Go home

Still feeling off, you walk the rest of the way home. Thankfully you're already close.

You round the corner to your apartment block and slip in the front door. Once again, you have to concentrate hard to press the button to call the elevator after a few apparent misses. Your ears feel funny from the change in altitude as the elevator glides up to the 7th floor. You rub them as you step out and make your way down the hallway.

Your heart skips a beat when you see your front door, though. It's ajar.

The adrenaline wakes you up a bit. You reach for your phone in your pocket to call 9-1-1 but it's not there.

"Shit," you say under your breath as you pad around all your pockets. Empty. Of course the girl stole your belongings.

You inch down the hallway as quietly as possible towards your apartment, listening to find out if there's an intruder inside.

You hear rummaging and voices, but to your relief you recognise one of them. It happens to belong to the last person on earth you want to deal with in your present state, but you're grateful it isn't a thief or another mugger.

You step inside and call to your ex girlfriend, enraged. "Kathy? What are you doing here?"

No response. How could they ignore you in your own home? You step into the living room and watch. She's packing her belongings into a box. She's wearing a sweater and skinny jeans. Your sweater, in fact.

You're angrier by the second. "Are you fucking serious?"

She looks at you and says, "Can you check the hallway? I swear I heard his voice."

You're taken aback, "Heard whose voice?!" You look towards the doorway and realise she was talking to him. The very man you caught her with in your own bed stood in your home in his silly pink polo shirt and pale beige jeans and meticulously gelled brown hair.

You don't understand why the pair would act like you weren't even there in your own home.

"You?!" You yell at him. "You dare to show your face in my apartment?"

He turns away and looks down the hallway. He comes back in, relaxed, "Nope! All good."

She continues to pick things up. She puts a photo of you both into a box on the dining table.

A fire of anger and frustration is burning inside you. You don't know how to process that they have the gall to show up in your apartment to take her things without asking, and then act to your face like you don't exist.

You push the box off the table, causing everything to fall out over the floor with a loud crash. "WHAT IS GOING ON?" You yell.

Kathy screams and jumps back until she is leaning against the wall.

Her man look at her confused. "What happened?"

"I ... I don't know." She stares at the box, confused and scared. "The ... the box just jumped at me. Matt I'm scared." She reaches her arm out, beckoning for someone to take her hand.

You're standing between the two of them; instinctively you take her hand to comfort her. Her soft hand makes brief contact with yours. Your anger melts slightly as you focus on protecting her from what scared her. You feel warmth in your heart: you have a moment to realise how much you missed her touch before she screams and yanks her hand back.

She looks between her hand and Matt. "I FELT SOMETHING!"

Your anger returns as a torrent of flame. You look down at yourself, confused. Either this was an incredibly elaborate joke or they truly cannot see you.

You grab her hand again. She flails and screams to tug it out of your grip but you hold on tight.

Matt steps over, having just watched his girl panic and flail. "What is going on babe?"

"Babe?!" The sound of another man calling her 'babe' pushes you over the edge. You shove him away hard, sending him careering across the living room. You're surprised at your own strength.

You look back at her. Her free hand is trying to grasp at your wrist that's holding her but she can't seem to grab it. As you watch, her hand is somehow passing through your arm. You grab her free hand and pull them both above her head, easily pinning them against the wall with one of your hands.

She continues to scream and writhe but she can't get her wrists free from the wall.

You look down at your sweater on her cute body.

"Since we're deciding whose is whose...." You narrate your thoughts as you grip the bottom of the sweater. She writhes even more as you lift the bottom of it.

"What the fuck." You turn and watch as Matt manages to stumble back to his feet. He tries to make his way over again, haphazardly. You drop the sweater and shove him back again, this time causing him to trip over the arm of the couch and fall onto the coffee table, shattering it. He looks terrified. He looks between Kathy, your general area, and his hand covered in blood from the smashed glass. "This is fucked. This is fucked Kathy. I don't know what you've got yourself into but I'm done with this."

The angry part of you is proud to watch him back across the room, scared. It tugs your attention back to the pinned beauty at your mercy, calling after him to come back and help her from whatever has her trapped. You can't think clearly through your anger.

You remember the sweater. You pull at it and lift it off her body slowly. To your surprise, she's wearing nothing but a black bra underneath. She screams and squirms as you pull the sweater all the way over her head. She tugs at her hands to try to cover herself but you hold her in place. You forgot how lovely her breasts were. She's skinny but curvy. They jiggle in the bra as she fights for freedom.

You look over at Matt, clutching his wrist and watching speechless as his helpless girlfriend is held topless against the wall.