Save Me From Myself

Chapter 35-Oh Nina

Nina's POV

What a horrible day to arrive in London. Everyone is crowding in the luggage claim point, pushing their way through, elbowing each other to get their bag and here I am, jumping around like an idiot because my height doesn't allow me to see my bag. Let's make one thing clear I'm not short, I have a reasonable 5'8" but when I don't wear make up and I look all messed up from the lack of sleep( go me, for partying like an animal the last two days), people seem to think I am invisible.

Great, now someone just stepped on my foot and all I could do is smile and pretend all is fine. No, all is not fine, I chose the wrong day to be wearing sandals!

I catch a place near the band where all the luggage from my flight were being loaded and I wait. Black luggage, black luggage, pink duffel bag, a purple luggage and then there is mine. My luggage seems to have had better days. It looks all squished, bruised and dirty.

I make a mental note to buy a new one from Primark as soon as I will travel again. Seems reasonable and legit. What is wrong with these people? They are crowding outside the entrance of the airport and they are screaming like mad men, I say to myself as I make my way out.

Whoever celebrity is coming today I hate them already for delaying me from my appointment with my warm bed. I am already disappointed that I will pay an arm and a leg for the taxi and that it will take me a while to get back home to my apartment.

I grab my long cardigan and I pull my handbag firmly to my body. The last thing I want is to get robbed. As I do that operation a strand of hair falls from my bun straight in my sunglasses, blocking my view. I hit by accident a couple of girls and I mumble an excuse as I put my bag in the trunk of the taxi.

"Where to missy?", asks the taxi driver, visibly bored and annoyed by the sight of screaming girls.
"Home...Creffield Road. Who are these girls waiting for?"
"Beats me...a celebrity for sure...they are surely not waiting for a commoner like me and you.", he laughed driving away.

An hour later and a hundred pounds lighter and with my feet wet from the rain I open the door to my small flat, which is covered in darkness. I leave the trolley in the hall and I throw myself on the couch. I open the TV and I light myself a cigarette. Ah, feels good to be home. Just as I say that to myself my work phone starts to ring.

"So much for the holiday...", I mumble as I answer the phone.

My job is to be a nail and make up artist. I started doing this a long time ago just for fun for my friends back home. Soon enough my friends recommended me to other friends and so on. And I did what a normal person in my condition would do. Do a course in cosmetics and run to England to get a job.

A couple of years later I opened up my own small place in Camden and I was my own boss. You know, the usual. Just as I hung up I heard the door of my neighbour slam. I thought no one lived there...or if so he or she was a mute.

Let me get things straight I love my silence. I have to listen to different stories all day long and I love my silence when I get home. So, living in a quiet place is vital for me. That's why I rarely go out and that's why I never suspected I had a neighbour. I'm not an anti social, I love being around people, but when it came to my quiet place I expected it to be quiet.

Two hours later I was asleep, cocooned in my duvet when the noise of someone talking loudly startled me. I woke up panicked, rubbing my eyes, trying to understand what was going on. The voice belonged to a man and I couldn't understand if he screamed, sung or talked. I blamed again as I put my pillow on top of my head the architect who designed the walls paper thin.

As I shuffled in the bed trying to sleep the noise grew louder in intensity, accompanied this time by a piano. I prayed to God that my bedroom wasn't near his living room because I wanted to get some sleep. My common sense was telling me that it wouldn't be a good idea to knock in his door at five in the afternoon, after all it was a decent hour to make noise and I was the one who was acting like an angry grandmother.