel it. I'm struggling to pretend this time.
He thinks I'm bullshitting.
I wouldn't be surprised if he says he's run out of sugar as a way to come in.
"Funny one." He laughs, interrupting my gaze as he hops to cuff his trouser, his face now brushing against mine.
"I've actually run out of sugar, I was wondering if perhaps you—"
"Come in."
Predictable.
But, and guilty to admit,
I'll grab any chance of company by the balls, even if he does just want to… snoop.
"After you." I blurt with an obviously fraudulent happy front on.
"Oh you mean I can come in?"
I pull his wrist as I whisk him inside.
"No." I say sarcastically as I gesture my arm and bow.
"Welcome to the crack den."
He drops his bag, frozen on the spot, obviously tripping over his lack of words.
"I'm joking." I say patting his shoulder.
"Right yes of course, very good."
He picks his bag back up from the floor, grabbing it slightly more tightly than before.
"But it is haunted!" I shout, shuffling away in my matted woolly socks.
I reach up for the handle of my cupboard before remembering,
"Oh shit, I don't have a handle anymore."
"Huh?
sorry?"
"Sorry nothing." I say, yanking the sugar that was stuck to the wood, drenched in old water.
"Enjoy." I hiss.
"Is that all?"
I glance to look at the wall, studying its crevices, its imperfections, before feeling a hand on mine.
I shift my gaze once more, staring at him, eye to eye, noticing his hand isn't grabbing the sugar at all. But instead, holding my hand completely.
"Uhm hey man, sugars in the… other hand?"
He stops.
"Your hands.
You're shaking aren't you?
You're scared."
My eyes widen, only now clocking the vibration emanating from my palms.
I pull my hand away, cradling it as if it were a child.
"Fuck."
Silence.
"Take the sugar and leave."
He tenses his fingers tighter around mine.
"I don't want the sugar."
I tilt my head, my brow rising.
"Is it not good enough for you then? Not high quality enough for you then?!' I yell, shoving him with my elbow.
Something's wrong.
My eyes are refusing to stay open any longer, vision threatening to blind.
"I can't breathe. Something's wrong."
I say out loud,
praying that somehow speaking will help me catch the breath I need to sprint through my door and go.
Anywhere else.
"I need to get you some sugar. I need—"
My eyelids fall as I feel my body following.
and yet… I never felt the ground.
"I've got you.
Seazon."
"Seazon?"
He's out. What on earth happened?
I mean I've heard he's… uncivil, but this is something else.
He supports my head, stroking my hair, sorting it into a makeshift bun before lifting me up and laying me down on my bed.
"Get some rest okay?"
He turns, picking his bag up once more.
Instinct.
I think it's baked into me like a long lasting vaccine.
The one thing you can never hide,
are the reflexes of the soul.
My finger twitches, hand reaching out just enough to pull back on his blazer.
"The book.
Read it." I breathe.
He gasps, such a gentle sound.
Head turning to face me but my eyes had already closed again.
He shifts his gaze only to be greeted by the book, bathing across the bedsheets.
"Book?" He questions, leaning down to pull the corner closer towards him.
5 bangs.
Loud, unworldly bangs.
Not even a flinch from me, but Lucas, like a domestic cat, jumped from his skin.
He parts his focus from the book and gathers it back to that door.
"Hello?" He whispers, as formally as one can.
A grey, beer bellied man limps in without regard and lack of spatial awareness.
"You must be the pretty boy doin' me one am I right? Funny clothes you've got on, good thing I'm takin' them off."
He snorts, licking the white foam that was forming between the corners of his mouth.
"I've got ya £20 but ya ain't havin' it till I'm satisfied, you feel me?" He bops his head, clearly intoxicated.
"What am I sayin, how can you feel me like this?!" He cackles, patting Lucas's head.
He glares.
And glares.
"Sorry… are you a friend of Seazon?"
He licks his chin, arching his back to match the height of Lucas.
"Depends.
He come cheap?"
I rub my eyes, watching this man's face turn maroon as another strike contorts inside his mouth.
He inches closer,
"Or should I say will he make me come for cheap?
am I ri—"
Maroon.
It's an even prettier colour when it's left in the perfect replica of a hand,
directly slapped onto an old perverts face.
He staggers back, head bouncing off the window.
"Get out please sir, here's £50 compensation for your troubles. Have a
nice day."
Lucas guides him gentleman back
towards the door,
making sure to slam it, hard as possible, as the footsteps venture away,
half hoping a limb might get trapped and torn off in the act.
He lets the door bang, forgetting his earlier concern for noise.
He sighs, allowing any remaining incline of hatred to pass over, taking a step back as he adjusts his shirt collar.
"What the fuck just happened." He sobs out loud, each convulsion turning into a giggle…
of sorts.