Page 7 of No One’s Daughter

​I made fast work of my late night meal, deliciously greasy as expected, and normally that would have hit the spot, but somehow I felt just as hungry as before.

​Despite the hour I felt full of life, nowhere near as tired as my brain told me I should have been.

​The pavement stretched ahead in long, dim strips under the amber glow of the streetlamps, and a brittle wind skittered along the ground, sending the last dry remnants of autumn scraping across the concrete in restless, whispering bursts.

​I slowed slightly, watching one cluster tumble past my feet as the feeling of something about this night being off weighed on me. I didn’t feel right. I exhaled, a faint cloud forming in front of me, and told myself to stop being ridiculous. It was late, it had been a long day. I was a bit drunk. Of course things felt off.

​Still, I found myself glancing over my shoulder.

​But there was nothing.

​I picked up my pace anyway. Home wasn’t far—just a few more minutes. The familiar outline of it waited somewhere up ahead, and the thought of it warmed my heart, a welcome contrast to the hollow edge that seemed to cling to the night.

I walked at a brisk pace back to my apartment, boots striking against the pavement as I passed the dimly lit off-licence on the corner—its harsh fluorescent lights buzzing faintly, casting a sickly glow over the window display of cheap spirits and faded offers. It was closed, shutters halfway down, the street around it silent and hollow.

Just as I rounded onto Hawthorn Street, the heavens opened.

Rain fell in an instant—no warning drizzle, no hesitant build, just a sudden relentless downpour that soaked through everything within seconds.

I smiled smugly at my correct weather prediction, looking skyward, and allowing the ice cold droplets to drown me, washing away the lingering heat and sweat from the club. My clothes clung to me quickly, growing heavy, my hair darkening as it plastered itself to my cheeks and neck.

I didn’t run from it. Didn’t duck for shelter. Instead, I slowed. Letting it happen.

Water streamed down my face, over my eyelids, along the curve of my jaw. The chill should have been unpleasant, but it wasn’t. I let out a quiet breath, an almost laugh, spreading my arms slightly as if to take more of it in.

As much as I could have stayed in the rain all night, common sense in the back of my mind prevailed and reminded me that I could quite literally die from hypothermia.

​I rushed past The Second Chapter, a bookstore. A warm glow still flickered in the back, letting me know that Timothy was undoubtedly burning the candle at both ends again, likely restoring some old book. I wouldn’t say I knew the man in his late forties well, but given that my apartment was directly above his—above the bookstore—we were friendly enough. He was a loner type, and so was I, so while we exchanged pleasantries now and again and I frequented his shop, our relationship never evolved into more. And to be honest, I preferred it that way anyway. I wasn’t a good friend, and was even less a good partner. I didn’t need extra people in my life. People had a predisposition for using and disappointing me, so I was better off without the added heartache. I’d learned that the hard way, and since I’d stopped trying to please everyone, I’d been happier.

​I climbed the narrow old staircase to my apartment, fumbling slightly with my keys before rushing through the door and locking it behind me. I kicked off my boots by the door and peeled off my soaking blouse, heading straight for the bathroom.

My apartment was tiny, but it was cosy and suited me just fine. I was lucky, in the fact that this apartment had belonged to my great-aunt and after my mother’s passing a few years prior, it had been passed down to Claire and me. There had been a time when she lived here on her own, then a stretch where Claire and I shared it, navigating one another's habits in the cramped space. That was before Dominic came along. Now the two of them had a place further out of the city, something bigger, quainter.

Which left this one to me.

It was the one real blessing our mother had left us, and after everything we’d put up with during our childhood, this apartment was the least we were owed.

​“Well hello there missus,” I said, my voice softer now, as I crouched to give Lucretia a scratch behind the ear.

​She chirped in response, blinking at me slowly, entirely pleased with herself. She’d shown up outside my window almost one years ago now. Obviously, I couldn’t just let her freeze out in the winter temperatures, and upon letting her in she’d made herself at home. I’d made enquiries of whether anyone had lost her, but no-one ever laid to claim her, so here we were. She’d claimed me as hers. I was glad of the company to be honest. It was funny, she’d appeared not long after Claire had moved out, as though she somehow knew I needed her.

​Lucretia gave a soft chirp before padding off towards her usual spot on the sofa by the window, tail flicking once as she settled.

​A clear dismissal, or a reminder.

She, of course, was right.

I turned on the tap for the bath and steam began to gather as the water ran, filling the small bathroom with warmth. Catching sight of myself in the mirror, I paused for a moment—dark hair damp and clinging in uneven strands, eyeliner faintly smudged beneath my eyes, cheeks flushed from drink and cold alike. I looked tired, but lighter, somehow.

I didn’t linger.

Soon enough, I sank into the bath, the water just shy of too hot. The heat sank into my skin, then my bones, dull and comforting.

​My skin was turning cherry-red as I lay there in the hot water, letting the sting of it numb my mind. It had been a day, and I was starting to feel the drain of all the social interaction. Normally I’d be beyond exhausted at this point in the night, oftentimes not even making it to bed and falling asleep on the sofa.

​But tonight, I felt… I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t put a name to it other than—strange. All of the exhaustion from earlier in the day had evaporated and I felt almost buzzed. But it was different from the feeling of drinking, or even drugs. It was just plain… strange. I had hoped the hot bath would have calmed me, but it only made me more restless. Not to mention that damn hunger. Jesus, I felt like I could eat an actual horse and still be hungry.

​With my long dark hair still damp and unruly. I pulled on some joggers and an oversized hoody before heading to the kitchen. I pulled open my fridge to be reminded that I’d yet to do a shop and my options were therefore limited as fuck. I sighed, pulling out a block of cheddar cheese.