WATER BATHS

04 ; volume levels

Hugh

It had been a long time since I heard anything through the walls in my room.

I heard a muffled- "Oh fuck's sake-" and then the sharp bang of something being thrown at the wall.

I flinched in my seat, book gripped in my hand tight. So far it was supposed to be promising several murders and a main character called Kip that could see the future in a fish bowl he found in a graveyard.

I placed the novel down, face open and on top of a small stack of wrinkled lined paper.

It had been too long. I wasn't expecting it. If this was a long time ago then I wouldn't have flinched at the sound.

I was sitting at my desk ignoring the crashing drowsiness coming over me; scratching my head at the one book I had picked up from the library in exchange for the other three when the clock ticked twenty-five past eight.

Then there was a familiar solid sound of a slamming door- almost muted if it weren't for the ferocity of it.

Darya. Angry Darya. It was always her. Always trouble. I never knew if she was the creator of it or the victim. My lip curled.

Curiosity was a fog in my head as my spine stiffened.

My heart started racing uncomfortably, making my mouth dry. But that was most likely exhaustion come to wreak havoc upon me. Caffeine. Exhaustion. Darya. I thought I was dying.

I pushed my glasses up my nose slowly and reached for my phone in my pocket, plugging my earphones in. But before I pressed play, my finger hovering over a Pharrell Williams playlist, I listened quietly to the noise travelling houses, one earphone in and another dangling from my fingers.

"Izra, look," I heard faintly. It was a rushed breathless kind of noise. "Dinner isn't going great and I'm trying real hard to keep that promise- like really fu- fine I won't cuss- really freaking hard then. But I don't know how long I can keep doing this. I might cut it short and come home soon." She must have been on the phone. Pacing her room. Her voice kept drifting from left to right.

I ran my thumb over the edge of my desk. It was rectangular and white and littered with paper, crumpled story notes and pencils. My laptop sat against the wall. Far from me.

My bed sat beside me, duvet a messy wave. I remembered a lot of nights hearing things through the walls as I lay there in the dark, and sat at my desk in the middle of work. She must have heard things from here too. Or maybe not because a lot of what I heard was the thumping bass line of rumbling music.

"No. Don't," there was an audible strain in her voice, "Izra-" and then I could barely hear it as I screwed my ears up.

There was a drop of something too close to the wall. I thought of her slumped against it, head banging behind her.

"-Come on don't cry," she said gruffly. 

My phone lit up and I pressed play, pulling the second earbud in. Volume right up. So loud I didn't notice when someone had swept into my room and gave me a severe tap on the shoulder.

"Oh shit-" I jumped in my chair.

"Hughie?"

I tugged my earphones out and found mum staring down at me, hands on her waist with a pinched face.

It was quiet next door. My heartbeat slowed.

"Huh? When did you get home? Knock next time," I said, turning my book over in my hands.

She'd obviously come straight back from work as she stood there in her pencil skirt and blouse. "Downstairs in five," she said sharply and then left, leaving the door wide open in her wake, and a frown set on my face.