Two Drops Of Water. Nicola Rocca

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      AlfreDario77 20.23

      What’s going on?

      Don’t tell me I’ve touched another nerve with work!

      Well, kind of.

      You still there?

      If truth be told, she didn’t know if she was still there or not. It was probably about a year ago that she started not really being there. And it had got worse ever since as she was beset by one problem after another, slamming into her like a high-speed train.

      What’s going on?

      She had no clue what was going on, only that she’d lost her mind in some corner of this godforsaken earth. No, there was definitely no happy ending to the last year of her life.

      She took another drag and realised the cigarette had burned down to the filter.

      “Fuck’s sake!”

      She flicked the butt out of the window and turned back to the screen. He could wait, for now.

      She moved the cursor up and to the right, and clicked on the X. The chat window disappeared to be replaced by a giant winking emoji.

      Her computer had been her virtual world for days, but she switched it off and returned to the real world.

      CHAPTER 2

      Until this time last year, her life had been completely different.

      Mamma and Papà had raised her lovingly. When she left high school, she had wanted to start working so she could contribute to the household income, but her parents had insisted she apply to university.

      “Choose whatever course you like,” her father had said, more serious than she had ever seen him. “We’ll find a way of paying your boarding costs.”

      She chose Economics, and she already knew enough about that particular subject to know that she didn’t want to be a burden on her parents for years to come. She'd found herself a part-time job at Lilly's Snack Bar so she could at least contribute to some of her uni-related expenses: train fares, books, lunches away from home.

      She worked at the bar, just a couple of miles from the family home, for the first two years of her course, doing the 5.30pm-10pm shift three nights a week. The money she earned eased the pressure on her folks, at least until the country was rocked by the financial crisis. On one horrible autumn day, Chantal had received a phone call from Signor Ferruccio, who told her (sensitively at least) that he could no longer afford to keep her on. The bar just wasn't generating enough business.

      And so Chantal found herself out of a job, and her parents were forced to tighten the purse strings so they could cover all her uni expenses. Then, one day, she responded to an advert:

      WANTED: NIGHT CLUB DANCER

      The night club turned out to be more of a strip club, requiring topless dancers to strut their stuff in front of sleazy, drooling old men stroking themselves through the inside of their trouser pockets.

      But the pay was good and she needed the money, so she had agreed to get up on stage and take her kit off, surrounded by a pack of horny wolves.

      When Chantal awoke from her daydream, she found herself standing in the middle of the kitchen. She took a deep breath and pulled yet another cigarette from the rapidly emptying packet.

      She had tried to quit so many times but succumbed whenever life got tough.

      It was more than just life getting tough though; it was a deep, dark depression that had pervaded every fibre of her being.

      She took three long drags on her cigarette, glanced over at the dirty dishes piled up in the sink and shook the tablecloth over the balcony. The sparrows would be grateful for the breadcrumbs.

      Taking another couple of drags, she headed back indoors and stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray. She wandered into the bathroom and took all her clothes off, glancing at herself in the mirror but not stopping to admire what she saw. That same body, lusted after by dozens of randy old gits at the club, had been traded in for a younger model by the man she'd thought was the love of her life.

      Pushing those painful memories to the back of her mind, she reached inside the shower and turned it on. She put her hands under the jet until it reached the right temperature, stepped into the shower and waited for the water to succeed where yet another cigarette had failed, by calming her thoughts.

      CHAPTER 3

      He opens his eyes.

      He feels drowsy, or perhaps it's the after-effects of the stuff he is forced to take.

      Must be some sort of tranquiliser. But he says nothing. He doesn't moan. All that matters is that he gets what he wants. And so far, he always has.

      He looks over to the opposite corner of the room.

      Still there.

      He smiles and begins to drool at the prospect of his favourite meal, which has been there for some time now.

      He yawns.

      Why me and not someone else?

      He asks himself the same question nearly every day.

      Why me and not him?

      He doesn't actually need an answer, as long as he gives him what he wants...something to play with. Something that sates him and yet leaves him feeling empty.

      He belches - damn acid reflux -

      gets up from the dirty, unmade bed and thirstily gulps down some water from a plastic bottle in an attempt to get rid of the taste of whatever the hell he'd forced him to swallow.

      He sniffs, slips a hand inside his pants and lightly touches his cock and balls.

      He pauses for a few moments as he looks at himself in the mirror and tells himself he’s not an ugly man. Sure, he could improve things if he took a little more pride in his appearance,

      but he’s OK like this. A glance over at his favourite meal in the corner. All that matters is that he always gets what he wants.

      And he has.

      But he doesn’t fancy it right now.

      Perhaps his appetite will return after a cold shower.

      He scratches at his beard. He hasn't shaved for...goodness knows how many days.

      He turns on the cold tap, cups his hands under the stream and splashes the water over his face, which is either just tired or numb from those fucking tranquilisers.

      He turns the tap off and watches as the drops of water fall from his face. He takes off his dirty t-shirt, uses it to dry himself off and tosses it casually onto the bed.

      Before getting in the tiny shower, he again casts his eyes over to the shape in the corner and realises he is changing his mind.

      His СКАЧАТЬ