The other side:
Sian Cardy

The door made a creaking sound.

Creeping towards the front door, my shoes were squeaking with every step.

My numb fingers fumbled at the first lock. It twisted open. The second took more force. I pulled the door. It didn’t budge. There was a third lock.

Who has so many god damn locks on a door? Who would break into a dump like this anyway?

Finally, the door was freed. I opened it as gently as I could, a rush of chilled air hitting my body.

I flung myself out into the night, running. my body flailing, slipping on the snow, my borrowed, untied shoes, at least one size too large. My limbs numbing with every step.

Despite my frantic movement, my thoughts slowed down as if the world had stopped turning.

The tulip heads bent over, as if bowing to me under the weight of the fresh snow. Snow, in March? What was the world coming to?

Slipping once again, I could feel my body sliding off the footpath. I didn’t try to stop it, leaving it instead to collide with the nearest hedge.

Now covered in a mixture of hedge leaves and snow. I looked up. Number 86. I’d never been here or seen who lived here. So overgrown was the garden, you couldn’t see inside the house.

It was perfect.

I found myself banging on the front door. A slightly perturbed looking guy answered, as I pushed past him, not even stopping to ask if I could come in.

I put myself on the far end of the sofa. As far away from where I could tell he had been sitting, from the look of the debris strewn around.

I focused on controlling my breath and winced in pain as heat found its way back to my body. He said something to me, but my mind was in too much of a blur to reply. He returned to the spot he’d been standing with beers in hand. I found myself involuntarily reaching out to accept one.

We sat and stood there in silence for the longest time. If he found it weird that I’d just arrived, he didn’t say anything. In fact, he could barely look at me, never mind speak to me. Fair enough really.

When it was time, I stood up and walked past him, slipping on a coat hanging by the door and stepped back out into the night.