I hate you

‘I HATE YOU!’

She screamed those words and at the same time slammed the wooden door so violently that it bounced off its hinges and sent a tremor through the whole house. Crumbs of plaster and splinters of wood fell to the ground, the pitter-patter sound drowned by the sound of the heavy raindrops battering the patio, the window panes and the roofs. 

‘I HATE YOU!’

She hated that man so much that it was a good thing that door was now firmly closed behind her.

‘I HATE YOU!’

‘I HATE YOU!’

‘I HATE YOU!’

She rested the back of her head against the door and this felt good. She let the weight of her anger and deception sink into the thick wooden planks. She relaxed a little and pressed her shoulder blades further into the wood and allowed her body to slowly slide down until she gave in and landed on the door mat with a thump. Which was what triggered the tears. Tears that turned into sobs.

‘I … hate … you …’ 

And she lay there and the emotional exhaustion sent her to an uneasy sleep while the rains were pounding the roofs and the winds were twisting the trees. While the evil and the devils of the outside world raged, united, against the old house.While she was inside, all alone …

CRACK 

The clap of thunder tore the heavens open, immediately followed by a blinding flash of lightning. She was jerked awake. She raised her head from the damp mat.

CRACK

Thunder snapped and rumbled on deeply from the depths of the earth below her and not from the skies above. A flash of lightning followed and lasted long enough so she could take a glimpse of the rain and the trees behind the windows at the back of the house. They were shaking violently form side to side. She sat up. She rubbed her eyes. They were swollen and sore and probably red. Her face was wet from the rain or from her tears or both and her hair stuck to her cheeks.

CRACK

The whole house felt it, the rumble echoed inside the thick stone walls. It tested the rafters up there in the attic. An other flash of lightning. This time she caught the pink and white zig-zagging line, illuminating the apocalyptic scene out there in the woods.

She felt the cold now. She took in her wet clothes, clinging to her skin. She had not even removed her coat, nor her shoes. She should get up, go upstairs, get undressed and get a shower. She did feel cold, which was reassuring. This was the reason she was shaking, not fear. 

CRACK 

She could feel the house trembling in unison with the tremors of the low rumble following each crack of thunder. They kept coming and now thunder and lightning were one, you couldn’t count the seconds between them; lightning had probably struck somewhere. Surely she would know if it was her house that had been struck. Maybe going upstairs was not a good idea. Maybe the time was not right.

BANG

SLAM

What now? She turned round to where the loud noise had come from. Loud enough to be heard above the sharp cracks and the low rumble of the thunder. She had not closed the shutters before going out. One of the hooks must have come off. Now it was lose and the wind was pushing it backwards and forwards. 

SLAM 

As it flew back against the stone wall. 

SLAM 

As it came back to hit the window frame.

She was standing in the middle of the room at an equal distance between the windows and the door to the corridor. She could go upstairs and lock herself in the bathroom. She could hide under the bed in the bedroom. She could run to the door and go outside to close the shutters and stop this banging. She …

CLINK CLINK CLINK

A crack of thunder. A flash of lightning. A small heap of glass shards on the wooden floor. A broken window pane. Wind gushing in. Rain too.

‘I hate you.’

She did not have the strength to scream any longer. She stood there, helpless. Now it was definetely fear that was causing the violent shaking. 

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

She turned her head to where the noise was coming from. Then something terrifying happened: she saw a shadow gliding behind the broken window, a dark swift movement in the night. She should move away from the window, hide next to the bookshelves in the darkest corner of the room. Was it a flying branch? Was it a spectre in the crazy night? A human being ? A thief? That man she hated was back to haunt her? He had not left and was lurking around her house! She took a step towards the bookshelf and caught a glimpse of her refection in the French windows as the lighting flashed angrily. She looked like a madwoman, hair dishevelled, wet and clinging to her face, eyes red and swollen, her clothes damp and crumpled. She had to get upstairs to the bathroom.

CRACK

She looked at the clock. Midnight. 

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG

The thunder kept rolling and the lightning was blinding and the rain kept coming down. She thought she might as well face death right now, whichever way it decided to present itself to her and so she made her way to the door. By the time she reached the door and seized the handle the spectre or the axe murderer on the other side was yelling.

‘Open the door!’

‘Please, open the door!’

‘Hurry! You’re in danger! Open the door!’

She opened the door to the murderer and to the elements. Right there in the door frame, in the puddle that had now formed in the hollow of the threshold stone, stood a man she had never seen before. A man who seemed, just like her, to be made of flesh and blood, whose hair, just like hers, was drenched by the pouring rain and stuck to his face, whose clothes, just like hers, were crumpled and wet. But he was tall and broad and he could speak.

‘Come on. You need to come with us. Lightning has struck.’

That man looked like the hero in her wildest dreams, her true knight in a shining armour. Mr Darcy and Mr Rochester thrown into one.  

CRACK

And she looked a right mess. 

SLAM

She fainted, collapsing with a splash in the puddle at his feet.