Disclaimer: I don't own Skins, or Rear Window. Maybe when I'm rich.
Author's note: Hey guys! First of all I want to thank you for all the lovely reviews. You've all been very kind so cheers! This update is half filler half actual plot to get the ball rolling. I've finally got every plot point sorted in my mind now. Unfortunately I'm going to be on a week long film shoot starting Thursday. It's going to be very long hours but I'll try and update as much as possible. It might mean short chapters or infrequent updates. Not sure yet but hopefully I'll be able to get some updates out. This chapter will answer one particular question. Hope you enjoy...
I waited. And I waited. But that glimpse of red never came. It's well past midnight now and the chances of me finding what I'm seeking are getting shorter and shorter. Most of the lights in the flats opposite are extinguished now, most people being in their beds. A faint glow of a cigarette flares over where I saw the sandy haired man earlier this evening and for one fleeting moment I see his eyes, illuminated, just as vacant as before.
I close my own eyes as tiredness begins to take over. They worked hard this evening. Even on a quiet Sunday night you'll find there's more going on than meets the eye if you look hard enough. But tonight, I only had eyes for a redhead, and the redhead didn't show. I practically peel myself from the chair and make a beeline for the kitchen, my legs just and so getting me there without any mishaps on their part. I lean on the counter top, relaxing my neck and letting my head drop a little, trying to shake the cobwebs. I roll my shoulders a few times, feeling a few satisfying clicks, and then head to browse through the many boxes that cover most of the kitchen surfaces. Wine glass, wine glass, ooh, wine glass. My mother had the sense to bring the biscuits which was genius in itself, but I had the sense to bring wine.
Often when trying to sleep I find my head is so filled with thoughts flying here and which ways I struggle to sleep. The people watching distracts from that, occupies me, but with Emily's no show tonight my mind is restless. A glass of red wine before bed just helps me find sleep that little bit easier. I'm not a drunk, just a realist. I rinse my glass to get rid of any cardboardy dust and grime and then pour myself a descent amount. I raise it in Effy's general direction, sleeping beauty in the room adjoined to this one.
'To us...' I say into the darkness. It might not seem much but Effy and I have come a long way together. To have her still here with me means something. I grin.
'And to redheads everywhere. All teases, the lot of you.' I take a sip of wine and cringe at the bitterness. Okay, I'll try and be less of a cheap skate next time. I shuffle to my room, taking one last glimpse out of the window in hopes of seeing something... anything. No luck. I sigh a little and carry on down the hall, past Eff's room and arrive at my door, opening it with my spare hand. Once inside I put my wine down and change for bed. When I say change, I mean remove my clothes. I retrieve my wine, finishing it off with a quick swig and practically fall into bed.
For the second time tonight I wait. I wait for sleep to come but it doesn't. I look over at my empty glass of wine, moonlight shining through the dregs at the bottom, casting a red haze across the surface of my bedside table. I close my eyes to escape the red but red's still all I can see. Opening my eyes once more, I glare determinedly at the ceiling this time.
With most people I watch, I'm happy to be on the outside looking in. I'm happy to see the little piece of people's lives that maybe others don't see and take my own meaning from them. Take little clues and piece them together over time. Days, weeks, months maybe. But with Emily, I want to know everything. Now. Why can't I wait? And why can't I sleep?
Usually I'll see someone from a distance at first. Watch them, whether it be in class or at the supermarket, and then decide after I've seen the part of them that they don't show people whether it's worth me seeing the part of them that they do show people. But from our first meeting I got the distinct impression that what I saw today; the flirty, cheeky side of Emily, was the side that most people don't see and was in fact a side that maybe, just maybe, was only for me.
I wake with a growling in my stomach. A slither of sunlight falling across my bed. I check my watch, the only article left on my body. Shit, it's already 11am. I scrunch up my eyes again, a throaty moan escapes me, I'm obviously displeased. My stomach grumbles again. Who is this person in my tummy? Deciding to appease this incessant creature, I roll out of bed, lazily pillaging my suitcase for a long t-shirt and a pair of colourful boxers. I clamber into them on my way to the kitchen. Momentarily catching my feet in the shorts, I stumble for a second before regaining my balance, but perhaps not my dignity as I hear a small chuckle from my left.
I look across to find Effy, nose in book, eyes just and so visible over the top, lounging on the sofa.
'Smooth,' she says, eyes fixed on the text, one brow raised in judgement.
'Fuck you Stonem. It's not like it's anything you haven't seen before'.
'What? You starkers? Or is it your embarrassing lack of co-ordination? How about your inability to get out of bed before the sun's at it's highest in the sky?'
I'm slightly taken aback by Effy's unusual outburst. I blink a few times. She lowers her book and smirks. 'Or is it all of the above?' she asks sweetly.
'Ha ha, funny. No cake for you,' I call as a move through to the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge which holds the only food in the house, Emily's cake. I swing the fridge door open.
'Too late!' Effy calls from the lounge. I can hear the triumph in her voice. I look down in despair. Emily's cake, made by Emily, for me, well for us, but given to me, had been unceremoniously desecrated. 'Maybe if you'd dragged yourself out of bed earlier I wouldn't have beaten you to the punch!'
A 'Bitch!' escapes me. I can hear her laughing quietly to herself again. She knows how to push my buttons, how to get a reaction out of me. I huff and puff, cut myself a slice of cake, and put it back in the fridge. Stomping back through to the lounge I throw myself into my chair, looking out of the window for the first time today. No signs of her, or anyone in fact. The only evidence of human life is the faint hum of traffic in the background and an array of new additions to the litter scattered on the ground around the litter bin, rather than inside inside the litter bin.
Effy touches her toes to my knees, curling them ever so slightly and gently pinching the skin underneath, catching my attention. 'I think you're in trouble Naomi,' she says slowly, wearily. I look at her in confusion. She's come over serious all of a sudden.
'What?' I wince as I realise I've been caught in the act already. She saw me looking.
Effy's eyes darken. A devilish smile slowly creeps onto her lips and I can feel a heat start to rise in the cheeks.
'You don't like fruit cake Nai.' I look down to my plate. Shit.
So here I am. In Asda, starving and coffeed to the max, surrounded by food. The man in my tummy is grumbling again, something about me being a dirty tease. Or is it about Emily being a dirty tease? What am I going to say when I see her again, when she asks me if I enjoyed the cake she painstakingly made?
'Just lie,' Effy had said. Typical Effy response. Lying is something I'm good at. Until a few years ago lying to myself was all I'd ever do. No I didn't just look at that girl's bum, yes I do find giving head a pleasurable experience, things like that. But the idea of having to look into those endless eyes and lie. That's something I'm not sure I can do.
The shopping takes longer than I expected as I'm under strict instructions to pick up all the things we'll need to function as a household. Cleaning products, toilet roll, kitchen foil, air fresheners, as well as all the groceries I'll need to satisfy the gaping hole where my stomach should be. A few times I thought I saw a flash of red out of the corner of my eye. One time I did, but it was just a share bag of maltesers. Though still something I could get excited about. In my trolley they went.
I drag the shopping home, most of it I have in my old lady trolley bag Kieran gifted me as we parted ways and the rest in reusable 'green bags', made out of 5% recycled material. Wow, effort. I think reducing your daily intake of baked beans would go further to saving the planet than using these particular bags. I bang on the door with my forehead, all hands occupied. 'Effy! Hey Eff! It's me, let me in!' No response. 'Effy?' I plead. Nothing. I moan as I dump the shopping outside the door and and raid my pockets for my front door key. I get the door open and drag all the shopping across the threshold. Finally, hands freed, I grab the chicken a bacon sandwich I strategically placed on top of my trolley bag thing, push the door closed with my hip and start munching. God that tastes good.
'Effy?' I call, her name muffled by a mouthful of food. 'Oi bitch, I could have used some help!' The flat was still. 'Hey crazy lady, where'd you go?' I say, trying to antagonise her out of whatever hole she's crawled into. Still no reply.
I stick my head into the kitchen and spot a scrap of torn paper on the breakfast bar. Gone out. 'Wow, specific'. I sigh. Typical, now I'm going to have to unpack all by myself.
I traipse back through to the lounge, shoving the other half of the sandwich greedily into my mouth. I stand, chewing, hands on my hips and stare hopelessly at the shopping. What a mission. I look to the window in hope of finding something to distract me from the task at hand. Nothing, nada, no one. Damn. I turn back towards the shopping, wait... what the fuck? My head snaps almost painfully back to the window.
'What the fuck!' I fly to the window, fingers gripping the ledge, knuckles already white. A flash of red streaks past a window a few floors up from mine across the yard. Red hair, strong hands in red hair. Pulling. Clawing. Dragging.
'What the fuck?' I whisper this time, in disbelief, panic rising. I see her tiny frame struggling against a much larger figure. Hands where unfamiliar hands shouldn't be, tearing at clothes and hair. Her face contorted in a silent scream, her dark eyes petrified.
Naomi think. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 along... is that one flat or two? Fuck! 2 floors above me, that I'm sure of.
Before I can even think about what I'm doing my feet are hammering down the corridor towards the first bend of the horseshoe shaped building. My heart is hammering out of my chest. Why would someone be trying to hurt Emily? Sweet Emily. Emily who bakes cakes for strangers and blushes when you hold her hand for too long.
Second corner.
And why the fuck am I pelting down this corridor in an attempt to save a girl that I hardly know from an unknown assailant twice her size?
I reach the stairs and take them two at a time, my legs now screaming at me.
If I call the police, they'll never get here in time to save whatever horrible shit is going down in there. Even if I can just spook him, maybe that'll enough.
This is the floor, I know it.
Or maybe I'm putting myself in harms way. But all of a sudden in my adrenaline fuelled state, Emily seems worth all that. Completely and absolutely worth it.
I screech to a hault. Flat 5D. This is it. I strain in an attempt to hear noises coming from inside the flat but I can't hear anything over my own laboured breathing. I take a moment to ready myself and then reach for the door. It's ajar, but the lock isn't broken, no sign of forced entry. I push the door a little further and step inside the flat. Emily's flat. These certainly aren't the circumstances I imagined my first visit here to be under. Not that I've imagined that.
I see nothing, no sign of struggle, no Emily, no faceless assailant. I'll say it again. 'What the fuck?'. I step a little further into the lounge, cautiously looking around, heart racing. Glancing through to the kitchen and down the corridor which holds the bedrooms and bathroom, identical to mine and Effy's. Deserted.
The hairs stick up on the back of my neck, I hear heavy, fast moving footsteps. Another flash of red. I whip around, catching sight of a large figure exiting the flat with speed. My feet move to chase him, back out of the flat. I look to my right then left. He's on the stairs going back down the way I came, a red mop of hair hanging over his shoulder.
'Emily!' the desperation in my voice surprises me. The mop of hair still hangs loosely, she can't hear me. She's unconscious. Please say she's only unconscious.
I reach the stairs and begin to bound down them. Three, four steps at a time. I can't let him take her. What the fuck kind of human being would I be? Last flight of stairs now. I might catch him on the flat, where my long legs come into play. I might just...
My foot catches and I fall.
I almost make it to the bottom before he does, a crumpled mess of limbs. My head snaps back and hits the floor hard. A white pain errupting behind my eyes, filling my sense, shooting through every nerve in my body. And as my vision begins to fail me and my head becomes groggy, all I can do is watch as Emily's hair, moving further and further away, catches in the breeze.
Authors note: Hope you liked it. I'll try not to leave it on a cliff hanger for too long. But come on, it's Naomi, she's tough! Please review, I'd be very grateful :-) - Alex.
