We Who Are Jaded

Chapter Ten

A chilling breeze captured my face and coaxed me awake. My brow creased in frustration but I was still compelled by curiosity to completely awaken. Normally, while moonlight still cloaked my room in balmy light I wouldn't have been so quick to want out of bed but the only way to stop myself from freezing to death was to close the damn window.

Were you born in a barn, Evans?

I begrudgingly blinked myself into alertness and then, brushing the sleep from my eyes, propped myself up so I was able to glare at the insolent window in question. How dare it gape back at me so?

It didn't dare, you closed it.

I remembered that as the sun had set I had wrestled the window pane down, the proof of my struggle in the vague aching in my arms. Moreover, upon further contemplation I recalled drawing the curtains to eclipse the blood red sky that had begun in rendering day to night.

Did you forget to lock it, foolish girl?

I licked my lips. I didn't remember locking the window. Was I really so careless after being so vulnerable to the clutches of Devon?

My eyes followed the steady breath of the breeze in the curtains. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

Perhaps someone was here.

Tensed, I inspected my room, trying to make sense of the situation. It had occurred to me that Mum may have barged in and opened it to spite me, though I really did question if she could be that cruel. I snorted in answer to my own question but didn't let it bring my guard down.

Finding no evidence of a trespasser I sighed, glancing at the window. In fairness, I had a vivid enough imagination to concoct some image of me shutting the window. After all, I had not been taken, nothing appeared to have been stolen and there was an undisturbed stillness that would have given away anyone who might have been hiding nearby.

Somewhat appeased, I shimmed myself onto the edge of the bed, chucking my covers to the side as I did so. Sometimes I would have liked my common sense to have at least attempted to report for duty but alas, on this occasion, it had me left high and dry and stupidly cold to boot. 

Finally, once my face had been nipped enough by the chill, I got up and shuffled over to the open window. I leant my elbows on the sill and gazed out at the starlit sky. For a summer night it was cool but the skies were clear and bright with starlit. I couldn't name any of the constellations by sight but could have recited a few by name alone. 

Fractured memories my childhood came together to reply scenes of my eight year old self sitting in secret outside of Jackson's bedroom door as Ross told tales of far of galaxies. Though it was my wicked step father conjuring the tales of Orion and Cassiopeia, how I had longed to have joined them. Pride and stubbornness had robbed me of many things and Ross' fantastical bedtime stories was one of them. 

"I'd better go to bed," I said to the stars. They twinkled as if pleading me to stay until they themselves retired to allow the sun rise to rise. I turned my face guiltily away to look down on the fire exit outside my window. The paint on the rails, like all the wallpaper in my flat, was peeling. I tutted and gave one final look at the night stars. "At least I can't fault the view."  I smiled weakly and silenced my own laughter, I was officially going mad. 

I stretched up and grabbed the window pane. With a great mustering of strength I managed to pull the window shut. Surely, I would have heard the grunts of a struggler trying to force it open in the first place. 

"You're a danger to yourself, Evans," I muttered.

Suddenly a clatter came from behind me. I froze.