Free Torn by Gilli Allan

and brain in the sudden grip of a disabling vertigo. Other, even more unwelcome, forces had been instigated, robbing her of coherent speech, draining her limbs of power, scrambling her brain. An ice-cold chill goose-pimpled her flesh, intense nausea rebounded with immediate and turbulent urgency.
    â€˜I feel sick,’ she managed to utter, as she half rolled off the bed, and staggered on wobbling legs for the bathroom.
    Jess opened her eyes. It was pitch black outside the window; inside, the bedroom was divided vertically and horizontally by dark slabs of shadow. Only a pinpoint of amber light, flickering now and again, beamed from her laptop. Though her brain was clear, her head was banging and her mouth felt furry and tasted sour.
    Drunk’s dawn, she thought. Brilliant. At first she thought she was alone, then she heard his breathing, with its characteristic asthmatic wheeze, and the dip of the mattress as he stirred. She was repelled by the thought of their bodies touching, and if he was rousing she didn’t want him to realise she was awake. He turned over then turned back again. The wheeze had developed into a definite whistle. Jess sensed he’d woken and was probably lying there wondering what to do. If she was any kind of decent human being, she would tell him she was awake and go and fetch one of Rory’s inhalers for him. But she stayed rigidly still and tried to control her breathing.
    She could come up with all sorts of rationalisations for her ungenerous behaviour. She was naked and didn’t know if her dressing gown was close at hand. He’d be embarrassed if he thought he’d woken her. He might even be ashamed of his frailty, not that admitting he was asthmatic had seemed to bother him earlier, but still, he might not want to make a big deal of it in the early hours of the morning. More importantly, she was embarrassed. It was a long time since she’d done anything so reckless and had lost some of the bravado necessary to face the stranger in the morning. She couldn’t even remember if they’d had sex, let alone if he’d used a condom.
    The head of the bed was positioned under the flight of stairs that led up to the attic room. As Danny got up he cracked his head on the slanting ceiling. He swore quietly then padded across the room, managing to stumble over something – probably the toy basket – on the way to the bathroom. As he pulled the door closed behind him and she heard the light click on, she let out her breath. Good. She couldn’t remember much about Danny, but at least he must have a modicum of sense. Even if he were still half asleep, the spare inhalers would be easy to spot in the cabinet. As she had the thought, she heard the clatter as something fell into the hand-basin below the wall-mounted cupboard.
    So, he must be thoroughly awake by now. Perhaps he would use the inhaler then decide to get dressed and let himself out of the house. She need never confront him face to face again. Though she could recall thinking he was good looking, that was last night, and under the influence of alcohol; should they meet again, at some future time, would they even recognise each other? But Danny padded back to bed and slid carefully in under the duvet, evidently making an effort not to disturb her. What a cow I am, Jess thought.
    When she opened her eyes again it was bright day. If wearing nothing else, she still had on a watch; it was nearly ten. It would be tempting to close her eyes again and lose herself in sleep, but she knew it would resolve nothing. If the man in her bed had any sense of shame, he would have removed himself before now. But he was still there; even if not touching she could feel the radiant heat of another body. Nothing for it then. She would have to face him – and the situation – now or later. Better get it over with. Slowly and cautiously Jess began to turn. She didn’t want to disturb him before she’d had a good