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A year in the life of Rosie Leroy II
A year in the life of Rosie Leroy II
As I made my away through some of the alleys, and small streets of town I could already hear the sirens of several police cars, rushing to the scene of my house. There were not many people around at this time of the night, the pubs had closed and by now it must be about 3 a m. There was only one place I knew where I could go, and that was to my ex-boyfriend's house in a village about ten kilometers outside of town. I crossed a small bridge over one of the many canals and made my way to the outskirts of town, keeping an eye out for any black car which may be on my tail. Then I saw it, lawlessly heading the wrong way along a one-way street beside the bridge I had just crossed. Again I headed along a side street, sweating from the fear, and speed I had been running.
They had seen my silhouette, no doubt, as I could hear the screeching of brakes, and the car heading down the main street I had been on. The alcohol in my blood made things worse, although my condition was great normally, but I was not feeling fit at all now. I stopped to catch my breath and listened for the car. It had headed down the main road out of town. I was relieved for a moment, until I heard it coming back again, not having found me. Again I jogged back, and forth through back lanes and small streets, always in the direction I needed.
Finally reaching the country road which led to the next village, I ran along the bicycle path, then walked to regain some strength. My mind was focused on getting away, I would think about what this was all about later. Just when I thought I was in the clear, I saw the headlights of a car behind me again, although I did not know whether it was the same car, by the speed it was heading my way I could only assume it was the one searching for me. I jumped into the gully which ran alongside the bicycle path. The water was not deep, and although it felt horrible and I had to take care not to lose my shoes, getting stuck in the muck, it afforded me some protection from sight. Fuck, at this rate it would take forever for me to get to my ex's house. What the hell was I thinking, I should have gone to the police station. What if they knew about him too. The car sped past and as soon as I could no longer see the tail lights I scrambled up the bank back to the path.
The sun would rise soon, I could see the distant clouds lightening up. Running again, I finally reached the rotunda which would lead me into the village. The house was in a small street next to some fields. As I came to the corner, I peeked around and saw the black car in front of his house. The same guy was pounding on his door. I waited, holding my breath. I then saw the door open, and Josh talking to the guy. He made a sign to the car and the other two got out. I nearly shit myself
expecting gunfire again. I saw them push Josh aside and enter the house. It seemed as though they were gone for ages, and I was praying they were not hurting Josh. Finally they came out again, got in the car, whilst Josh was standing in the doorway telling them to fuck off in no uncertain terms.
The car did not turn away at the end of the street but waited there, obviously to see if I would turn up. To the right there was a big barn. I made my way around it, treading in horseshit, and by way of the fields headed for Josh's house without being seen. From the fields I had to go through another body of slushy water to get into his overgrown backyard. I made my way to the terrace area and standing on the metal table, I climbed onto the flat roof of his studio. Here I lay, flatly pressed, dirty, wet, smelly and exhausted. For a moment I felt safe, and against all odds, I fell asleep.
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Good written. Uw verhalen en gedichten brengen me ertoe mijn engels terug wat op te krikken. Rothe.
killea: many thanks Rothe
Nat en koud in slaap vallen, brrr.
Weer graag gevolgd.
killea: Many thanks for reading Hettie
killea: thank you so much Anne
Best engelse les ook
killea: Many thanks for reading me