Page 2 of Hiding for the Holidays
I walk down the hall to my room. It’s nice not having to climb the stairs, but being on the first floor felt dangerous.
Unlocking my bedroom door, I step inside, bolt the door and shove my desk chair under the handle for good measure. Kicking off my shoes, I place them beside the door.
Luckily, at this time of the day, the building was pretty quiet, so I might actually be able to get some sleep for a change.
A door slams shut somewhere in the building, causing me to jump, my eyes going wide in alarm. A minute later, a toilet flushes, and I relax. Nobody breaks in to use the washroom.
I shrug my jacket off and realize I’m still holding the flyer from the front door. It’s advertising Iron Oaks, a local gym.
I snort at the terrible flyer. There is no clear call to action,and I’m not even sure who they’re trying to target. There’s a stock photo of a weight bench with some free weights and several starbursts highlight different offerings. It might be my marketing diploma speaking, but the whole thing was a mess. They didn’t even have a logo or website.
I place it on my bed and read it while slipping off my jeans and sweater as I shake my head at all the captions fighting for dominance on this cluttered flyer.
“Treadmills available, classes available, learn to fight, open most days, weights and dumbbells, self-defense classes.”
The last one has me pausing as I pick it up and read the fine print.
“Self-defense classes. First one’s free.”
The flyer is pretty bad, but a free self-defense class might be a good idea. I’m sure I couldn’t learn much in one class, but it might be worth a shot.
I don’t have a cell phone, as I couldn’t afford one and ditched my old one, so I‘d have to ask someone to look up the address for me.
Realizing I forgot to brush my teeth, I groan, pulling my jeans back on and throwing on the one t-shirt I have to sleep in. I move the chair from under the door, grab my small toiletries bag, and dash to the bathroom.
After getting ready for bed, I head back to my room, securing the chair under the door handle again. I slip off my jeans and bra, climb under my threadbare comforter and close my eyes.
I wish I could replace this secondhand comforter that Perry gave me. He lives across the hall and saw Janet giving me the key. He asked if I needed help with my stuff, and upon finding out I had nothing, he offered me his old bedding that he was about to throwout.
I could see why he was getting rid of it. It’s full of holes, lumpy in some spots and almost transparent in others. But it was far better than sleeping on a bare, dirty mattress, so I was grateful for his kindness. It really said something about how far I’d fallen that I was taking leftover blankets from a meth-head.
If I could figure out a way to get a little more money, I could replace this comforter with a nicer one.
A soft banging comes through the wall, elevating my anxiety again. I pull the comforter over my head, grateful nobody can see my childish response to fear, as I try to steady my breathing.
After a couple of minutes, I finally clue in to what it is. It’s the sound of someone having sex. They must have woken up for an early-morning romp in the hay. I pull the blanket down and roll my eyes at my stupidity.
I try to sleep, but the banging and moaning keeps me awake for almost an hour.
“They can’t be having sex this whole time… can they?” I stare up at my ceiling with wide eyes. I’d had good sex before. But I don’t recall any encounters lasting longer than twenty minutes from start to finish.
“What are they doing?” I ask myself in confusion.
Finally, the sounds stop, and I turn on to my side and close my eyes. It’s six in the morning now, and I really just want to get a few hours of sleep before it gets noisy. But I’m not holding out hope, as the people who live in this building are anything but predictable. Some were up early, some up late. There was always noise, whether it was from people having very loud sex, an argument in the hall, or a TV turned up excessively loud. It was never quiet here.
I sleep fitfully, my dreams filled with memories I’d sooner forget. When I finally wake, it’sto loud music and someone yelling right outside my door. Glancing at my clock, I see it’s ten am. I doubt I’ll be getting any more sleep today.
I groan, wondering how long I can keep living like this. Scared, alone and hiding from a man who, when he catches up to me, might just kill me.
Chapter 2
Rosalie
Sitting on the park bench across from the café, I watch, begrudgingly, as the patrons leave with their iced frappes, caramel macchiatos and peppermint lattes.
Of course, I had no idea what they were actually ordering, but I liked to guess. It’d been a few weeks since I’d been able to enjoy one myself. When I worked at the marketing firm, it was a little treat to myself, getting one at the coffee shop next door to the office every morning.
Now I need to save every penny I have and can’t afford luxuries like coffee. I look down at my sad excuse for a lunch, well brunch technically since I didn’t eat breakfast. From the supermarket I bought a loaf of bread, and a pack of sliced ham. I really wanted to buy some mayo to go with it, but at five dollars a bottle, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
