Jeremy pounded on the door using fists and boots. The door shivered and Jeremy momentarily wondered at its strength.
Slow, heavy footsteps came from inside. About bloody time!
A shock of white hair emerged from the hesitant crack of the doorway.
“Please ma’am, I need to use your stairs. I’m locked out and I left the bath running.”
Had he used that line before? Jeremy didn’t care. He pushed the door open, almost toppling his fragile, old neighbour.
“Are you okay Jeremy?”
He heard the fear in her voice but did not register it.
He took the stairs at the end of the corridor and ascended at a run. The neighbour’s slow steps soon faded out of Jeremy’s hearing.
On the first floor he grabbed an antique vase on his way through the landing without even thinking about it and climbed the next flight on to the roof. The metal door was barred by a horizontal rod and Jeremy opened it easily. The added security only worked when he was on the other side.
Jeremy crossed the roof, ploughing through his discarded syringes, jumped the low wall and entered his own house.
Downstairs his mother was in the kitchen. Startled, she turned abruptly.
“What the hell are you doing? If your father catches you here he’ll kill us both.”
“Where’s the money?”
“What money? I’ve already given you everything I got this month!”
“You lying bitch!”
His mother’s arm flew up stinging Jeremy’s face, shooting his head sideways.
Her words were slow, deliberate, venom dripping off each syllable.
“Get out of my house, and before you change the path you’ve taken don’t even think of coming back here.”
Jeremy’s rage rose within him like a physical being. He pushed her and she fell easily. He ran to the drawer, rummaged and found twenty quid. Lying bitch! He stuffed them in his pocket, grabbed the vase and ran out of the house without noticing the blood pooling out of his mother’s head.
Monday for me means Trifecta Challenge. This week the word is PATH:
3a : course, route
b : a way of life, conduct, or thought
Well, I hope you like it.
Just a small note though. The construction of the houses I describe here is probably not what most of you are used to. Houses in my country are usually three stories high, their roofs flat with only low walls separating the conjoined houses on the block. A washroom is on the top of each house with a continuous flight of steps connecting the three floors vertically together. Therefore, breaking from one house to the next by jumping the roof tops is actually quite easily done. Happily (touching wood) crime is not much of an issue in these parts with people still leaving their keys in the doorway in some parts of the country.