He'll have to break all the rules to keep her, but first she has to break just one and let him in...
It's taken four years, but Anna Fray has finally put the past behind her. Mostly. She fills her days working in a bar and her nights watching bad ro...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
My eyes peeled open, heavy and stiff as if I'd slept for a thousand years. I indulged myself in a long languid stretch, arching my back up off the sofa as my arms reached for the ceiling. I could feel my cramped muscles singing with the new freedom.
With slow stiff movements, I sat up, rolling my head to ease the crick in my neck. One day I'd learn not to fall asleep on the sofa, but until I stopped chugging bottles of wine it was unlikely to be any time soon.
I groaned as I saw the mess around me. Part of me had hoped the burglary had just been a bad dream.
My foot kicked the empty wine bottle as I pulled myself off the sofa and staggered to the kitchen. It was like navigating an assault course, avoiding the pieces of glass and discarded objects, but with some luck and agility I made it through the carnage.
My head was pounding, more than usual. I couldn't remember drinking enough to warrant a hangover, but the dull ache in my head suggested otherwise.
I filled a glass with water and threw a couple of aspirin to the back of my throat. Their bitter tang danced on my tongue before I gulped the water down. The cool refreshing liquid slipped down my throat, leaving an icy trail down the centre of my chest, before settling in my stomach.
As I looked through the kitchen doorway to the living room, I was grateful I wasn't working until later. As much as I loathed the idea, I couldn't leave the flat in the state it was. At the very least I needed to ring someone to fix the window.
I dragged my feet as I made my way towards my bedroom, the weight of the task at hand laying heavy on my shoulders. I started to strip off the clothes I'd slept in as I walked through my bedroom door. The blinds were still down from when I'd woken up yesterday morning, so the sunlight wasn't yet streaming in through the imposing bay window. Instead the whole room had a grey tinge, like someone had turned the saturation down on the world.
I fired my top in the general direction of the laundry basket. As it landed, Nightmare shot out of the basket and ran to hide under my cheap flat-pack bed.
"Nightmare?" I called. Usually she'd come out of her hiding place and brush against my legs, but not this time.
I knelt and peered under the bed. There, hidden amongst old shoes boxes and dust, was Nightmare, bundled up into a ball of black fur. Her eyes were wide with fear as she stared at me. Deep black pupils —as large as saucers— were outlined by a vivid ring of lime green.
"Smushie?" I said the term of endearment softly as I reached my hand towards her. A low growl rumbled in her throat, and she shrank away from my hand. I left it there, limp against the floor. The dusty wooden floorboards scratched against my palm. Inch by inch she crept towards me, taking short sharp sniffs as she watched me with wide wary eyes.
"What's got you all scared, my little Nightmare?" I asked as I looked at the frightened little cat before me. It had been months since I'd seen her like this. She used to scamper off as soon as I went to stroke her, but now she rarely even flinched when I used the vacuum. Looking at her now was like looking back in time. Like all the trust we'd built between us had vanished.
