Stuart James - Apartment 6

‘There we go. So, how have you been, lovely?’ Sarah glowed. She looked genuinely content, fit, healthy. It was as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Meagan suddenly felt envious and then guilty for thinking this way. ‘Oh, I’ve been good, keeping busy, you know. You look simply lush, my love,’ Meagan stated.

They laughed, and Meagan was happy for a brief second.

Sarah took a sip of her coffee, glanced at her friend, watching her tremble, her lip quivering. Meagan struggled to hold the cup still.

‘Are you sure you’re okay, Megs? Something’s troubling you, I can see it. Talk to me; I’m your oldest friend, after all. You know whatever is said is between you and me, lovely.’

Meagan broke down, sobbing at the table, unable to control herself.

Sarah jumped up, moving round the table and crouching by her friend. ‘Hey, what is it, Meagan babe, what’s up?’ She removed a small box of tissues from her handbag, passing them to Meagan and watched as she dabbed her eyes.

After a minute, Meagan regained her composure. ‘Everything is up; I can’t cope, I swore I’d never be the fucking victim and look at me, a shell of the woman I once was.’

‘Is it about your father? Look, Meagan, I understand you feeling like this, I do, call it a fixation, uncertainty, doubt if you like, but he’s gone. The horrible things he did all those years ago, you watching him killing your mother, terrified he’d get you and do the same to you, I get it, lovely. But he’s dead; he can’t hurt you anymore.’

Sarah was right. Her father had died in prison a couple of years ago. Meagan couldn’t even attend the funeral. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night of the incident.

Sarah placed a hand on Meagan’s arm, consoling her friend.

Meagan wanted so badly to talk; it wasn’t just her father, Rob was going to kill her, she knew it.

Sarah took a sip of her coffee. ‘How’re things with you and Rob?’

Meagan stumbled across her words, struggling to find the correct way to describe her husband. ‘He’s still the same. Arrogant, selfish and the second biggest arsehole I’ve ever met. My father being the first.’

Meagan saw the pity in Sarah’s eyes, how her face dropped. ‘Meagan, I’m so sorry. You need to get out before something happens. I’ve told you, come and stay with me. I can help. All you have to do is ask. You know that, right?’

Meagan was distracted, staring across the empty tables. ‘I’ve met someone.’

‘You’ve what?’ Sarah placed her coffee in front of her, tapping the rim of the cup with her finger.

‘His name is Oliver. We met a few times on the way to work.’

Sarah held her shocked expression for a moment. ‘Oh, Meagan. Are you sure that’s a good idea in light of your situation?’

‘I like him, Sarah. He’s a gent. He talks to me, takes interest and he’s bloody fit too.’

‘Okay. You need to be careful though. I don’t need to explain what will happen if Rob finds out.’

Meagan wanted so badly to tell Sarah everything, but she had to leave as quickly as she’d arrived, otherwise, her husband would let loose. Meagan had to do something. She knew only too well her life had to change.

On the short walk back to Albuquerque House, Meagan thought about Sarah; they’d been friends since childhood, living across the road from one another, inseparable.

She reached the shabby apartment block, fished the keys from her purse and opened the front door. The post had arrived. It was lying on a small table to the left of the dreary communal hall. Meagan walked past. The lift had been out of service for weeks with no sign of getting repaired. The walls had started to peel and were looking worn. Graffiti tags were scribbled on the white ceilings.

Meagan went up to the second floor, passing a family struggling with a pushchair.

The apartment she shared with Rob was at the top of the stairs, the first on the left. She stood in front of the door looking down at the word welcome written on the doormat as she placed the key in the lock and gently turned it.

In the downstairs hall of her apartment, she removed her jacket and hung it on the coat stand, then took off her boots and placed them on the shelf under the stairs, lining them up and making sure to close the cupboard door.

She listened. The apartment was quiet. To any visitor arriving, it would seem peaceful, a tranquil home, calm and serene. Meagan stared down the hall; nothing out of place, she was sure.

She reached the bottom step, creeping up the stairs, avoiding the third step from the top. How she’d love to get into her bed, rest, maybe buy a book for herself and read; or blast the radio, open the windows and dance.

She reached the bedroom, pausing. Her heart pounded. A feeling of complete dread rose from the pit of her stomach. Her husband was out of bed.

Meagan stepped backwards, struggling to function. Her head was clouded, spinning like a Ferris wheel. The bedroom door slammed shut, causing Meagan to jump.

Rob had been standing behind it and was now next to her. ‘Where were you?’

‘I-I needed to go out. I didn’t feel well.’

Rob crossed the bedroom floor, running his hand through his long black hair, his fists clenched.

Meagan went to the bed, pulling the duvet straight. ‘Did you eat your toast?’

‘I thought I made myself very clear.’

Meagan looked to the side, out the window, anywhere to avoid her husband’s gaze. ‘You did, Rob. How are you feeling? Did you sleep enough?’ She desperately tried to change the conversation and distract her husband.

‘Where did you go, Meagan?’

‘I went out to get air, that’s it. I felt dizzy and needed to clear my head, so I sat outside on the step for ages. I’m not sure what it was, but I’m okay now.’

Meagan searched her husband’s face for a reaction, gauging his mood and waiting to see what he did next.

A loud beep came from her handbag.

‘Pass me the phone,’ Rob demanded.

‘Rob, come on.’

‘I said, pass me the phone.’

Meagan fought back the tears. She wanted to collapse with the anxiety she was feeling, longing to run down the stairs and never come back. She reached into her bag and handed the phone over, struggling to compose herself, her heart throbbing with fear.

Rob read the message from Sarah aloud, a wry smirk on his face. ‘It was great catching up this morning. Stop worrying so much, speak soon, luv ya chick.’ He looked across at his wife.

Meagan tried to talk; but her tongue had jammed and was stuck to the roof of her mouth.

‘So talk to me, Meagan, because I’m really not getting this. I’m trying to understand what you told me when I specifically said that you were not going out. Do you still struggle to follow simple instructions?’ He came closer, watching the fear in her eyes, her reaction. ‘Do you want to explain it to me, Meagan, huh?’

‘I–?’

Rob threw the phone to the floor, stamping on it and cracking the screen. ‘Shut the fuck up a second; I’m talking. Tell me where you went!’

His wife was silent; she’d given up, it was pointless trying to explain.

Rob grabbed Meagan behind her neck and rammed her head into the bedroom wall.

Oliver Simmonds shared an apartment in Chelsea with his long-term girlfriend who’d recently decided she wanted more.

‘It’s not you, Oliver; it’s me. You’re the kindest, most generous person I’ve ever met, and you deserve better.’ She wanted to remain friends, stay in touch, call over, share the occasional glass of wine. Why the hell would he want that? Claire had packed her belongings, kissed Oliver’s forehead and left, just like that.

For the rest of the day, he never left his bed. He was numb, completely distraught and unable to function.