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The door to the estate agency swings closed and Josh approaches. He looks so put-together this evening. He has a large umbrella sandwiched under his arm, keeping the rain from his suit, which appears new. His hair has been sleeked back and an aura of smugness surrounds him. “Bravo, Chelsea. You succeeded in hurting him so much that he’ll never give you the time of day again.”
“Bite me,” I spit out, and hurry toward the door leading to my flat. My feet pitter-patter as they hit the cold metal beading on the stairs. But it isn’t only my feet I hear. Heavy footfalls echo around me as someone follows closely behind.
My pace quickens as I reach my flat. I grab the door, about to slam it shut, when Josh steps up behind me. I freeze on feeling his warm breath against my cheek and, for the first time in a long time, I feel scared.
“Touch me, and I’ll scream,” I croak.
Fingers brush through my wet hair, and I squeeze my eyes shut as Josh takes a deep inhale. “I won’t deny that I have always wanted what my cousin has. His wealth, his heritage, his business. Though not women.” He releases my hair. “I won’t deny that you are somewhat pleasing to the eye, but I’m in love with Natasha.”
I relax a little at his words. “What do you want, Josh?”
He doesn’t speak for a beat, and it’s as though he’s deciding on just the right words. “I wanted to thank you for doing the right thing.”
I scoff. “Gee, thanks.”
“And to show my appreciation I am giving you a year’s free pass on one of the Calloway cruise liners. Courtesy of Duncan Calloway, of course.”
Of course.
“I’ll pass,” I say, and try to dislodge his arm from the door. But he doesn’t budge, not so much as an inch.
“I’m sorry, I think you misunderstood. Let me try that again. You have until the end of the month to pack up your shit and move out.”
My mouth falls open. “You can’t do that.”
“I can, and I am. Lucian will be busy running the housebuilding company, the biggest and most profitable Calloway chain. He doesn’t need any distractions. I need you to move out so Natasha and I can move in. I will be running the business downstairs; it makes sense that I live close. As payment, I am giving you a year-long cruise. I’ve even thrown in an extra ticket if you want to take a friend.”
I stand tall and raise my head. “I’ll tell Lucian. I’ll tell him everything.”
“I would strongly advise against that. I have been kind until now, but don’t be fooled because I can be cruel.”
I spin around, my eyes narrow. “Are you threatening me?”
“You personally? No. I can hurt you and those you hold dear without lifting a finger. Your sister’s photography business will be sued for fraud, her fiancé’s construction business shut down due to health and safety. As for your beauty salon, you may want to consider relocating. It is far too close to my estate agency. I can’t have my Natasha coming in to have her nails done and you gossiping about me behind my back.”
Josh’s arm is gone and without another word he casually makes his way down the narrow flight of stairs.
“Enjoy your cruise,” are the words he leaves me with.
I stand in the darkened kitchen, which is sporadically lit up by a flash of lightning. I could swear the building shakes with the loud rumble of thunder. Tears stream down my face, and I wipe them away with my aching hands.
I have been cleaning the kitchen for the past five hours. I have been emptying out stale food from the fridge and cleaning the worktops. The lights have remained off whilst I clean because I don’t want anyone to know I am back. Amber cannot see me like this. She will only worry, which isn’t good for her, nor is it good for the baby. I have managed to get control of my OCD once, I can do it again, but not tonight. Tonight, I have used up every cleaning product I own, but it isn’t enough. If I clean then everything will be okay and nothing else bad can happen.
My skin burns as I apply more pressure to the cleaning rag. Harder and harder I scrub the worktop, trying desperately to clean a surface that’ll never be good enough.
Iwill never be good enough.
Shadows dance along the tiled wall as night turns to day, and then again when day dissolves back into night. One by one, days pass by. Days turn into weeks. I stay confined to my flat and completely shut off from the outside world. My phone remains switched off and I spend my time watching murder documentaries and cleaning. My OCD has consumed me and I don’t know who I am any more.
The weeks pass in a flash. I thought the hole in my heart would begin to repair, but that has most definitely not been the case. I refuse to let myself dwell, or lose control of the situation, so instead do what I do best when my world’s falling apart.
I wake up at six am, slide out of bed and head for the kitchen. I start my usual routine of scrubbing the sink and switching the dial around on the oven several times whilst counting in my head. I don’t know why, but I have to turn the switch an even number of times, because even makes sense.
After breakfast, I have a shower and spend an hour scrubbing the white ceramic base. Once it’s clean, I turn the tap exactly twenty-two times—on, off, on, off—before I’m able to leave the room and return to the lounge, where I will watch an hour of Netflix. Dressed in my pyjamas and a towel wrapped around my head, I make my way into the lounge but stop suddenly when I see a dark figure looming in the hallway.
Someone has broken in, or is it Josh come to kick me out? I lower my head and slowly walk back; I keep going until my hand reaches the brass handle of my bedroom door. Without making a sound I let myself in and push it to behind me.
My heart thumps in my chest as realisation kicks in. I’m alone in my flat. Nobody knows I am here. With shaky hands I grab my phone, which is face down on the nightstand, and switch it on. It takes longer than usual to load. The second my screen photo is displayed it is bombarded with update notifications and text message after text message.
