The Debt & the Doormat(8)

‘I don’t care! I have to go!’ I shout, throwing her hands off me and running for the door.

‘No! Please!’ she begs, pulling on my arm like a child.

I break free again and run towards the door, struggling with the door handle, not used to its ancient lock. She grabs my arm again, this time twisting it back in agony. She throws me face down onto the smelly carpet and climbs on top of me, locking both hands behind my back. I try to wriggle free but my head only gets pushed harder into the carpet. How can she be so strong? I knew I should have done that Body Combat class with her. I feel her tie some sort of fabric around my hands, restraining them in place.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ I yell, with a mouth full of carpet fluff.

She lifts me up and drags me towards the banister. I shake my body violently, trying to release myself as she pulls tighter on the fabric, almost cutting off circulation in my hands. After a few seconds she stands back and blows a strand of hair off her face. I try to move towards her but I’m attached. There’s no getting loose.

‘Lilly! Please don’t tell me you just tied me to the banister!’

‘Ok I won’t,’ she smiles sweetly.

‘Lilly! Let me go!’

‘Can you promise not to leave?’

‘No! I’m going straight back to work.’

‘Well then I’m sorry.’ She grabs her purple tote bag and leaves.





Chapter 4




A clicking sound pulls me out of my deep trance. I stare at the door, never in my life being so pleased to hear a key in the lock. Please say it's Izzy. Please be Izzy. But of course, it's Ryan.

I tried to get loose, I really did. I tried everything! First I tried to undo the several knots she’d created, but that bitch must have been a girl guide or something. There was no way I was getting through that. Then I tried to kick the banisters apart, which you’d think from how old they look would be an easy task, but all I got from that was a throbbing leg. My last resort was to try and chew my way out. Suffice to say, I’m still here.

I’m actually so hungry that I almost ate a bit of fluff on the stairs, sure that it was a chocolate covered raisin. I still have the taste of dirt in my mouth. If I were at work I’d have had a full lunch and about ten Jaffa cakes. Lilly and I normally celebrate Monday’s with a Cornish pasty and some chips. But instead, I’ve been trapped here, bursting for the loo and planning how I’m going to kill Lilly once I’m free. I’m torn between strangling her with my bare hands and battering her to death with my keyboard.

Ryan stands still, staring at me, his mouth ajar. I try to ignore the fact that I must look like a monster and concentrate.

‘Ryan! Thank God. Please un-tie me,’ I plead, feeling utterly ridiculous, but past caring. He and I aren’t going to be friends anyway, so who cares?

His face is unreadable as he stands there, looking me up and down. God, if he laughs I think I will punch him in the face. Well, as soon as he unties me. I start to clench my fists in preparation, my jaw hardening. Who the hell does he think he is? But then his features re-arrange themselves to a look of concern.

‘Who the hell did this to you? Are you ok?’ He hurries over and struggles with the knots.

‘I’m fine. It’s...a bit of a long story. It was my friend Lilly.’

‘Your friend did this to you?’ he asks, puzzled. ‘Wow, I’d hate to see what your enemies do.’

‘Ha ha bloody ha. Just un-tie me will you,’ I snap. I’m so sick of his wise cracks. He’s such a smarty pants.

He continues to struggle with the knots in silence and then looks at me, frowning thoughtfully.

‘Quite a few knots,’ he nods.

‘Yes. Thank-you for the clarification,’ I bark. He ignores me and carries on trying to un-tangle them.

‘There you go princess.’ he snarls sarcastically as he finally releases me.

I resist the strong urge to punch him in the stomach and run to the toilet before I wet myself, already feeling it releasing from my bladder. Thank God he didn’t actually find me having soiled myself. That really would have been something.

I walk back down the stairs feeling about a stone lighter. He’s still in the hallway waiting for me, a blank expression on his face. He probably just wants to swim in my embarrassment. I walk down the stairs, tensing my body, ready to tell him to get lost. He smiles crookedly and catches me off guard by grabbing my hand.

‘What are you doing?’ I shout, throwing his hand off.

He turns round in disbelief, his forehead wrinkled in anger and confusion as I glare at him. He grabs my hand again, roughly this time and practically drags me down the hallway into the kitchen.

‘Get off me!’ I shout, wriggling to get loose. I’ve had enough of being dragged around today.

‘Just sit down here will you,’ he says, almost throwing me on one of the kitchen chairs.

I hold my hand protectively and look down to see that it's red.

‘You’ve bloody bruised me, you idiot!’

‘Oh please.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Anyway, omelette, fried or scrambled?’ He holds up two eggs from the fridge, smiling angelically.

‘What?’

What is with this erratic behaviour?

‘I’m offering to cook you some food. Do you want some or not?’ he asks slowly as if he were speaking to a toddler.

‘Oh, um...yes.’

Why the sudden kind gesture? Maybe he’s a manic depressive who has different personalities. Maybe I met Ryan yesterday but now I’m speaking to Freddie.

‘Which? Omelette, fried or scrambled?’ he asks again, sighing heavily, as if to portray what a massive inconvenience I am to him.

‘Oh, um...scrambled would...be perfection,’ I blurt out, my tongue almost shaking with nerves.

Scrambled eggs would be perfection? I could have said ‘yes, I’ll have scrambled eggs please,’ or ‘whichever you prefer,’ but no-no-no-no-no. For me, scrambled egg is perfection. I loathe myself.

‘Do you want a tea?’ he asks, flicking the kettle on as he smiles to himself. Smiling at what an idiot I am.

‘Yes please,’ I say cautiously, watching him carefully. I’m totally un-nerved by how nice he’s being.

‘Do you take sugar?’

‘Yeah, four please,’ I say absentmindedly as I carry on surveying my sore wrist.

‘Four sugars? Fuck. No wonder,’ he snorts.

‘No wonder what?’ I demand.

Freddie has left the building. What is his problem? If I wasn’t so starving I’d tell him to stick his food up his arse. He mutters something under his breath and, although I can't hear it, I’m sure it's not something complimentary.

I sit in awkward silence watching him whip up scrambled eggs on toast for both of us. He places it in front of me and, although I’m terribly fussy, I actually approve of them. People tend to either do them for too long, letting it go rock hard or not enough and serving yellow snot. But his are perfect.

‘Do you...’ I stop myself, wondering if he’d take the piss out of me if I asked for ketchup.

‘Do I what?’ He gets ketchup out of the cupboard and squirts it all over his eggs.

Oh my God. I don't know anyone else that does that. He looks at me confused, and I realise I must look like a social retard.

‘Oh...nothing,’ I say trying to sound in control. I squirt the ketchup all over my eggs and then tuck in, feeling like I haven’t eaten in days.

‘So…’ he says, suddenly serious, ‘I guess Jazz told you that I’ve had previous things with Izzy and Grace?’

Things with Izzy and Grace? What does he mean by that?

‘But I just wanted to let you know that you’re safe,’ he winks, his mouth full of eggs.

Oh. Oh, I see. Jazz never told me I was moving in with a man whore.

‘Oh thanks,’ I say sarcastically, trying not to gag from the way he eats. Where was he raised, the zoo?

But wait, did he mean I was safe because he wasn’t attracted to me? Obviously, I don't care, but am I that ugly that there would never be any attraction? That he would laugh about how ridiculous the idea would be? Well that's a bit mean isn’t it? Besides, I’m shocked he’s managed to sleep with them. He’s a total slob. What on earth did they see in him?

‘So...do you not work?’ I enquire, breaking the awkward silence.

‘Not at the moment. I’m looking into a few things, but nothing solid.’

‘So, how do you live here? Are you on the dole? Or do Mummy and Daddy pay the rent?’ I add bitchily.

‘Neither actually,’ he replies scathingly.

Neither? How does he pay the rent?

‘Do you work?’ he asks. ‘What am I saying! Of course you work, that's where you stormed off to this morning,’ he says, clicking his tongue.

‘Well...I’m not very good in the mornings.’ I suddenly feel ashamed at what a bitch I must come across as.

‘Well that's clear.’ He smiles amused. ‘But then, if you work why did I find you chained to our banister?’

‘Well...it's a bit of a long story.’

He smiles at me, exposing perfect white teeth and I’m suddenly aware of every muscle in my body and how close he is to me. The atmosphere quickly turns awkward and a stupid grin takes over my face. I bite my tongue, trying to remove it, sure he must think I’m a window licker. It's almost like when I was at school and the popular boy talked to me. No. I’m wrong. This is completely different. It's just that he’s a weirdo. He finds it amusing to watch people squirm.