Page 52 of The Man Upstairs

“Farewell, you pitiful cunt,” I said, my adrenaline pulsing as he climbed to his feet and scrambled away.

He didn’t look back, and that merely confirmed it. I’d succeeded. My dark soul had slammed against the cold ice of hell, and I’d fulfilled the remains of a purpose. I’d negated the threat of the man who’d chewed up the faith of the sweet little angel upstairs.

I smiled at the morning as I lit up a cigarette outside, with my knife buried inside my suit jacket. It was the first sliver of pride I’d felt in years.

Chapter Thirteen

Rosie

I awokewith a start to find Julian wasn’t lying in bed next to me. I put on my glasses and grabbed my phone to check the time. It was still early enough to see him before college. I was still in his shirt, smiling a happy grin as I found him leaning against the kitchen counter with a bowl of muesli. He was already dressed. Suited. Not a surprise, but… his hair was more styled this morning. His tie was knotted perfectly.

He looked gorgeous.

“Hey,” I said, feeling weirdly nervous.

“Hello,” he replied, and his smile put me at ease. He put his bowl down and went to the fridge. “What would you like for breakfast? I have bacon, eggs… how about another fry up? I have to leave soon, but I can get you started. Let’s get you an orange juice, too. How about that?” He paused with another smile. Looking me up and down. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful lying there.”

“I wasn’t snoring, then?”

“Ha, no. No. Although you’d still look cute as a snoring angel. Anyway, breakfast. What would you like?”

He was so attentive that it took me aback. I still wasn’t used to someone taking care of me.

I wasn’t actually feeling all that hungry. My stomach had flutters just looking at him.

“I’d love some of your muesli, please.”

“Are you sure? No fry up?”

“I’m sure,” I said. “Muesli is great.”

“Right,” he said. “Muesli it is.”

His bowl was still half full as he busied himself getting me mine. I watched him in fascination, enjoying the spring in his step. He seemed so different this morning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing me a bowl and a glass of juice.

“Thanks.”

“You look very fresh considering you only had a few hours of sleep,” he said.

“Yeah, I feel pretty rested.”

It was true. I did. Even though I should have been bleary-eyed and exhausted, I felt excited enough that I could have danced around the room. Already, I was close enough to Julian to want to stay here a lifetime. The memory of Scottie’s bullshit downstairs felt like it was buried in a pit, far away.

“I have to be off to work,” he said. “Please feel free to make yourself at home, of course. Take your time.”

“Thanks,” I said again, realising it was becoming a bit of a mantra. I was thanking him for so much it was getting unreal.

“You’re very welcome,” he said and rinsed his bowl in the sink.

He must have been way more tired than I was, but he wasn’t showing it.

I wished there was no work for him today, and no college for me. I wanted to curl up with him, and talk with him, and explore his body as he explored mine. There was so much I still needed to know. So many questions…

I wondered where exactly he worked, and who he worked with. I wondered what he was like in the office, and whether people thought he was as amazing as I did. I wondered what he did for true fun, and not this excuse for a life he’d plunged himself into in shame. He used to be an English professor, I knew, but not much else. Not really. Why did he become one? Did he like reading, like I did? What did he read? I knew he liked writing. So, what did he write? When? Why? How? I didn’t really know a thing.

He dried his bowl and put it back in the cupboard. “I’d best be going now.”