After You... (1st Draft)

Chapter 4 - Blame Me

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                                          Chapter Four – Blame Me

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The cool chill that ran up my partially bare legs had me pulling my jacket tighter around me to keep my upper body from the draft as I padded through the corridor for the stairs. Clearly my slippers weren't made for outside the flat and I could feel every part of the hardness to the ground beneath them. I didn't cast too much thought to what I was wearing; I just needed my jacket as cover.

Mrs Pratten's camo cat of door 32 was currently wandering the corridor. Poor Mademoiselle PussPuss was a bit of a chubster. Cute, but damn she was well-insulated, and it was without doubt the result of considerable over-loving from her ever devoted owner.

I often wondered how she managed to get through the cat flap without the need to call the fire brigade for getting wedged into position by the sheer size of her gut. And just how the hell did she manage to muster up enough energy to get out of the front door at all? Mrs Pratten doted over her and often showered her to the point she was incredibly spoiled. She really was the perfect example of the cat that pulls all the strings and the owner simply being the puppet. Sometimes, when I saw her carrying herself as if there was a bad smell stubbornly resting under her nostrils, she looked as if she was planning on taking over the world with her owner as sidekick. I always thought of her as The Brain, with Mrs Pratten as Pinky.

Mademoiselle PussPuss was happy to stare me down right now with her startling alien eyes as I stepped passed her. She was always staring me down, but her stance made a change from being perched like the queen of Sheba in front of my door on the dense doormat every time I attempted to get out of my flat without accidently stepping on her. I tripped over her once though. That was a nasty fall and I'd grazed the shit out of myself. Not that she cared.

I cast a quick look at her and stopped. She stopped too, mid-motion like music had been abruptly cut off on an old game of musical chairs. Standing there, hands holding tight to my jacket, I bent forward a little, addressing her, "You wouldn't happen to want to come down and scratch my ex's eyes out for me, would you?"

Mademoiselle PussPuss had very little to say. As usual. Just quickly jerked her head and back at me again.

"No?" a rueful confirmation of her actions came from me. "No chance, huh?"

It was then she gracefully lifted her curled tail and with the only skinny parts of her, slinked nimbly away on her slender legs as she snaked passed me. Damn, strong girl. Those little legs were working hard.

I sighed. "Suit yourself."

I pulled my jacket tighter as I descended the stairs, wiping away messy strands from my face as I put my hand back into my pocket holding tight to myself again. I was all sorts of things right now. My racing heart told me I was anxious, scared possibly. My strained face displaying my slight emotional torment, the heat of my face burning me with emerging anger.

I already knew why I was going downstairs; I needed to stop him from coming upstairs, which I knew would lead to a confrontation with Kibbie. I could well do without it. Not only that, but to be honest, I didn't want him here. I thought now was the time to correct my mistake of lunchtime and tell him to stay away. I needed him gone.

He'd only been in my flat once or twice because he wasn't comfortable around a very difficult Kibbie, I would always stay at his. My flat was the one place I could go without associating any memories of him because he'd never tainted it.

Sure, he'd driven me back to mine on many occasions. Walked me up the stairs, lingered by my door as he deliberately stalled me as if keeping me there for as long as possible not wanting me to leave him. And when I'd tried to key in the door, he'd halted me, spun me around and pulled me to him, nuzzling my nose just before he'd pressed his lips lightly to mine to kiss me before I could get indoors. He'd tell me he would wait until the very last moment just so he could take the opportunity to savour the very last seconds before I disappeared into my flat and left him standing there. But he'd never really been a staple here. Just once when I was ill, he'd turn up out of the blue to comfort me.