I wait a moment before removing the chair from the door. The house went silent a few moments ago, so I twist the doorknob slowly. I can hear the spring coil inside it. Finally, the latch releases the door from the frame and I open it just an inch. There are still no sounds coming from the living room. That gives me enough confidence to open the door a bit more and stick my head out. I have a clear line of sight from here to the living room. I can barely hear the guards chatting about something, but the voices sound too muffled for me to make out what they are saying. But if they are chatting quietly, then everything must be okay for me to step out in my pajamas. I walk towards the coffee table. Before I reach it, I see one of Bruno’s boots on the floor. I take a couple more steps, only to find him lying on the rug, sleeping. Judging from the overwhelming smell of alcohol coming from him, I’d say he rather blacked out.
I’m on the fence trying to decide if I should help him up or not. A part of me wants to help him, but the other one wants to go back to sleep.
“Just leave him there. He’s an adult, you know.”Classic Life, not giving a fuck about him.
I decide I have to wake him up and lead him to the guest room. But before I can make him stand up, I notice there’s a wound on his forehead, and he’s bleeding. I manage to pick him up just enough to have him sit on the couch.
“Wait here, I’m getting the first-aid kit.” He’s now trying to keep his eyes open. I make my way to the bathroom and grab what I need. When I return to the living room, I find him in the same spot with his eyes closed and rocking his body to avoid falling again.
“Did I waaake you?” He can barely articulate. He’s completely shit-faced. Before I can answer that question, I notice that not only he reeks of alcohol, but he also stinks of perfume… a woman’s perfume. I can’t believe this. Here I am, ready to help him after he woke me up, and he just came back from a night out, freshly fucked by a woman.
“Yes, you woke me up,” I say angrily, and start to clean his wound with a gauze drenched in rubbing alcohol. I rub it harshly against his forehead to make it sting.
“Are you okay, Sarah? You seem upset.” The fucker is moving his head to look me in the eye, but my arms are in the way. I need to avoid eye contact— he can read me like an open book.
“I’m fine. I just can’t stand that smell of cheap woman perfume all over you.”
“Oh. So, you are jealous.”
“No, I’m not jealous. Shut up.”
“Yeah, right.”Life claims.
“What is it then? Tell me.”
“It’s nothing. You need a shower, you smell like shit.” I drop everything and go back to my room, slamming the door behind me.
Long-time no see, adolescence.
I can’t believe this! What an awful man. He disgusts me. I wish this would end soon, so I can get the fuck out of here! I’m walking around my room like a caged lion, feeling angry, among other things. How dare he go out for drinks and fuck a random stranger? How dare he be happy?
He doesn’t deserve to be happy or feel pleasure!
What is wrong with me? Why are my eyes burning like this?
I drop to my knees and start to feel pressure on my chest. I’m hyperventilating heavily and can’t control myself. I’m crying out loud while gasping for air. This is the first time I’m letting myself go in a long, long time. I don’t care if he can hear me. I just want this pain to go away.
The weight over my shoulders is just too heavy.
The cell.
The torture.
Bruno.
My mom’s murder.
Bruno.
“Sarah, please, open the door.” Bruno knocks and follows it with a plea.
“No. Go away, leave me alone,” I utter these words while still trying to fill my lungs. At the same time, fluids are pouring out of my eyes and nose.
“Just open it, come on.”
“FUCK OFF!” After saying that, I start to cough, gasping for air. Breathing becomes too difficult and I can’t stop coughing.
“Sarah, are you okay?” I can’t answer. I’m too busy trying not to pass out. He panics and starts to try and knock down the door with his own body.
