The Flat
by Steve Calvert

 

Suze burst through the door, ran out into the street, and gulped in deep breaths of the cold, morning air.

It was her fault, she told herself, all her fault.

Tears welled up, hot in her eyes, and ran down her cheeks. Fishing inside her bag, she found her keys and ran to the car. But her hand was trembling so badly that she found it difficult to get the key into the lock. Eventually, using the fingers of her left hand as a guide, she managed to slide in the key and open the door. Dropping into the driver’s seat, she rested her head on the steering wheel and cried.

All her fault.

Beating herself up over things wasn’t Suze's style, but she was the one who had made that… mistake… with Simon… and if it was not for that she knew that Roger would never have insisted on leaving Bradford. Things had been good in Bradford; they’d both had good jobs and a nice house. A nice life together. One mistake had spoiled it.

Newcastle was supposed to be a fresh start for both of them; she had not known at the time that it was also a chance for her to make fresh mistakes. She hadn't wanted to hurt Roger again, hadn't planned it. Sometimes things in life just happen. And sometimes those things have consequences.

#

She hated the flat the first moment she saw it. Not just because it was poky—which it was—and not because it needed decorating—which it did. It was the atmosphere of it that got to her. It just felt bad somehow. Oppressive. Uncomfortable. But what could she do? Lose Roger?

#

Tears flooded down Suze's face, wetting the steering wheel and dripping onto her jeans. Lifting her head for a moment, she ran the back of her sleeve across her eyes. A young couple walking past glanced into the car and looked away. She returned her head to the wheel. Started shaking.

#

Roger never noticed anything strange about the flat, but Roger didn't have to spend hours alone there. Day after day, week after week. Being an engineer, he found work almost immediately. He was always at work. For Suze things were not so easy. She had neither Roger's skills nor his qualifications and she found nothing but disappointment.

Jobless, she spent most of her time alone in the flat with nothing but that bad feeling for company. Then one day it was more than just a feeling, and she actually saw it for the first time. Hanging there, in the bedroom closet, its feet dangling—a body, swaying.

She opened her mouth to scream. But then it was gone—just like that—gone. As if it had never even been there in the first place. She tried to convince herself that it hadn’t. After a day or two she even began to believe it.

Until she saw it again.

And again.

The appearances became a regular thing, but she never spoke to Roger about it. How could she? He'd think she was mad.

 

 

#

Maybe telling Roger is exactly what she should have done. It was too late now.

Lifting her head from the steering wheel, Suze stretched back in her seat. She could see her reflection in the driver's mirror. She looked dreadful: all puffy eyes and running mascara. She looked away, through the windscreen, towards the flat. A cold shiver embraced her. She looked away.

#

Suze started to go out more. At first libraries and museums were her thing, and the park, if the weather was fine. Shopping became a full morning’s work. Longer if she could spin it out. But all too soon she sought comfort in the local bars. It became a habit. Why not? Money was never a problem, Roger saw to that, and the alternative option—staying in the flat—wasn’t an option at all. She was too scared.

Then Pete came along.

At first he was just someone to share a drink and a chat with. But it soon became more than that. Sometimes she barely managed to get home and showered before Roger got in from work—tired and hungry and wondering what was for lunch.

Her relationship with Roger began to deteriorate. Quarrels became frequent, and though she spent less time at the flat than ever, the appearances of the hanging apparition became more frequent. Even when she was in another room and couldn’t see it, she could feel it.

It wasn’t a good feeling and her thoughts would turn to Pete. She always felt safe with Pete.

#

Suze felt the bile rise in her mouth as she remembered the look on Roger’s face when she’d told him she was leaving.

Roger.

She banged her fist on the dashboard, and the little plastic dog started nodding its head up and down in retaliation.

#

He didn't shout. He didn’t hit her. Roger wasn’t that kind of guy. The life just seemed to drain out of his face instead. His legs buckled and he dropped into a chair.

When she left, he was silent. She told him she’d collect her things in the morning, but he didn't answer.

Didn't say goodbye.

#

That had been last night.

Blue lights flickered in her mirror. Suze got out of the car and led the two Police Officers into the main foyer of the building, up the stairs and into the flat.

But she lost her courage at the bedroom door.

She couldn't go back in there.

No, not the bedroom, where Roger’s body hung purple and lifeless in the closet. His swollen, black tongue protruding from his lips, in a final act of rebuke.