Eve moved, racing to slam the deadbolt home and peering through the metal bars. The thick darkness pushed against the light of the street lamp, causing the yellow halo to contract around the metal footing. There was no movement outside, nothing but the blur of rain pelting the glass.
Maybe I should call the police and get them to drop me home? The ticking clock reminded her she had no time to waste. The few precious hours she had until she started work again needed to be spent sleeping. She’d have to wait at least a half hour for the police to escort her. Eve glanced once more out into the night and sighed with resignation—she’d walk instead.
She opened the safe chute and dropped in the day’s takings. Alone, she switched off the lights before leaving by the back door. Mr. Quinn should’ve been here by now. If he wasn’t, his tardiness meant only one thing, his wife had relapsed. Cancer of the brain was killing his wife. She had mere weeks to live. Eve’s heart sank as the realization dawned that something bad had happened. She’d lock up without him and give him one less thing to worry about in his time of need.
Despite her comfortable runners, her feet ached. Not much longer until I’m home. Eat, sleep, and work, this was her life. But not for much longer. Soon, she’d become a mother. Eve caressed the top of her expanding stomach. Her child was all she had. He was more than her future. He was her reason for living, for being a better person, for being a stronger person. She was determined to give him all the things she never had—starting with a mother who loved him.
She’d known from the very first moment she’d have a boy. The thought of a girl never felt quite right. Every thought and every image she had was about him. The only thing evading her was his name.
It took her longer than normal to get to her building. The icy rain flogged down, soaking her to the bone. Speed was limited to a waddle, bypassing the puddles surrounding the pharmacy and navigating the slippery paths to the external stairs guarding her building. She was behind on rent again. Her pay from her second job at the cafe had been short these past few months in retaliation for her pregnancy. Eve tried to leave, but jobs were limited and no one wanted to hire someone pregnant. Until the baby was born, she was forced to put up with the way her boss deliberately shorted her pay. This meant going without luxuries and then necessities to survive. For the past three weeks she had to forgo rent as well. Eve had no real plan for after the birth, she’d apply for government assistance for a while and then look for something she could fit around being a mother.
The metal rungs of the fire escape were slippery from the rain. As much as she hated putting her and her son’s life at risk, there was no other option. The internal stairs were guarded by the building superintendent. She had managed to avoid him, but it wouldn’t be long before she would be broke and homeless. So, she held tight and climbed the ladder which led to her apartment, one careful step at a time.
Eve gripped the bottom of the window and lifted until the balky frame squealed and ground to a halt halfway. The wood had swelled from the winter rain. The muscles in her arms bulged and her back ached, but she kept trying. She rattled the window in the frame, trying desperately to get the swollen casement open those last few inches. But her efforts were useless.
Eve crawled in through the window, dragging her swollen body over the bottom of the frame. At the last moment she lifted herself too early, catching the back of her head on the frame. “Oww, shit, shit!”
Tears welled in her eyes. Pain tore through her scalp. She stepped back, making sure she was well clear of the window this time before she straightened and shoved the stubborn frame down. Her chest tightened and sobs fought their way free. Depression waved a white flag inside her mind, enticing her with little yellow pills and a trip to oblivion.
She hadn’t touched Valium since that night in the alley. The night her life changed in more ways than one. Only fragments of her memories remained. Most were too hazy to recollect.
The bar and the attack were clear in her mind. The humiliation accompanying those memories made shame heat her cheeks. The memories of her rescue blurred. Sky blue eyes and thick black hair were the things she remembered. The kiss stayed with her—the kiss that stole her breath and resolve.
She’d been a virgin the night of the attack, barely kissed and never touched. When she awoke with an ache between her thighs the next day, she knew she’d lost two things, her virginity and the memories that went with something so special.
Eve navigated through the lounge room to the other end of her apartment. She veered off course, knocking her shoulder against the protruding kitchen wall and moved to the left, reaching the front door. She reached out in the dark until she found the light switch. She flicked it on, but nothing happened. She tried again, and again, and again. Dropping her head against the wall, her tears fell. No power meant no hot food and no hot water. The reminder notice from the power company was stuck to her fridge, beside all the other bills. She had no way to pay them.
Crying isn’t going to help. Get it together. She inhaled deeply. She couldn’t allow herself to be weak again. Eve headed to the kitchen and squinted in the dark, trying to help her eyes adjust, needing to see the cot. She’d sold what was left of her jewelry and belongings to buy the painted timber crib. The second-hand bassinet was all she had to offer her son. It sat in the middle of the apartment, the light from the moon illuminating the small bed like a white beacon in the dim room.
Tears stung her eyes. She brushed them away and turned to the bedroom. The light from the moon didn’t shine into the room, like it did in the lounge and kitchen. In this room, the lack of light left her to fumble in the dark until she found the torch beside the bed. Her stomach ached with an endless hunger she could no longer ignore.
Her body was feeling the extra weight she now carried. It didn’t matter how much food she bought and ate, she was always hungry. Her legs were thin, her arms hard and bony. Even her face had changed, no longer round and healthy, now drawn and sickly. She forced herself to go into the kitchen, instead of the bed she craved. The tins of thick soup sat on an otherwise bare shelf. She’d have to make do for tonight. Tomorrow morning she was scheduled to work at the café. She could steal food then. Day-old food no one would miss, then she’d buy food when she got paid and be okay. Eve grabbed the tin of chicken soup and searched the drawer for the opener as the gnawing hunger turned savage. The beam from the torch shone on every utensil she owned, every one she didn’t need and not the one she did. Eve blinked back the tears, refusing to be undone by a damn opener, but it was useless, the tool was nowhere to be found.
The torch light glinted off the edge of a knife. In desperation, she grabbed handle and punctured the top of the can with the blade. Tiny white chunks of potato hovered underneath opaque liquid. She didn’t think, just lifted the can to her lips and swallowed. Food. In that moment there was nothing she wouldn’t do for food, for shelter, and for safety. The basic survival needs put everything else in perspective.
She gulped down the contents, wiped her mouth, and stared at the crib. Despite the fact she sat in the dark, it was as though the light burned bright. She could still see every painted knot in the timber and smell the sunshine on the sheets. This was her time, these few seconds where she dreamed about what it was going to be like to be a mother. She didn’t have a whole lot to go on, more the how-not-to-be, instead of the other way around. Unlike her own mother, she’d be kind and loving, and she wouldn’t hold herself back. She’d give her child everything she never had. Someone who loved him would be a start. Eve washed her hands before walking into the lounge. She touched the crib, running her hands over the smooth frame and the soft, thick quilt. The wall of her stomach bowed outwards. She covered the bulge with her hand, feeling the life-kick inside her, knowing that soon she wouldn’t be all alone. “Please hold on honey, just a little while longer.”
Sleep called to her, but she knew there was no way she’d settle, not without a wash at least. She headed for the bathroom. It was freezing in he
r apartment, so cold her teeth rattled. She longed for summer, for relief from the endless cold of July and for the baby she would hold in her arms.
The water was still warm when she filled the hand basin, but it soon cooled against her skin. She washed and dressed, piling on her track pants, T-shirt, and a thick jumper in an effort to get warm. She slipped into the bed. The cold sheets took her breath away, but she warmed slowly under the covers. I need to sleep. So tired. I’ll feel better in the morning. She sighed and her eyes closed. It will be all better in the morning.
An icy sensation traveled down Eve’s body, dragging her from her dream-filled state. She shifted in the bed. “Go away. Too tired.” The frigid feeling continued, trailing between her breasts, reaching for her neck. Eve groaned and lashed out. Her hand connected with flesh.
She screamed. Opening her eyes, she kicked the sheets, pushing against the headboard. The sound of her heart thrashed in her ears. The darkness left her blind. She leaned to the side and searched beside her bed for her torch, finding only the hard wooden floor.
The heavy thump drowned out everything else. Eve breathed deep, trying to calm her heart while she listened. She drew her knees up to protect her stomach while her hand skirted over everything but the hard metal torch. It’s just a dream, a stupid dream. If she told herself enough times, she'd believe it. It's just a dream and there's nothing here. Adrenaline left her slowly, giving way to exhaustion. Eve tried to relax and slipped down into the bed—until the darkness moved.
She scrambled up in the bed to cringe against the headboard, her voice a screech. “Who's there?”
The dark didn’t answer.
Resuming her frantic search, her fingers skimmed cold metal and she snatched up the flashlight. Finding the button with her thumb, she flicked it on and waved the beam across the foot of her bed.
A man stood at the end of her mattress. His arms hung by his side, his head tilted toward her, partially hidden under the dark blue, hooded jumper. It was the same man from the pharmacy. Here in her home, in the dead of the night.
Eve’s mind froze and then kicked into gear. Her breaths came out sharp and painful. The choking groan burned and caught in her throat. She clutched her stomach with one hand while she bounced the torch beam around the room with the other.
“Who are you? What do you want?”
The narrow beam illuminated his chest and left his eyes sunken black hollows. He didn’t answer. He stood there, staring. Every sound made Eve jump. She could hear water drip. The slow trickle jacked her heart rate and her trembling increased. It’s not real, it’s not real. Please God, let this be a dream. She closed her eyes, squeezing them until the muscles on her face ached. When she opened them, he was gone.
Eve shone the torch around the room, finding each corner with the wavering beam. Her hand trembled. She found nothing. There was no man standing at the end of her bed, no dripping water to drive her crazy with fear. She listened and searched with her wavering light for what seemed like hours. There’s no one here. Eve felt foolish. Only a pregnant woman with an over-tired imagination who needs more sleep…. But first, I need to pee.
Her heart slowed to normal and stillness replaced the speeding of adrenaline in her veins. Eve straightened her socks, pulled back the covers, and swung her feet to the floor.
She left the torch, knowing the way by feel alone, and made her way around the bed. For this feat she’d need two hands. She gripped the door frame and worked her way toward the toilet. Cold from the bathroom seeped through her thick socks. She jerked down her pants and groaned as her warm body met the icy seat. Eve closed her eyes and let her body relax, trying her best to shake off the nightmare. A creak echoed through the apartment, the sound of footsteps on a worn wooden floor.
Her wooden floor.
She yanked the paper and wiped, pulling up her tracksuit. Her senses were wired, listening for every sound. A low groan shattered the silence. The sound started, stopped, and then started again in a constant drone. She reached for the wall, sliding her hands along the cold tiles. She was caught in no-man’s land between the bathroom and the bed. Her foot slipped and she caught herself before she went down. Her heart throbbed and sped. She focused on the sound, forcing her feet to move, and made her way into the lounge room. The glow of the moon cast a soft beam through the front room, illuminating the source of the sound. The cradle rocked side-to-side. The movement caught her gaze. She searched the darkened room.
“Is anyone there?”
Eve closed the distance and placed her hand on the cradle, stopping the motion, cursing herself for leaving the torch behind. Surely I didn’t leave the window open?
She couldn't feel a breeze. Her mouth felt dry and she swallowed. Just check the damn door, stop being a wimp. The shadows stayed silent as Eve walked over and checked each window. They were still closed. “Please tell me. Is anyone there?”
The cradle moved, sounding like a scream. Eve jumped, covered her mouth and she shuffled toward it. Just stop it, please just stop it. She grabbed the smooth rail, stilling its motion once more. Cold fingers trailed along her hand, grinding her fingers onto the timber.
“Remember me?”
Eve drew breath to scream. The sound was ended before it began. A hand gripped her throat. She lashed out with her fist and her feet, her blows slapping wet clothes and a hard body. She scratched and kicked, fighting with everything she had, until pin-pricks of light burst in her eyes. Her body grew heavy.
“Shut the fuck up! We’re not here to hurt you.”
He relaxed his grip. Eve choked and wheezed. Sweet cold air filled her lungs. Someone behind her laughed. It was a soft, woman's laugh. Eve grabbed her throat as she sucked in the air. This can’t be happening again. “I have no money, or drugs, if that’s what you want.”
“Drugs. You think this is about drugs? What is your name... what is your fucking name bitch?”
“My name…is Eve and I... don't have anything.”
She could feel his breath. It was cold, so cold. It reeked of old tin. The edges of his hood skirted her cheek. The fabric dripped and water ran like a tear down her cheek as he leaned in. “You have nothing? In that case, my mistake. I'm sorry for disturbing you.”
Before Eve had a chance to speak again, he was gone. She searched the darkness for movement or sound—there was nothing. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes darted to the door. Don’t do it, she pleaded with herself. Don’t… run.
The need to survive overrode everything else, including her common sense. Eve pushed off, her socks sliding on the floor. She held onto her stomach, her gaze locked on the front door. She took the corner into the kitchen too close and her shoulder slammed into the wall. Eve rebounded and kept moving. Nothing else mattered, not money, food, or pain. All she cared about was her son.
Laugher sounded in front of her. Eve stopped and turned, searching for a way out. A soft sigh to her left made her spin in the direction of the front door and her only hope of escaping. A scrape, a step sounded all around her now. She pushed forwards, her outstretched hands hitting the front door.
The sound of his voice made her feel like the walls were closing in. “Where do you think you’re going?”
She clawed at the lock, her hand shaking so hard her fingers kept sliding off the metal.
“You’ve hurt my feelings, you know? I mean, I thought we were getting along. I thought we were fucking connecting!”
Something punched her. She felt the crunch in her shoulder and she slumped to the floor. He gripped under her arms and pulled her body against his. His groin pressed so hard against hers, his erection dug into her thigh. He was… excited, underneath his clothes. Revulsion rode the bile in her belly all the way into her mouth. Images of her future invaded Eve’s mind. He’s not going away. He’s not going to leave until I’m raped, dead, or both….
Her voice trembled. “Just tell me what you want and I can get it for you. Money, drugs, all you have to do is just say the words.”
&n
bsp; He lifted her, pressing harder against her. She closed her eyes, shutting out the feel of his body on hers.
“I want you. That's what I want. I'm gonna cut up this pretty little body of yours and rip that child from your stomach. And when you're lying there, bleeding out on the floor, I'm gonna snap its tiny little neck.”
Her son kicked, as though he fought not for himself, but for her, too. She swallowed the sobs burning inside her chest. Eve wanted to cry, she wanted to give up, but that was the old Eve, when she was weak. She wasn’t weak anymore. She knew she couldn't fight him. Outsmart him? Maybe. She buried her revulsion. “Do whatever you want, but please don’t kill me and don't hurt my baby.”
“Shut the fuck up, or I'll slit you open right now.”
He pushed back the hood with one hand before his palm grazed her body. He dug his fingers into her breasts. She cried out and he dug harder.
Eve stayed on her feet only because his grip on her throat and her fear kept her awake, kept her fighting. My baby... I won’t let you down. She struggled against her attacker, but his crushing grip pulled her closer. His lips were dangerously close to hers. Please God, no. His hand skimmed her stomach and thrust between her thighs, pulling at them until they parted, even though she clamped her legs tightly together.
She cried out and he crushed his lips down on her mouth, swallowing the sound. He moaned as though enjoying her cries of terror. And then he squeezed harder. She fought for her son. Every blow, every scream was for him. Get away… get… away… Eve kicked, aiming for his balls. She hit soft flesh. He jerked back and hissed. Eve kept on kicking. There was nothing she could do, but fight. She clawed his face and neck until her fingers burned, twisted her body until it could go no further. Fight. Fight. Fight.
Fists banged against the door. Each strike to the wood caused her to jolt. The thunderous sound rebounded in the room. Her attacker's hand dug deep between her legs and gripped her sex before thrusting her aside.
Paranormal After Dark Page 28
