Glitch (The Write Awards 2013 Winner)

Glitch - Chapter 11

The three brisk knocks at the door had taken nearly five minutes of coaxing to transform from empty intentions to actual movement. She languished in the silence left by the last thud. The worst bit was the waiting as a reel of worst case scenarios dashed forward to pass the time. And all the while she suffered with a rush of embarrassment. She had thrown a clock at his head.

A clock. At his head.

Is this what she had become? A subtle imitation of a barbarian. A hysterical fool lacking the emotional integrity to cope with stress without resorting to hurling objects around like a toddler. Freya was in desperate need of help; that much was clear. It was the only thing that prevented her fleeing from the scene.

He opened the door without greeting. That is unless the silent expectation for a hidden reserve of maturity counted as one. Freya swallowed down the last fleeting trace of her pride and began the process of rebuilding bridges.

“Can I come in…?” Each word scuttled out in breathy trepidation while Freya avoided direct eye contact. Behind her back she scrunched together her hands and buried her nails into the skin. A malicious blend of shame, uncertainty and fear bubbled within her causing her stomach to writhe with discomfort. She needed him to be civil. But the possession of mercy was entirely in his control and therefore, outside of hoping, the power did not belong to her.

He opened the door to let her through. For now he was playing fair and so Freya pressed herself between the space he allowed. Struggling to pluck the right words from a nonexistent catalogue, she meandered to the window to pass the time. Without knowledge of the layout of Satis it would be impossible to tell that Mat’s roomed faced in an opposite direction to Freya’s. The scenery was unchanged; just hues of green against the outstretch of grey. Forest beneath sky and nothing more. With nothing to draw inspiration from she began to spout a babble of inconsequential fillers.

“I… erm… the thing is…”

“I don’t need an apology from you. That’s not really going to help the situation, is it?” When she turned to face him, his body language possessed no sign of the comfort in his words. Mat had his armed crossed as he slumped against a cabinet of drawers. He watched her with almost parental disappointment while she sheepishly crossed the room to be closer.

“Thanks.” She rested a hand on his arm. It was an act to portray the gratitude a single word seemed to lack. His eyes fell to the gesture in scrutiny, before accepting the motion and taking the hand into his own. With a light tug he drew her into an embrace.

“I’m not trying to make things difficult for you.” She could feel the motion of his jaw as he spoke from where it rested above her head. They were close enough that he would be able to feel the rush of breath from her reply upon his skin. The small intimacies seemed to persuade the truth from her.

“And I’m not trying to be difficult…” The rustle of his exhaled chuckle swept through her hair and brought a smile of her own to Freya’s lips. “…not intentionally anyway,” she added.

“I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

They stood for a few moments comfortably entangled in the embrace. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Mat was meant to be a cheap thrill, a quick fix. But as she listened to the soft thud of his heart echoing in her ears it was impossible to deny the opposite. Some veiled voice seemed to whisper in moments like these. She tried to focus her mind on other things. But the seeds had been sown. It rang with the familiarity of something that should have been a comfort. But the unknown and the jumbled, unorganised building of houses of cards was the last thing she needed. To bring her away from the thoughts plaguing her mind with worry she spoke again.