Hold My Hand
“Sees herself wobbling on the chair, curtain beginning to slip. How funny, she thinks, calmly, observing herself. My ears are cold. Like someone's rubbed them with ice.
And then a rushing sensation, and she's back in her own nervous system. And the cold has become burning heat and then cold again, and then with another rush she's boiling. Can feel just how cold the winter night is, coming off the window. Swallows. Blinks to clear her eyes, hopes that what she's seeing is an illusion.
The light i...s still there, in the first-floor window opposite the one where she stands, in the blue room. Filtering, warm and gold – Tom Gordhavo insists on yellow-tinted light bulbs for atmosphere – round the drawn curtain.
I locked the doors. I locked them and there's someone in the house.
The strength deserts her thighs and her knees give way. She has to grab at the window latch to stop herself tumbling to the ground. Yaws like a sailor in stormy seas, leans her shoulder against the panes.
The light is still there.MoreLess
And then a rushing sensation, and she's back in her own nervous system. And the cold has become burning heat and then cold again, and then with another rush she's boiling. Can feel just how cold the winter night is, coming off the window. Swallows. Blinks to clear her eyes, hopes that what she's seeing is an illusion.
The light i...s still there, in the first-floor window opposite the one where she stands, in the blue room. Filtering, warm and gold – Tom Gordhavo insists on yellow-tinted light bulbs for atmosphere – round the drawn curtain.
I locked the doors. I locked them and there's someone in the house.
The strength deserts her thighs and her knees give way. She has to grab at the window latch to stop herself tumbling to the ground. Yaws like a sailor in stormy seas, leans her shoulder against the panes.
The light is still there.MoreLess
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