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Back I Know What I Saw
Chapters (59)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for I Know What I Saw
  3. By the Same Author
  4. Dedication Page
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
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  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
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  40. 36
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  45. 41
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  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. Now read on for a preview
  55. 1
  56. 2
  57. 3
  58. 4
  59. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I freeze until the pain subsides and then when it does, through the smoke I see a door. It is black, painted in high gloss, as the others are in this road. But it’s smaller than the main one at the top of the stairs. Maybe it had once been a tradesman’s entrance, or an annexe or a flat? I try to wipe the rain from my eyes, but it clings, blurring my vision. Something doesn’t feel right. And then I see it.

The door is ajar. Just.

3

Tuesday

There’s no light coming from the gap in the door. In that infinite bordered space, there is nothing and everything. I rub my left eye to clear the smears but the mist lingers.

My head is still thumping, and between the waves of sickness, I tug at the memory of what happened. Rory attacked me. No, not Rory. A man. Just a drunk in the park. I dig the tips of my fingers hard into my temples. For a moment the pain subsides, but then returns and with it comes other pain that I had relegated to the edges. My ribs ache. My legs are trembling. I take a final drag of my cigarette before flicking it into a storm drain. I look up.

The darkness in the gap behind the door pulls at me. I could go in, I think. I could. It would be dry. Just for a few minutes. I push the door slowly, keeping my ears pricked for anything beyond, any voices, or even a television, but there’s nothing. Then I pause. I can’t go into someone’s house. It’s illegal. But still, I keep pushing. I could shelter in the hallway, just until the rain stops? The door gives way smoothly under my touch and I step into the space behind it. There’s a smell that I recognise. A kind of ‘closed-up’ odour that develops in empty houses. It’s as if the absence of a person from a house, even for a day, begins a kind of decay. As if the separation from its heart makes the house die a little. Inside, I shut the door behind me, softly. The darkness begins to recede as I blink furiously. It’s not warm in here, but not cold either and not wet. I want to sink to the floor and rest just a little, in this covered nook that’s resolving before me into a narrow, tiled corridor. Clearer with each passing second.

‘Hello?’

I throw my voice deep into the hallway. If it catches a person, if there’s someone there, I can explain I found the door open and was just passing. That I’m just warning them against criminals, warning them against myself in different circumstances. There’s no answer so I call out again, but only the silence comes ringing back.