Awake

Chapter 2

I heard him before I saw him. The slam of the door shutting sent shockwaves through the entire house. I made my way downstairs. Dripping from head to toe, Jerome folded his umbrella and hooked it onto a peg. It was off with his coat and straight for the kitchen. "Hey hun! It's raining cats and dogs out there! Fancy making Jerome a cuppa tea to warm him up?" I chuckled and nodded, making my way to the kettle. His dark eyes watched me intently.

Eyes piercing through me as I did so, I switched on the kettle. "How was your day?" I pretended to be interested. "Usual, you were there for some," he laughed. An innocent laugh. I smiled inwardly. I turned round to see Jerome unbuttoning his navy blue police shirt. Each button revealing a new section of pure toned body. "Stop admiring." She's here again. I blinked a couple times to regain my composure then turned back around to finish my chore. I made the tea and handed it to the now half nude Jerome who's wet uniform now hung from the radiator. He smiled at me casually and took a few sips. Once again he questioned. "You okay?" I rolled my eyes inwardly, "Like you care," I said to myself. I shrugged and turned to leave.

A firm grip grabbed my hand. "You can talk to me you know? I'm not just a policeman, I care about you and I must look after you. I promised her," His eyes clouded, looking deeply into mine searching for some kind of emotion. He found none. He looked puzzled for a moment but that did not stop him from pulling me into a tight hug. Ah the scent of aftershave. I stopped. Before she started. A wave of panic swept over me. I pulled away and ran to my room. He didn't try to stop me.

I lay on my bed, dry mouth inhaling short breaths of air and sweaty hands clinging to my duvet. I cast my mind back to the kitchen. What was he doing now? Was I his next victim? But his muscles... The way he hugged me. He's a murderer. That sweet smelling aftershave though... My hands and feet felt cold. I wrapped the duvet around myself and tried to push away the thoughts of dread and sleep.

One in the morning. I awoke. Gasping for breath. I felt my forehead, hot and wet. My whole body sweating yet I felt cold inside. I needed a hot drink. Groping for the light switch I finally found it and turned it on. A blaze of false light attacked my eyes, causing temporary dizziness. I sat back down into my bed to regain my self control then headed to the kitchen.

A noise. A noise of glass against a surface. So instead of pushing people of a cliff he stabs now? With glass? How classy. I panicked and looked through the darkness to where I thought the staircase was. I daren't switch on the light and give my opponent the advantage of seeing me. A shadow. A shadow of a man sitting down at the table, glass in his hands. I was right. He was sitting there waiting for me to approach. I was about to turn and run for my life when I heard footsteps. I screamed and ran for the staircase. The lights switched on and Jerome stood there puzzled.

I froze. "What's the matter?" He asked. I remained frozen. My eyes cast to the table where a glass knife should have been but instead was a glass filled with milk. Panic rose. Was it in his pocket? Did he want to leer me into his trap then lash out? I was short of breath again. I knew I should have taken the pills but what use are drugs to me. I need to be awake and in full function when living with a murderer. I need to stay awake.

Jerome still stood there looking at me puzzled. He began to speak, "What's the matter? Is there something frightening you? You can tell me. I'm here for you." With every word he said he took a step closer, trying to comfort me but my face stayed deeply horrified. He had the glass knife in his pocket. I knew.

"Get away!" I screamed. I legged it up the stairs. "Stay calm, you need to stay calm," Jerome ordered in a very serene tone. He bounded up the stairs. I screamed even louder and began throwing furniture at him from my room. Lampshades, books, hairbrushes, shoes all flew towards Jerome. He backed away, scared from the look of pure terror on my eyes. He backed away. I slammed the door shut and hurriedly turned the lock. I leaned back against it's hard frame and broke out into uncontrollable sobs. I sunk to the floor and buried my head in my hands. Hours passed by.

****

I found myself looking up into the mirror positioned at the far end on my room. I observed a young woman, no older than twenty with horror stricken sad eyes that glistened from hours of bathing in salty tears. Mascara ran down her pale cheeks, locks of dark hair sticking to the wet surface. She was young and beautiful but pain and illness had turned her into a wreck of a child.

After acquiring enough energy to get up, I made my way to the dressing table, cautiously watching where I tread as to not step on any furniture that had not yet been broken from the events of last night. Picking up a hair band, I tied my hair back into a ponytail and made my way to the wardrobe where I would find something clean to wear. Skinny jeans and a tight yellow vest top was my choice of outfit. Next I headed for the bathroom to make something of my smudged mascara face and puffy eyes.

After my trip to the bathroom I found myself in front of the mirror. Only this time I was not scroitonising my flaws but changing my them. I opened up my bag of cosmetics and set to work.

I was ready.

Making my way down the stairs I found my self surprisingly calm. I stepped into the kitchen and set to work in preparing waffles with whipped cream and berries. He walked in, towel wrapped around his waist. He stopped as soon as he saw him. I suddenly had the uncontrollable eardge to slap him. He began to walk again. Coming closer. "Hey," he greeted me casually. He was very close now. The panic and range started boiling. SLAP! My hand connected with his face. I froze. What had I just done? Jerome was a friend, he was family! I looked down at my hand. It had done this. It's always my hands! I began to cry helplessly again. He opened his arms. I fell into them, in despair, hopeless, helpless. "Is okay, it's not your fault," he tried to sugar coat the fact that I was ill. Ill inside. He hugged me closer, I sobbed on his bare chest, hugging him back. I have never done that before. It's different now though, I need someone to hold me and tell me everything's going to be okay. I looked up into his sad eyes. He looked deep into my eyes and stroked the side of my cheek. He bent down and planted a soft kiss on my lips. A pang of sadness broke out on his face.

She cried out with rage inside my mind. We were both hit with a sudden realisation. I stepped back. He rewrapped his towel tightly around his waist and ran his fingers through his hair nervously. I pushed back a lock of fallen hair and guiltily bit my lip. "I -" we both tried to make sense of what just happened. We chuckled nervously, "Sorry," was all I could think of. He nodded and headed back the way he had just come. I regained my composure until he left, collapsing into a nearby chair, head in my hands. I couldn't, just couldn't. He's a murderer. And, her! The way she cried out in pain when we kissed, like that time when I -. There would be a harsh punishment.