In Your Words

by R J Samuel

CHAPTER ONE

  Galway, Ireland

  Saturday, July 9, 2011

  Priya didn’t want to open her eyes but the air felt different. Chilly, slight scent of aftershave. Both strange as her heating normally came on and warmed her bedroom in the morning, whatever the Galway weather outside. And she certainly never wore aftershave. Whatever she was lying on also seemed different, softer.

  She opened her eyes. She was on her side so the first thing she saw was a door that she didn’t have. Her doors were oak stain-painted pine that looked like painted pine; this door actually did seem to be oak. The curvy blue and green glass handle glistened. She let her eyes wander closer, a bedside table with a large green-shaded lamp. Her phone and keys lay beside the lamp. She reached out for her phone and was suddenly aware that she was naked except for her underwear.

  She turned around quickly but there was no one in the double bed with her. The covers on the other side were not neat but right now, there was no one there. She checked the time on her phone, 5:08 a.m. It felt later, the light falling in through the skylight above the bed made it seem later but then Ireland was like that in the summer, gently lit by 5 a.m. and not switched off until 11 p.m. It didn’t help her scattered sleep patterns.

  She had left the pub last night with a woman, an interesting woman, American, intense. Actually that was all she could remember about the woman. About the rest of the night. She didn’t think she had drunk that much.

  Whatever was on the other side of the door beyond the bedroom was quiet. There was an open door on the far side of the room and it looked like it led into an en-suite bathroom. No sounds from that direction either.

  She had woken up in a few strange apartments in the last few months but never empty ones. She was always the one who left early.

  Priya felt the sudden urge to pee. She sat up and her head thumped in protest. She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The deep carpet welcomed her feet and cuddled them all the way to the door of what she had rightly assumed was the bathroom. Priya pushed the door open and rushed to the toilet. She raised her face and sighed in relief as she peed, there was a skylight here too but the Egyptian marble tiles absorbed and diffused the sunlight into soft terracotta warmth.

  She looked around the bathroom. It was neat, almost hotel-like. There was a modern version of a Victorian bathtub at the far end, teetering on its claw feet. She washed her hands in the ornately tapped sink and examined her reflection. A bit worse for wear but she usually wore the minimum of makeup when she went on a night out and the only damage was a slight smudging of the kohl she had penciled around her eyes. The advantages of a brown complexion and good skin; she grimaced at the mirror; wouldn’t last much longer at this rate.

  Priya went back into the bedroom. She looked around for her clothes and was relieved to see them draped over a stool in front of the dressing table. She dragged on her black silk trousers. Everything else she’d worn the night before was there, lacy black long-sleeved top, black sandals. Except for her jacket. With her keys and cards and money. And her ID. She grabbed her phone off the bedside table. It showed the time as 5.16 a.m.

  She felt the smooth glass heaviness of the door handle against her palm as the door opened inward soundlessly. It opened onto a large airy living room. White walls. Skylights everywhere. A wall of glass proudly displayed a view of the Atlantic Ocean. The dawn red glinted over the flat sea calm. There were closed doors on the other side of the living room. The chrome and wood galley kitchen was visible.

  Her jacket lay purple across the arm of a cream leather couch. Purple leather. Summer in Galway, unpredictable and a nightmare for wardrobe choices. She was certainly not going to be fading into the background.

  She was parched, the lining of her throat felt like she had been sanding it for hours. She walked towards the kitchen and noticed one of the closed doors on the other side of the room was actually open a few inches. She found a glass and gulped down the cold tap water, washing the glass after in the empty kitchen sink and putting it back where she’d found it.

  The silence in the apartment was tiptoeing into the folds of her clothes. She wanted to get out of here. But as she passed the open door to what she presumed was another bedroom she found herself drawn to it. And she was curious. The apartment seemed to give off a male energy. The vague scent of antiseptic cleaners mixed with the strands of aftershave and something else, something that reminded her of open drains on a wet day.

  The bottom of the door stroked the carpet as she nudged it open and peered in. There was a skylight here too and the brightening dawn creeping in fought against the dark room but she didn’t need to switch on the lights to see. The body was dead. It was male and pale. He was sitting on the floor facing her, his eyes open and still, his hairless torso propped up against the bed. Priya screamed. Or thought she did, no sound came out. His mouth was open and she tried to scream again, still no success. Priya knew him. Knew enough of him to feel the shock of difference between her energy-filled charismatic boss and this slack-jawed empty shell of skin.

  ∞

  The apartment was still. The only sound was her breath struggling against the bile rising in her throat. Priya took a step back, away from the room.

  Her body made the decision. She turned and ran.

  She prayed for the streets to be deserted as she grabbed her jacket and raced for the front door. She grasped at the handle. It was locked. Sobbing, she pulled at it helplessly until she discovered it was easily released by the knob below the handle.

  The hallway outside was deserted. Priya slipped out of the door. The elevator was directly in front of her. She pressed the Down button. What was she doing? She could hear the lift ascending and polished the button frantically with her jacket, then with her sleeve. She realized she was moaning softly as she did this. The door to the stairwell was only a few yards down the hallway. Making up her mind, she turned and ran to it, grateful for the carpet in the hall dampening the sound of her shoes. The door swished open and she pushed through. It fell back into place and she rested the back of her head against it, catching her breath, listening.

  The stairwell was dark, illuminated only by the greenish yellow glow of fire exit signs. No carpet here, just painted concrete, dully reflecting the dim light. Not meant for anything except for emergencies. Well this was an emergency. Why hadn’t she called the ambulance then, or the police? Ambulance wouldn’t have done Daniel any good. And the police, she didn’t want to think about why.

  The sound of the lift opening. Then she heard a voice. Whispered, muffled.