Within the Castle

Shuffle into the elevator, go down, get the newspaper, shuffle into the elevator, go back up. That was the intended schedule for the Sunday. Seeing the new neighbour, meeting the new neighbour, and having to travel in the same elevator up with the new neighbour were all events which I did not anticipate.

“So, what’s up?” he had perked, standing next to me in the lift, holding a single, brown cardboard box in his hands. Disparate to myself, he obviously had not had a long and dreary Saturday night. With blue eyes wide open and eyebrows peaking up to the sun, the impression was portrayed that he had been awake for hours, eager to be moving into his new apartment. As for myself, my eyelids were weighty. My brain was throbbing. My leg muscles strained. I was dressed in nothing more than a baggy grey shirt, the colour ironically matching my mood, and a skimpy pair of pyjama shorts. Atop my head, my blonde hair was dishevelled and likely knotted to a point where one could question if my hair was naturally curly, when actually it is ordinarily straight.

Doing a full inspection of the man was not necessary. Out the corner of my eye, it was already clear that he was quite divergent to myself. Long beige trousers and a blue polo shirt was what I could see. He was dressed to make best friends with everybody living in the town, and I was dressed to make best friends with a bed.

Choosing not to completely ignore the newcomer, I replied, but I could not evade my tone being tired and sombre, “There’s two more levels of apartments, and then a balcony on the roof which has a view over the city. If you do go to the rooftop, though, make sure you don’t let the door shut behind you or else you won’t be able to open it again.”

As the elevator started up its movement, the only sound I could hear was it chugging and clunking upward. The dirty blonde boy remained silent to my statement, making me question if my voice was maybe so grave that it had scared him. Turning my head with sudden remorse, I expected him to be glaring back with disgust or shock from my gloomy attitude and appearance. But, his expression was far from frightened, in fact, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and on his left cheek, the skin was being sucked inward as though his teeth were chewing on it to avoid laughter.

It was not long before it dawned on me and blood rushed to the area around my cheekbones. “Right,” I choked, “so you didn’t mean what’s up literally. You were just asking how I was?”

A red tongue peeked from his mouth and zipped over his bottom lip before he replied with optimism, “well, at least I shouldn’t ever get stuck on the rooftop now.”

My lungs ached, trying to bust out a reply to cover the previous stupidity, but it seemed my jaw was malfunctioning. No words could escape. And unfortunately, I could not escape the awkward situation that I had created for myself in the lift. Nothing had ever offended me more than how disgusting slow the speed of the elevator was as I painfully existed with the presence of somebody who was probably experiencing intense second-hand embarrassment.

Regret stung my internal organs while I dissed my own decision to ever purchase a flat not on ground level. All I could do was count along as we gradually crept upward. The worst thought buzzing through my head was that I knew where this man was going to be staying. Only one room in the building had had adequate-enough safety and hygiene standards to be eligible for renting lately. The others on different levels were infested with pesticides. And the room, that was cleared by inspectors to be sold, was the room directly next to mine – split only by an unstable wall.

Eventually, a ding echoed in the small lift to indicate that we had reached our floor. Wasting no time, I ducked out before the automatic doors had even fully opened. Feeling his eyes on me, I quickly fumbled with my keys in my sweaty hand and attempted to open my door so no further conversation could be made. Nevertheless, he was hastier than me.

“I guess we are neighbours then,” he gushed, moving to stand in front of his door, situated side-by-side to my own.

“Looks like it,” I sighed under my breath, moving even closer to my own door so that my forehead was almost leaning on it and my face was slightly hidden.

Either he did not pick up the hint that I wanted to get away, or he ignored it, because he persisted in talking, asking, “maybe you could come over for dinner tonight then, so we can get to know each other a bit better?”

A kind smile and soft eyes were glazing at me when I twisted my neck around to look at him. Sleep was what I needed. Not a conversation or dinner with the neighbour.

There were domineering reasons why I knew I should not actually become friends with this boy. Even though he was evidently nice enough to overlook my ‘homeless-themed’ attire, useless conversation skills and snappy disposition.

“Maybe another day,” I tried to smile back, but my lazy eyes became set on the stitching of a white horse on his shirt. Raulph Lauren.

“Okay,” he presented his teeth now, smiling, for some reason, brighter than before.

Confused that he was not angry about being practically rejected, I dropped my glare to the ground and sauntered through my door, closing it behind myself. Before I was even able to gather my thoughts or take a seat, I heard the sound of scratching and budging coming from outside. That noise was not unfamiliar, and immediately I knew that it would have been the neighbour struggling to open his apartment.

Rocking back and forward on my heels with indecisiveness, I finally just back-tracked to where I was, opening my own door an inch to see a confused frown as he gently slid his key in and out of the tiny lock in the middle of the door knob.

“Um,” I gulped quietly, “the doors are too big for the frame. So, you kinda have to kick it open a bit with your leg. They just need a bit of persuasion.”

“Oh,” his face lightened once he realised I was there, “okay. Thank you.”

His body leaned back as he brought his foot up to knee height and then pounded the door open. Relief came out in the form of a sigh once he caught the first glimpse of his room. While picking up the brown box, which he had rested on the floor whilst trying to get in, he seized the opportunity to further introduce himself.

“My name is Luke, by the way, I never mentioned that before.”

“Luke,” I repeated, not having time to stop my own sentence as I kept speaking, “may the force be with you… I mean, like… for the next time you open the door… I don’t know… You probably don’t know Star Wars… I’m sorry.”

In a scurry and with lack of thought, I sunk back into my own apartment and slammed the door. Breathing heavily, I shut my eyes, not knowing what to expect, but actually feeling comfort when I could recognise a snort and small chuckle on the other side of the wall. Luke obviously wasn’t bothered by me so far. In only a matter of time, I was certain he would be, though. I was a bother. That’s me.

Stepping carefully, I mutely made my way into my flat. Unlike other Sunday mornings, there were no empty beer bottles scattered on various places over the floor. I was smart enough to clean them up the previous night, or rather that morning, before getting to sleep. That way, there wouldn’t be clangs or smashes when I rose to get the morning newspaper. That way, I wouldn’t have to deal with accidentally waking the snoring devil in the bedroom. That way, I wouldn’t have to be thrown an argument and smugly taught how to stay quiet.

My apartment room was only describable as tiny. And clean, most of the time. When first entered, it would seem like there is only one major section to it – a kitchen on the left, the stovetop and oven facing the outer wall and a counter less than a metre inward; a little lounge area at the back left, consisting of a two-seater couch facing the back wall and a TV; and, a dining spot to the right of the kitchen, having simply a square brown table and four wooden chairs on each side of it. Windows on the far back wall allowed merely for viewing to the skinny alleyway below and another, more prestigious, block of apartments across. The kitchen, lounge, and dining, were all gathered in one open part together, and because the flat was so tiny, they were all visible to the eye with an initial open of the main door.

Like you would hope, however, there was another two segregated rooms in the back right corner of the flat. One door opened to a bathroom, and the other the bedroom.

Vigilantly, I tugged a dining chair out so I could sit and, with any luck, I would have a few hours to myself to indulge in the weekly ‘creative’ lift-out of the newspaper. The few pages were always filled with an abundance of imagination; an escape that I could look forward to. Perhaps the only thing I had to look forward to.

More often than not on Sundays, as my eyes glimmer to the pictures of artwork, or short stories, or poetry, I would be interfered with the sleepy groans of the lump in my bedroom. I was used to that. But flicking through the pages on this Sunday was atypical, as I was met with a different sound. Very calm and delicate in the background was a low hum, recognisable as auditing from next door. By listening intently, I could interpret Luke bustling around his room, shifting and scraping furniture along the floor, moving objects around, and yes, buzzing a tune from his lips.

Luke was the first direct neighbour I had had since I had been living in the building. How dainty the walls between the apartments were was blatant by how they shook with extreme noise or a hefty push. Now, I was truly understanding their thin-ness as I overheard Luke’s every step. It frightened me slightly, because, firstly, if Luke was ever going to be loud, I did not want that angering my monster. And, secondly, if my monster was ever going to be loud, I did not want that angering Luke.

The following day, Luke and I came into contact again. Thankfully this time, I was dressed more appropriately, in denim jeans and a fitted white t-shirt, as I was, after all, headed for a morning lecture.

As I stepped out my apartment, I saw a figure, dressed in a slick black suit, shoes shining enough to blind me, pressing the down button for the lift. Initially, I was confused, knowing too well that the majority of other people in the entire complex did not ever even leave the confines of their rooms, let alone leave in such a formal outfit.

Of course, I understood instantly when he turned his upper body to see me. There should never have been a doubt in my mind that it was Luke. Just from the encounter yesterday, he had made it quite clear he was an optimistic man; a happy one. Someone who probably has a future. A stable office job. A reason to be awake at such an early hour in such credible clothing.

“Hey,” Luke’s voiced chimed into my ears, “what’s up?”

At that fragment of time, as I looked at his gelled back hair, his plain blue tie that matched dynamically with his eyes, and the silver cufflinks that studded around his wrists, I think I may have been feeling desire. I had not seen anybody like that in a long time – presenting themselves so well. The males, even the females, at university came in lazy clothing that demonstrated minimal effort. Not that I blamed them considering the sessions for the course I was completing were always early mornings. And the other one person that I came across more often than not wore only the cheapest of attire.

The ding, signifying that the elevator had reached the level, distinguished my thoughts erratically. Inhaling sharply, I tore my vision away from Luke’s, trying to shut my door and lock it so I could ride the same lift as him and not need to wait half an hour for it to get down and then back up. Scrabbling hopelessly, I fiddled and jingled my keys until the correct one finally scratched through the lock and clicked the door shut.

When I rotated around, I could see that Luke was already standing inside the elevator, extending his long arm outward into the corridor. Upon locking eyes, he smiled, almost as if to say ‘no problem’ for holding the doors, even though I had not said thank you. Although, within a split second, his face changed. Instead of remaining apart, like Luke assumed they would, the doors began to push inward to close off the entrance. Creasing a frown into his forehead, he used some strength to try and drive them back out with his arm.

But this elevator had a mind of its own. And I knew that no matter what Luke tried to do now, the doors were going to close, and there was no way to halt that. Quickly, I bounded the few steps forward, diving past Luke to try and thrust myself into the lift. In shock, Luke had stepped back, pulling his arm inside and away from the vicious and rapidly shutting doors. With wide eyes, he simply watched in concerned horror as I contorted my body to dodge in between the tiny gap and hopefully not be crushed flat like a pancake.

To my disbelief, and the comprehensive sigh of Luke, I made it. Arms, legs, head and body. All successfully inside, just as the ding repeated itself to indicate it was about to head downward. Leaning my back against the doors, I took a deep breath and shut my eyes, being grateful and forgetting I would have looked like the clumsiest fool when propelling myself in there.

Luke intruded my relief soon enough with a playful tone, “Okay… You need to promise not to freak when I tell you what is happening.”

Opening my eyes in a state of unease, I merely watched on while Luke’s lips dropped ajar. He needn’t actually explain the ‘what’ that was happening, because the sound of an elongated tear of cotton informed me.

My shirt. Had been clamped. Inside. The doors.
And while we were moving downward at a tedious pace, the hem of my top stayed attached to where it had been compressed, lifting upward and leisurely revealing my stomach.

“Ohmygod,” Luke testified, his open mouth splaying itself more so to become a chortling laugh.

Seeing his head throw back, and both of his hands fly up to cup over his mouth and jaw while he toppled backward in heavy chuckles, was probably the reason that I didn’t crumble into a pile of humiliation. Normally, water would have sprinkled in my eyes and trickled down blushing cheeks. But seeing Luke’s reaction made me immediately notice the humour in the situation.

Biting my lip, I let my chest heave up and down with giggles as I had no other option but to raise my arms to the sky and allow for the moving of the lift to literally pull my shirt up, over my chest and right over my head, leaving me standing with only my bra covering my upper body. The chuckles dripping from my throat only ceased when Luke’s suddenly calmed down also. He had not quietened gradually for some reason. Luke went from hysterics to concern in a second.

The contrast stunned me, and my eyes flickered to his, and then followed his gaze onto my hips, and then, I understood.

Swiftly, I employed my hands to act as means for covering my skin. I forgot. I was so stupid. Blue and purple marks, some even green, lined up and down around my hipbones. They were gruesome, and they angrily stained my otherwise white complexion. Now, that Luke had seen them, the mortification and shame of the whole ordeal was setting in.

The air getting choked in my throat and the stutter mocking over my tongue did not go unnoticed by him. Almost straight away, he caught onto how self-conscious I was appearing, and instead of posing questions that I’m positive he was wondering, such as ‘what are they?’ ‘where are they from?’ he chose to ignore the hideous marks.

“Well, now if anyone asks you ‘what’s up,’ you can add your shirt to the list,” his mouth slithered back into a smile.

If it weren’t for the cloak of shame dumped over my body, I’m sure I would have laughed, but my mind was still consumed by the understanding of what was really happening. Pushing his hands behind his spine, Luke began shaking his shoulders slightly, causing his black jacket to slip from his broad chest and drop down his arms. Using one hand, he held the jacket out to me across the small space.

After a couple of seconds, he spoke up to inform of his intentions, “go on, put it on, you can return it to me tonight when you come over for dinner. You don’t want someone to see you just in a bra when you head back up there to get your top. ”

Potentially turning an even brighter shade of red, I snatched the material from his hands and chugged it around my back, slotting my hands through the armholes. Perhaps I even smiled a little when I realised how short my arms were in comparison to the jacket arms. Barely even the tips of my stubby fingers were visible poking out the ends.

Coughing through the discomfiture in my lungs, I quickly questioned, “won’t you need this?”

“It’d be a low blow if they fired me on my first day just because I wasn’t wearing a suit jacket,” he tusked, letting his eyes float to the high corner of the lift while he pondered, “and, if they do, then I can probably sue them for some sort of discrimination case and end up earning a few dollars.”

“That’s true.”

When the ding sounded and the doors opened at the ground floor, Luke snuck his hands into his pant pockets and zipped outside – I guess he didn’t want to be the next victim caught by the doors.

“See you,” he called, dashing through the foyer, his leather shoes clipping on the tiled floor.

Subsequent to being alone, I took a few deep breaths to relax from the previous happenings. When I raised my hand to press the button for my apartment level, the shoulder pads of the suit rose up to my face, brushing my cheek. I hadn’t tried to catch a whiff of the coat, it just happened. The smell was a mixture of fleece and dusky cologne, and it felt light and soft, but at the same time very warm, when travelling in my nostrils. For the continuation of the trip upwards to my level, I let myself take deep inhales to reveal in the scent. It made me feel slightly creepy, but I knew nobody could see me, so I didn’t mind.

When I reached my level and saw my shirt trapped in the doors, I actually rolled my eyes and had to stop myself from grinning while I thought about how Luke had reacted to the scene. He seemed so happy-go-lucky. I was in disbelief that he worked a professional, formal job.

My top fell to the ground once the doors dinged open, and I rashly grabbed it and jumped the few steps to my apartment door. A couple of jiggles on the lock and a kick later, I was inside and greeted by whom I had momentarily forgot existed.

“The fuck are you wearing?”

For some reason, I was really taken aback by his spat words that day. Normally, I would have accepted and responded, as it was a regular thing. Maybe it was because I hadn’t prepared myself. Walking through the door, my head was still replaying Luke’s scrunched nose and throaty chortle while he witnessed the most unusual of situations.

“I’m- it’s- the- we-“

The different ways that I could try and explain the random jacket were pacing up and down my brain, and I could not settle on one that wouldn’t get me in trouble.

“Spit it out.”

My voice was so hushed and rushed that it was stunning I didn’t need to repeat myself, “my shirt got stuck in the elevator and someone let me borrow their jacket so that I wouldn’t have to come back up witho-“

Slowly, my sentence drained out along with his care for what I was saying. Shaking his head, he turned around and wandered away, muttering an insult that wouldn’t be distant from the truth. Only a dirty slut would get her body on show for someone she just met. Only a dirty slut. True. Me.

Later in the afternoon, I was alone and buckled into homework when the scuffling of feet and movement next door distracted me. Straightaway, I was reminded of the jacket from this morning and I didn’t hesitate in taking it from where I had neatly lay it on the lounge, leaving my flat to knock at Luke’s. There was barely a second of wait before the door whipped open to reveal a bright set of white teeth.

“What’s up?” he beamed casually, a little lacking in breath after pouncing at the door.

I brought the coat forward to present it back to him, and his eyebrows noticeably raised, “oh, yeah, I forgot about that one.”

For an unknown reason, when I tried to reply, my heart commenced beating at a rapid pace, and when the jacket was removed from my hands, they embarked on shaking – clear nervousness.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it,” I spluttered unexpectedly, the appreciation coming out so speedily and stammered that it sounded like sarcasm.

Luckily, Luke must have taken it genuinely, replying, “not a problem.”

Luke had large, thin hands and fingers, I saw as he bundled the jacket between them. They were quite the opposite of my own. On his, a few veins were visible and drew out a road map underneath his light skin and around his protruding knuckles.

“This is probably terrible for me to be mentioning now, considering this is already our third conversation,” he stated, and when I glanced up, I spotted his blue beads blaring into mine, “but I never asked for your name.”

“Oh,” I was unable to remove my eyes from his, “It’s Aurora.“

Squinting his eyes fleetingly, he hummed my name aloud, “Aurora… Aurora. Aurora, would you like to come in?”

Stepping backward and wrapping his hand around to rest on his backbone, Luke parted a gap for me to enter his apartment. Just the look on his face, as he clenched his jaw, hoping I’d step in, was luring enough. I can’t deny that I wanted to. So badly. I wanted to go in and sit and have him tell me everything about him. His objective in moving in here. Where abouts was his work. How old is he. Why is he so happy. I wanted to know.

However, I don’t often get what I want. So I would live without going into Luke’s room today.

“I can’t,” I swallowed, “Sorry, I have assignments and things I need to do.”

Body and mouth were in two worlds for Luke as, simultaneously, his neck nodded understandingly and his tongue begged for interaction, “may I ask what course you’re studying?”

“Y-yeah?” I questioned awkwardly. Not many people had ever wondered about what I do at university, “It’s the study of literature.”

“So, it’s about reading books?” his tone was feathery, encouraging for me to continue.

“Novels, we have to call them. Not books,” I began, eyesight drifted to the floor now, “and it’s other stuff too. Poems, articles, films… Almost anything and everything.”

It might have been the wind, or it could have been a ghost – I will never know. Nevertheless, a creak was made by my apartment door and it practically signalled me to leave Luke. I guess it was rather a good thing, as more talk with him may have pulled me further into his charm. I could not let myself be heaved into that. Too many problems could be ignited.

“I should go,” I spoke up, “Like I said, I have a lot of things to do.”

“Alright. Maybe I’ll see you again tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” I breathed, forcing my legs into the walls of my own flat, softly shutting the door.

That night, I ended up seated alone with assignment task sheets and crumpled white note pad pages scattered out on the dining table in front of me. Luke didn’t develop much noise next door, excluding the clang of a few pots or pans when he must have been cooking a meal. At 11pm, I comprehended that I was probably going to be unaccompanied for the entire night, and I assumed that desertedness would continue until around dinnertime the next day. I couldn’t help but be somewhat aggravated that I definitely could have spent time in Luke’s apartment and it really would not have mattered. Nobody would have found out.

However, if the devil had returned to my apartment, it would have been very bad luck for me and then I guess, looking from that perspective, it was a fantastic choice for me not to take the risk.

To my confusion, I was jolted awake the next morning by what sounded like a swarm of bees buzzing and an ambulance siren. Still quite dazed and lost in sleep, I sought for the first possible reasoning for the blare – an insect plague must have invaded the city, and all the paramedics were being called on duty to help the stung civilians. A smacking clap ended the poignant sound just as I came to my conclusion, and slowly, as I drifted back into the real world, it occurred to me that it must have originated from next door. Seeing on my bedside clock that it was only minutes before I would need to rise and begin my own day, I stretched from my quilt’s entrapment and prepared for class.

By the time I left my apartment, I was in a refreshed, content state of mind. Mornings like so, where there was nobody to pick a disagreement with me, or saunter in the way of my getting-ready routine, were always relieving for me. The sight of Luke, in another suit, this one more charcoal than black and almost velvet in texture, departing his flat at the exact timing as me was a final push to raising a smile on face. I wasn’t sure why his presence had that affect.

“What’s up,” he flicked his chin upward to greet me.

The way that he always presented himself so coolly seemed to drip pressure on myself to respond with the same ease. Somehow, the pressure never led me to succeed.

As it was the first thing to leave my mouth for the day, my words squeaked, “good morning.”

A smirk struck onto his face while he fidgeted with the lock on his door, but he did not bring up the mouse-similarities of my voice, and instead started speaking fluidly like he knew he needed to get something out.

“Aurora, I should apologise to you. I bought that new alarm clock yesterday on my way home from work and I had no idea it was going to be so loud. My goal was to have something that could wake up myself, not my neighbour too.”

“Oh,” I stalled for a moment, “that’s okay.”

Both of us now had our torsos directed to the elevator, and our heads were turned to talk to one another.

After my response, Luke continued explaining, “I wouldn’t have felt so bad if it didn’t wake you up. Hopefully you were soon to rise anyway and I only took a couple of minutes of your sleep?”

“It didn’t even wake me,” I stammered, unsure of why I succumbed to, or even had, the need to have him not feel bad.

Luke’s tongue ducked out to slip over his bottom lip, “It did, Aurora. I could hear you groan, through the wall, as soon as it went off.”

I felt really stupid then. The blinking of my eyes as I awkwardly gazed to the floor must have been spotted by Luke, because he continued conversing to take away my embarrassment.

“I think that gap near the floor, between our bedroom walls, must make the lacking blockage of sound even worse.”

Taking in his sentence, my eyebrows furrowed. What gap?

“You know, where the wall is supposed to connect with the floor. There’s a small chipped section. I would say it’s large enough to fit your fingers under, but maybe that would be all.”

Never had I even noticed any gaps there before.

It took a couple moments of Luke’s blue pools staring into the side of my skull to realise he was waiting for me to reply. Out loud.

Clearing my throat, I twisted my head to him, “I’ve never seen that before. I’ll have to look tonight.”

“Yeah,” his bright teeth lit up the entire hallway. Or perhaps it was his glossy hair doing that. Or the clean, white shirt. Or those polished shoes again. Or, hell, maybe just the complete, decorous icon that he was, glowing like an angel in a dump. “Did you press the button to go down?”

When he spoke, his whole figure remained motionless, except for his adam’s apple moving up and down his throat. Usually, he put his hands clasped behind his back, and I was yet to witness a frowning expression on him. Everything he did made the situations with him feel comforting and welcoming. But somehow, I was always incapable of holding a normal conversation. Each reply I made was stuttered or stumbled in a manner I had not intended. Each reply. Reply.

I gasped and snapped, “sorry, what was the question?”

Watching my features bounce back into reality caused a single chuckle from Luke, “did you press the button for the lift? I understand that it’s slow, but today it seems to be taking extra long to reach our level.”

Struggling to even remember if I had pressed the button, I lunged forward and drove my finger into the square button that told the lift to come and retrieve us. After a second or two, the eminent knelling could be heard as the machine heaved itself up each level. Luke and I did not discard a fragment of time when the doors dung open. We essentially threw our bodies inside, seeking to eliminate a repeat of yesterday’s antics.

Once the lift began inching into a downward motion, Luke spoke up again, “anyway, you wouldn’t consider coming over to mine tonight and I’ll make you dinner as an apology for waking you?”

I smiled lopsidedly at his offer – and how it was approximately the fourth or fifth time he’d asked me in three days. The appeal of having dinner with Luke set me into a whirlwind. My brain was set on ‘no,’ but my chest was demanding a ‘yes.’ My head got it’s way, of course, as it planted a mental image of someone in my head. Someone that I knew would not allow me to see Luke. And if they knew I was organising such a thing with Luke, they would castigate me.

“I can’t,” I sighed.

“Alright,” Luke piped immediately, “another day then.”

Unfortunately, I doubted there ever would be another day. Perchance it could happen in my dreams. That would be the only place though.

I really didn’t mind lectures, or just spending time in the student library. For the most part, it was interesting and provided relevant information that would be beneficial in my future career. That’s proposing that the degree would eventually get me into a workplace. My classes also gave me a getaway. Any time that I was not at university, I was virtually always at my apartment. And at my apartment, there was a never ending gamble that the fiend would be there too.

Arriving back home after class and a after few hours in a study room, I was met by that exact brute.

“Where were you?” he beckoned from his slouched perch on the lounge.

“Uni,” I answered.

His head tipped back and I could only imagine his eyes rolled.

“What’s for dinner then?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’ll want something to eat in the next hour, so…”

“I’ll go out and get something to cook then.”

“Pasta would be nice.”

Not even time enough for me to settle in anyway, I was back out the apartment, tapping my foot in front of the elevator door.

As soon as I escaped the complex, cold air struck goose bumps onto my skin. Trudging hurriedly, I tried to get to the nearest supermarket in record time. Although it was still bright, the warmth of the sun was no longer, meaning that slowly it was disappearing behind the curve of the globe. The faster I grabbed something to cook, the faster I could be back in my apartment and safe from the night. Kind of safe, anyway.

Upon reflection, it may have been better for me to stay out in the darkening air. What would happen to me out there couldn’t be worse than what happens to me inside my own flat.

I exhaled when I made it inside the light of the shop. Passing the other aisles, I kept my feet constantly moving until I reached a wide shelf buttressing an array of different pastas. Back at the apartment, there would be something I could mix it with. But for some reason, my mind became insanely tired as I scanned over the different types of spirals and cuts and measures of pastas.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a voice chirped from behind my head, “what’s up?”

Startled, I zipping my body around. It was Luke.

In perfect form, it was as though he had not even been to work at all during the day. Styled back, his blonde hair did not seem at all different from in the morning. The soft suit was still flat, and the shirt underneath unmarked. His shoes even appeared more sheened than ten hours ago, but that must have been the effect of them on top of the white shop floor.

Three yellow containers of 2-minute-noodles were rested in his palm while he probed, “you know if you had let me make you dinner, you wouldn’t need to be standing in front of the pasta shelf for an hour.”

“Oh, and 2-minute-noodles really would’ve been an extravagant meal, as you say,” I retorted, more aggressively than I predicted.

It was good Luke saw the joking side of my rejoinder.

His lips parted to a laugh before defending, “well, according to some of my work colleagues, this is something that needs to be tried – emphasis on the ‘need’ they said.”

“Excuse me?” I hawked, a lighter beam on my expression. “Tried? Try? Are you telling me you haven’t eaten 2-minute-noodles before?”

Luke tittered, “that was the same response they gave me!”

The bafflement must have oppressed my usual awkward nature around him, as I joined laughter and questioned, “what even are you?”

“I’m your friendly neighbour,” he confirmed.

“Friendly neighbourhood spiderman?” I jumped to reply, only then regretting my words when I thought that if he had not seen the film, he would not appreciate the quote. “Sorry.”

Biting on the inside of his cheek, he fleeted, “that’s the second movie you’ve quoted to me, you know. I’m starting to believe you really are a literature student.”

“Film. Not movie,” I corrected, under my breath, but he heard anyway.

“Oh, right. Novel, not book. And film, not movie. Got it.”

I did not know what else to say then. My gaze filled back to the pastas.

“Well,” he picked up the quiet, “if you can decide what you’re going to buy, I’d love to walk you back home considering it’s getting darker out.”

Blushing at the proposal, I abruptly nicked a packet of penne and began stepping along the aisle, headed to the counter. Luke followed.

The woman behind the register, mid-20s, I supposed, looked quite joyous to spot Luke and I walking to her isle. Placing the pasta onto the bench, I waited for her to recognise my existence, but she kept her eyes locked onto Luke’s. I honestly wondered how long it would be until she saw me. Luke must have pondered the same thing, as he purposely drifted his eyes onto me in the hope the woman’s eyesight would travel along with his.

“Hello,” she screeched when finally noticing my presence. A push of her curled hair behind her shoulders and a few flickers between myself and Luke later, she asked, “are you two paying together?”

“No,” I asserted quickly before Luke could talk.

“Good,” she purred, beginning to hastily scan my two items. While I was pulling the cash from my bag, she tapped her nails and smiled at Luke. Obviously, he smiled back. This is Luke we are talking about. If he could smile at me while I attempted lame jokes or accidentally threw rude replies, he would smile at anyone.

Another three minutes it took for her to scan Luke’s noodles. Who knew that so many winks and high-pitched giggles could be elicited during the transaction of just one customer. I stood by the exit doors in disbelief and observed as he politely kept up the conversation with her.

“That took a while,” Luke laughed later while walking out into the street with me.

“Flirting takes time, I guess.”

“Flirting? I think she was just being nice. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Luke had made a valid point. I had no excuse for being uptight about it. But Luke had some naivety about him that set him apart from anybody else. Take a randomly selected male from any nearby street and place him in that exact circumstance Luke just devoured. That male, I can assure, would have left the most confident, boastful human to walk planet Earth. Luke had barely grasped that the woman had taken a liking to him.

“Anywho,” he launched, “how was your day? Had another lecture?”

“Uh-yeah,” I began, “it was fine. Your day?”

We begun pacing along the footpath back the apartment complex. Initially, I was on the roadside, but in a prompt action, Luke slowed his walk, dipping behind me and then scooting to my right, becoming the one closest to the cars travelling past.

“Fine, also. It will take me a while to get coordinated with everything because I haven’t had a job like this before.”

“Where is your work?”

“Oh, I didn’t realise I hadn’t said. It’s only a block or two away, further into the city centre, at an accounting business. I never thought I’d be planning taxes and writing profit statements, but I guess this is how things turn out. It was here or I stay stuck in the country running my father’s business anyway. Before moving in here, I had only been to the city once, or maybe twice. My whole existence, I’d been stuck outside and away from the hype of this place.”

It was a shock to learn he was from the country. Since when ever do country folk move into the city already owning a suit and tie?

“What was it like in the country? Were you on a farm or something?”

Luke paused for a second but did respond, “something like that.”

“How old are you?” I couldn’t contain my interest crawling from me now.

“Nineteen,” he ratified, “And how did I get a job so young, you probably want to know? It was just my family knowing other people and so on… But please, I’m not enthralling at all. I would like to know more about you. Tell me what the student life is like.”

“The student life?” I queried, “well, mine is a bit different to most.”

Soon enough, we had made our way back to the apartment block. I couldn’t manage to tell Luke much about myself. There was not much I could say. He seemed so genuinely intrigued about me and found it hard to believe when I endorsed that I truly was a human with nothing exciting to tell.

“I shall have to keep my eyes peeled and discover more about you myself then,” he eventually gave in while we stepped out of the lift onto our room level.

“Good luck,” I leered, walking to my door.

“Thankyou,” he grinned, “Might see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, good bye.”

He studied me and called out as I pushed through my door, gliding into my open room, “Good night, Aurora.”

The pleasant chatter ended directly after that. I cooked dinner silently and listened to the grunts of the mammoth, who remained spread over the lounge fixated to a comedic show on the TV. Accidentally, my middle finger rested on the boiling pot over the stove and I gasped loudly at the burn. Even then, he kept engrossed in the sitcom.

“Took your time,” was the closest thing to a thank you when I passed down a full bowl into his lap.

“I burnt my finger on the pot when I wa-“

Munches and slobbering covered over the end of what I was trying to elucidate. Not once did his eyes remove from blazing into the TV. I made the choice to eat my food at the dinner table by myself. That way, I could lay a novel out on the wood and allow myself to gloss over the writing while I ate. The magic of fiction never failed to impress me. I could enter the life of another character, another person, and see things like them, become them.

The difficulty associated with imagination is the sinking feeling when you get slapped back in reality. A dirty bowl being chucked into the empty sink was the bang that popped the bubble of my dreams this time.

Across the room, he spluttered at me while picking at his teeth with a finger, “come to bed when you’re ready, yeah?”

Aware I did not have much of an alternative, I nodded, waiting for him to exit to the bedroom before I got up and begun scrubbing at the dishes. I spent a while wondering how he would have me tonight. Heaven forbid, I wanted it to be quiet. There was somebody living next door now. It was alright for me to suffer, but I did not want the burden of it all placed on anybody else. Particularly not Luke.
Please.

The skin on my fingertips became washy white and wrinkled because I found myself scouring the bowls for much longer than necessary. Fathoming that, I fastened my pace and efficiently drained the water so I would hopefully make it to bed in time and not be in trouble for keeping the monster waiting. After pressing off the TV and flicking at the main light switch, I prudently treaded into the bedroom, eyeing my surroundings. On the left hand side of the mattress was where he relaxed, with shuteyes and a fallen agape mouth. Not like I had thought he would be.

Taking this opportunity for a break, I did nothing other than, slowly and controllably, crawl underneath the scratchy covers on the opposing side. In my head, a new plan had devised itself – don’t move, and he should stay asleep. Then I would be left to slacken for the night; I would get a rest.

Such a plan was not to be had. Rustles emitted around me and soon a cold breath was prickling on my shoulder. The smell of dinner reeked from his mouth, but it was stanching of staleness and mould when coming from him. A rough finger poked into the side of my knee, and then voyaged up my thigh, across my stomach and to my breasts.

“What should I do with you tonight?” he growled, using his hand as a device to press my shoulders and upper body into the pillow – not that holding me down was required, as I knew too well not to move.

I figured that if I stayed silent, he might too. All I could think was if Luke could hear us. Never before had the creaking of the frame seemed so loud. Or the tiny bangs as the bedhead smacked against the wall. I wanted Luke to be in that section of deep sleep where nothing can wake you up.

Through the pain, I gritted my teeth and even bit my hand, trying to make the agony of another body part distract from what was occurring. When he made his final official rumble, water spilt from my eyes and I had to hastily rub my cheek into the sheets so the tear would disappear from view. His heavy arm slogged across my bare waist while I tried to drift into a slumber.

Following an episode like that, it was always a struggle to sleep. Clawing at the sides of my brain were the few little comments he snarled just minutes before. Do you like that, slut? Feel good, whore? When I was with Luke and he wanted to know more about me, I should have used those names as a description. They would have been honest.

Upon waking the next day, dark-blackening colours clouding the skin underneath my eyelashes, hinting that my sleep had been minimal. The bags were further a reminder of what he did to me last night, and my heart burned with chagrin and disappointment at myself.

I wanted out at once. I needed to flee this trapping apartment and get out of my own body. It was an uncomfortable physical hurt when he used me at nights, but it was an excruciating mental throb when I woke and felt drenched by worthlessness.

Seeing Luke was the last event scheduled on my list. Under his blonde locks held a functioning intelligence; one that hadn’t been messed or tampered with. He shouldn’t have to deal with someone so ungodly, and probably likely to impale him with negativity. That someone was me. Pushing my ear to the entrance door, I breathed slow so that I could hear and interpret each of Luke’s steps as he left his flat for work. For a long time, he paced along the carpet of the hallway, like he was waiting for something.

Ultimately, he just grew impatient and his footsteps became no longer when he left out the elevator, and the noise of it clanking down informed me that I could then leave too.