Escape

Chapter Five

 He stumbles through the bedroom door, and I can already smell the liquor permeating through his entire body. It's almost like he forgets I'm there for just a moment as he stumbles around the room, until he looks up and his eyes meet mine. They're dark, almost black. Void of feeling. "Don't you fucking judge me." He growls. I don't say anything, I've learned from past mistakes that it's better to stay silent than to speak. I lay in the bed and tighten my eyes. "Huh?" his voice raises. "You think you're better than me?!" He yells as he stands up straight. I'm frozen. I couldn't speak even if I wanted to. "You're nothing without me! You understand that?! You don't have shit without me! You leave me, and what will you have? Huh?!" He's getting louder and louder. He pauses a moment and I open my eyes. He's looking around. I watch him spot a glass filled with water that I left on the TV stand. He grabs the glass and hurls it in my direction. I watch the glass get closer to my face, as if it's in slow motion. I hear a bang, and everything goes dark.

I wake up with a gasp, soaked in my own sweat. Another nightmare. My heart is racing, I look around in the dark room around me, reminding me that right now, I'm safe. Everything seems so quiet and so still, in contrast of my nightmare. I grab my phone and squint as I read the time on the bright phone screen: 3:35 am. I turn my screen off and lay back on a different pillow as I push my sweaty one to the other side of the bed. When will these stop? Am I cursed to a life of rage-filled dreams? As if I hadn't suffered enough.

After a few restless minutes, I crawl out of bed and head downstairs to get myself a glass of water. As I stand at the sink filling the glass I am reminded of my nightmare. I get a twist in my stomach. I shake my head as the nightmare tries to replay itself. I take a couple sips of water and leave the empty glass in the sink as I head back upstairs. I lie back down on the bed and stare at the ceiling, begging sleep to come.

The next time I open my eyes, there's daylight. I can tell the sleep that finally came was restless by my dry eyes and aching head, but it was sleep, nonetheless. I walk into the bathroom and look at the bags forming under my eyes. I can't tell if they are from the repeated sleepless nights or the busy shift I worked yesterday. I'm thankful for finding a decent job with nice people but working in food service is no joke.

I jump in the shower and stay until the water goes cold, which took longer than normal, for which I am very appreciative. I step out and begin to dry my hair. I pull it back into a low bun and skip the make up for the day. My bangs hang around my face as I secure my bun with gold hair pins. I pull on my favorite black jeans and a white V-neck t-shirt. It's supposed to be a little warmer today and today is my day off. I head downstairs and start the coffee maker. Due to my exhaustion and a serious need for sleep, I skipped my run this morning. As the coffee brews, I throw some toast in the toaster and pull the blueberry jelly out of the fridge.

I sit down on the couch with my coffee and jellied toast and look outside. The day looks incredible. There's plenty of sunlight, very little wind, and no rain, which isn't typical Hampstead weather this time of year, I think. We are finally in the thick of Spring with more warm days than cold ones. I open the book from the bookstore and begin to read it as I finish my coffee. It was a story of an old woman who has dementia, and her husband reads her the story of how they fell in love. Eventually she remembers who he is, and they dance and cry. Until, soon after, she forgets who he is again.

As I finish the last page of the book I am crying into my coffee. I mean, who wouldn't. I gather myself up, grateful that I chose to pass on make up today, and put my dishes in the sink. I don't have the luxury of a dishwasher in this small apartment. I throw on a light jean jacket and my pair of dingy black converses. I grab my bag and head out the door with the book in hand.

I feel nervous as I approach the bookstore. It was just last night when Samuel had walked me home. But he was just being nice, right?

The door chimes as I walk in. I scan the bookstore and see nobody. I place the book down in the pile on parchment covered books and read through a couple different descriptions from the basket. After reading the third science-fiction description in a row, I hear someone come from the back of the store. I look up and see that dark mop of hair walk towards me.

"Payton! How are you?" Samuel asks lightly with a smile ear to ear.

"Um, I'm doing fine. Got back to the bar okay?" I ask.

"Well, I'm alive aren't I?" He laughs and he displays his arms over his body. His white shirt reads "Ramones" in faded red lettering and his black jeans have holes down their entire length.

I laugh, "Yeah, of course." I look back down to the pile of books and try to shuffle through some other books. I hear that familiar sound of his clunking boots get closer and I look up. Samuel is bringing me a book.

"Here, I think this should be your next read." He says as he stretches his arm out to me.

"The Great Gatsby?" I read as I take the book from his hand.

"Have you ever read it? I mean, you probably have." He asks me, shoving his hands in his pockets. Of course, I've read it.

"No." I lie. I'd like to keep things short and sweet today.

"Oh, well, it's my favorite book and I think you'd really like it." I take the book in my hand and scan the cover.

"Oh, thank you." I place the book on the counter and begin to shuffle for my wallet. It didn't come from the basket, so I would like to pay for it.

While running his fingers through his hair he says, "Just bring it back when you're done." He smiles and winks. As he backs up his hair falls over his forehead and covers just the tops of his dark eyes. I smile and thank him again as I turn to leave.

I stop at the grocery store to grab food for tonight and restock on some essentials. I was up too late for the farmer's market. I'm not much of a cook so I keep it simple, noodles with red sauce. I walk through the aisles and grab a few more necessities before paying at the register and walking back to my apartment.

I walk through the door, heavy grocery bags in each hand. I drop the bags on the kitchen counter and wince as I look at the red marks across my fingers. I begin to put the groceries away and look outside. I don't do much on my day off. I don't know anyone here; well, I don't really know anyone. My first week here, all I did was walk the neighborhood, over and over again. I did, and still do, find it absolutely amazing here. It's simple yet grand. Old yet new. But the routine gets a bit old.

I walk over to the couch and look at the book. Why does he want me to read his favorite book? He's probably just being nice and is interested in helping a fellow book nerd. I grab it and study the dust jacket. It's very worn, very old. Clearly a popular book or a book that has been sitting in that small bookstore for a long time. I assume the latter. I remove my shoes and curl up on the couch. The sunshine gleaming into the window is the perfect reading light. I toss a blanket over myself, tuck my knees up, and begin to read. I've read the book before, but it's been such a long time. And he isright, it's a great book.