shoulders, shaking her then embracing her.
‘It’s okay. We’ll get you some help,’ he whispers in her ear.
Sarah opens her eyes again and looks at her own face, distorted by the wet mirror. She licks her lips and tastes blood and vomit. Bending down, she swills out her mouth. It isn’t fair. All I want is to be in control of my own life. Is that really too much to ask?
Steve’s familiar face returns to her thoughts. Compared to the mask or her father’s disapproving eyes, it is a welcome image and one she embraces. ‘I shouldn’t have left you there alone,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you text me?’ Blushing, she remembers her garbled conversation with Marian, his mum. Marian doesn’t seem to understand her worries. She thinks Steve can take care of himself. Sarah noticed the impatience in his mother’s voice. Does she think I’m stalking him? Sarah wonders how many times her strange yet beautiful boy has stayed away from home. I guess Marian’s probably used to it. The years they were together, Steve frequently slept at Sarah’s flat. Where else does he sleep?
Her empty stomach twists with jealousy. Not only at the thought of Steve sleeping next to another woman, but also at his complete freedom. Whenever Sarah stays away from the flat, Donna worries. Before Donna, Sarah’s gaolers were her parents, after Donna maybe a boyfriend, partner, husband. She dreams of a life without obligations, no need to log-in and log-off: a life without walls. Years of studying an art degree and yet she still spends each day advising idiots about the best possible telephone tariff. What do I want? In the mirror flickers an image: a tiny cottage, surrounded by flowers and trees. Ivy climbs its walls. I’d have no phone. I could paint all day. But who would buy my paintings? Who cares, I’d live simply. I’d get by. Warmth spreads through her. Could she really do it: live alone? Live free. Maybe, in odd moments when she doesn’t feel weighted down by life, she imagines her existence is no more than a cocoon that she will, one day, emerge from – transformed. On other days she looks ahead and sees only this, until the moment she finally slashes her wrists and kisses it all goodbye.
Yes, she envies Steve his freedom, but she still worries about Paul’s intentions. Paul seems far too interested in Steve. What will he do? No, surely Steve can take care of himself? That’s what being a man means, but there is the other thing … Steve’s demon, real or imagined. What will we do about Lilith? Only a few days ago she pledged to help Steve defeat Lilith, and yet here they are, already separated by distance and focus. Am I letting him down?
‘Stop this,’ she growls at the mirror . I’m not letting anyone down but myself. Have I bought into his psychosis again? Steve is a disease. I see his face, smell his skin, and I am lost again, drowning in a world of chaos and magic. It isn’t my world, it’s his and I don’t belong there. She shakes her head, tears sting her eyes. But where do I belong? Surely not here either? Maybe she should be with Steve. Standing here in the bathroom is getting her nowhere. At least she could check if he’s okay. She dries her face and goes to leave the room, then stops. Do I want to help or hold him? I left him for a reason, many reasons. It was painful enough the first time. I might not be strong enough to leave again. She looks back and stares at her face in the mirror. Her fingers yank at her curls. She pinches her cheeks. Clenching her teeth, she shakes her head, long enough and rapidly enough to leave her light-headed and dizzy. She must stay at work. She should concentrate, earn her money then leave. It is the only way she can be free in this world.
She walks back to her desk. As she reaches it she hears her phone beep, and she rushes to her open bag. Let it be him. Let it be him , she wills. It’s a text from Raven. Logging back onto the network, she puts the mobile back, the text
‘It’s okay. We’ll get you some help,’ he whispers in her ear.
Sarah opens her eyes again and looks at her own face, distorted by the wet mirror. She licks her lips and tastes blood and vomit. Bending down, she swills out her mouth. It isn’t fair. All I want is to be in control of my own life. Is that really too much to ask?
Steve’s familiar face returns to her thoughts. Compared to the mask or her father’s disapproving eyes, it is a welcome image and one she embraces. ‘I shouldn’t have left you there alone,’ she says. ‘Why don’t you text me?’ Blushing, she remembers her garbled conversation with Marian, his mum. Marian doesn’t seem to understand her worries. She thinks Steve can take care of himself. Sarah noticed the impatience in his mother’s voice. Does she think I’m stalking him? Sarah wonders how many times her strange yet beautiful boy has stayed away from home. I guess Marian’s probably used to it. The years they were together, Steve frequently slept at Sarah’s flat. Where else does he sleep?
Her empty stomach twists with jealousy. Not only at the thought of Steve sleeping next to another woman, but also at his complete freedom. Whenever Sarah stays away from the flat, Donna worries. Before Donna, Sarah’s gaolers were her parents, after Donna maybe a boyfriend, partner, husband. She dreams of a life without obligations, no need to log-in and log-off: a life without walls. Years of studying an art degree and yet she still spends each day advising idiots about the best possible telephone tariff. What do I want? In the mirror flickers an image: a tiny cottage, surrounded by flowers and trees. Ivy climbs its walls. I’d have no phone. I could paint all day. But who would buy my paintings? Who cares, I’d live simply. I’d get by. Warmth spreads through her. Could she really do it: live alone? Live free. Maybe, in odd moments when she doesn’t feel weighted down by life, she imagines her existence is no more than a cocoon that she will, one day, emerge from – transformed. On other days she looks ahead and sees only this, until the moment she finally slashes her wrists and kisses it all goodbye.
Yes, she envies Steve his freedom, but she still worries about Paul’s intentions. Paul seems far too interested in Steve. What will he do? No, surely Steve can take care of himself? That’s what being a man means, but there is the other thing … Steve’s demon, real or imagined. What will we do about Lilith? Only a few days ago she pledged to help Steve defeat Lilith, and yet here they are, already separated by distance and focus. Am I letting him down?
‘Stop this,’ she growls at the mirror . I’m not letting anyone down but myself. Have I bought into his psychosis again? Steve is a disease. I see his face, smell his skin, and I am lost again, drowning in a world of chaos and magic. It isn’t my world, it’s his and I don’t belong there. She shakes her head, tears sting her eyes. But where do I belong? Surely not here either? Maybe she should be with Steve. Standing here in the bathroom is getting her nowhere. At least she could check if he’s okay. She dries her face and goes to leave the room, then stops. Do I want to help or hold him? I left him for a reason, many reasons. It was painful enough the first time. I might not be strong enough to leave again. She looks back and stares at her face in the mirror. Her fingers yank at her curls. She pinches her cheeks. Clenching her teeth, she shakes her head, long enough and rapidly enough to leave her light-headed and dizzy. She must stay at work. She should concentrate, earn her money then leave. It is the only way she can be free in this world.
She walks back to her desk. As she reaches it she hears her phone beep, and she rushes to her open bag. Let it be him. Let it be him , she wills. It’s a text from Raven. Logging back onto the network, she puts the mobile back, the text
Similar Books
