I still have no Beta-Reader, so if you spot any errors please do tell me in a review and I'll sort it asap. Thanks for pointing out my small errors in the last chapter!
Emily put her brimming glass on the food stained counter and knelt down to open the fridge. She promptly reeled back on to her heels. The stench was almost overwhelming. She stood, the fridge still open, and kicked the kitchen door closed to contain the foul smell or rotting food. She cleared the windowsill to let the air circulate better and filled the kettle, switching it on with a flick of her finger. As she waited for the kettle to boil she delved under the sink, removing an old discoloured basin and half empty containers of cleaning products from the dusty base. The kettle was still slowly heating the water so Emily put her left hand over her mouth and nose and pulled item in various stages of decay from the fridge with her right, dumping them in a carrier bag. How she hadn't realised the smell this morning was beyond her.
When the fridge was empty Emily drank the full glass of cider. To steady my heaving stomach, she told her self. Then she set to work with the cleaning products, spraying and scrubbing. It was hard work and a sticky sweat started to creep over her skin, and when the petite red head sat back and saw that the fridge was still grimy and stained her eyes started to fill with tears. She stood up and filled the basin with the now boiled water from the kettle and sat the it on the bottom shelf of the fridge, closing the door at last. She sighed and ran her red hand through her hair, finding it slightly greasy. She pulled her phone from her pocket and saw that she still had ten minutes before she would have to leave to get her laundry. And she had no where to put her clean clothes while they dried.
With a frustrated growl Emily stood and stomped into the bathroom, almost walking into the sink in front of her. She grabbed armfuls of clothes and towels and threw them into the main room, her body shaking with frustration. She couldn't do anything right, she'd never been able to do anything right. Even with Naomi she'd managed to thoroughly fuck things up. When all that was left on the floor was a few odd socks, bare toilet roll tubes and empty shampoo bottles she climbed up onto the side of the small bath, and swaying precariously in her inebriated state unhooked the shower curtain. There, she thought, that'll do.
Emily walked out of the bathroom and picked up the open cider bottle, draining the remainder of the warm, fizzy liquid in five greedily guzzles, drips escaping from the corner of her mouth to be caught by her fingers and tongue once she put the bottle down. She grabbed a new bin liner and balled it into her pocket, making sure that she had her keys and phone once more before leaving the flat, a cigarette already lit in her mouth, a second stuck behind her right ear for the return journey. She stomped down the stairs again, pushed past the entrance door again, and stumbled down the hill. Her steps were clumsy and she swayed slightly, back and forth, with each step.
Lost in her own tipsy world, bringing the cigarette back to her mouth after each deep draw and exhale, Emily almost walked straight onto the road. The roar of a bus passing on the other side brought her back to the present and she sucked quickly at the stub of the cigarette, not wanting to waste any of the precious lungfuls of smoke. When it was so low it burnt her fingers, she dropped the end and ground it into the grey path with her heel, almost falling and the world suddenly spun with the rush of nicotine in her system. In the laundrette she quickly filled the black plastic sack with her damp clothes and tied it, flinging it over her shoulder and feeling like a nineteenth century maid. She was in the pale yellow interior for less than five minutes before she stepped back outside and plucked the menthol cigarette from behind her ear. She fished in her pockets for her lighter.
"Shit! Oh for fuck's sake." She spoke out loud in frustration and anger, the cigarette still between her lips and slightly muffling her words, as she realised she had left it on the coffee table.
"Can I help?" A masculine hand was in front of her, offering a glowing yellow flame.
Do you know how depressing it is to have to many +Alerts and so many thousands of hits but so few reviews? :( I'm losing faith in my writing skills, it took me so much longer to write this one, even though it's so short.