The Debt & the Doormat by Laura Barnard Page A

just stay here?’
    ‘No, I’m fine.  I just want to go home.’  I try to look brave and muster up the courage of leaving here alone. 
    ‘But this is your home,’ she says, her eyes widening, looking at me like I’m crazy.
    ‘Oh yeah, I forgot.’ 
    ‘I think you’re concussed.’  She puts her hand to my forehead.
    ‘No, I’m fine.’  I hit her hand away.  ‘I just want to get back and pretend this never happened.’
    ‘But this did happen.  You need to come to terms with it.’ 
    ‘Jazz, please just stop fussing will you?  You’ve been watching too much TV.  I’m totally fine.’
    ‘But why do you feel the need to go home tonight?  Why not stay?’
    ‘Because I have the feeling that if I don't go now I’ll turn into one of those crazy women that never leaves the house again.’
    She looks at me unconvinced and goes into the bathroom sulking. 
    ‘Ok, but please get a taxi back?’ she shouts out.  ‘If just for my peace of mind?’
    ‘Ok fine, although there really would be nothing left to rob me of.’
    ‘Found it!’ she shouts, excited.  I turn to see her bounding out towards me.  She pulls my hands out towards her and sprays the savlon over them.
    My hands tingle at first, turning quickly into an intense angry burning.  I think I’m imagining it at first, but within a few seconds a fire is ablaze, my hands shaking.  I look down at them in horror to see that they’re more inflamed than before.  I go to speak, but the pain is taking over me, cursing over me in waves, leaving me helpless.
    ‘H...H..Help!’ I stutter.  ‘Burning!  Burning!’ I scream.  I push her out of the way and run them under the tap, the water cooling it instantly. 
    ‘Whoops,’ I hear Jazz say behind me.  She walks over to the sink slowly.  ‘It wasn’t savlon.  It was mosquito spray.  My bad.’ 
    *                            *                            *
     
     
    As the cab driver pulls up at the house I feel sudden relief.  I feel so fed up I just want to be by myself and sulk in my bedroom.  But first I want a chocolate biscuit.  I open the door and head straight for the sofa.  Ryan is stood in the kitchen on the phone, his other hand in his hair, pacing back and forth looking anxious. 
    ‘There you are,’ he says when he sees me.  ‘Don't worry Jazz, she’s here now,’ he says into the phone before hanging up.
    ‘Hi,’ I mumble, exhaustion taking over my body, making my eyelids heavy.  I don’t know if I can make it to the biscuit tin.    
    ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he shouts, shocking me out of my trance.  ‘I called Jazz but she’s making no sense, just blabbing on about some guy she met.’
    Ah, she was obviously trying to tell him the whole story.  His eyebrows narrow down on me, making me feel like a naughty child.
    ‘Sorry, but it's a long story.  Can I tell you later?’  I collapse onto the sofa.  God, this lumpy sofa never felt so good.  Now I just need to try and peel off these trainers. 
    ‘Tell me later?  I’ve been going out of my fucking mind!  I get home to black smoke and – ‘
    ‘Black smoke?’  My eyes widen in confusion.
    ‘Yeah; you’d left garlic bread in the oven,’ he says, with a blank, scary expression. 
    ‘Oh.  Whoops,’ I say, disbelief colouring my tone as I remember.  
    ‘So I get home to an almost house fire and see a half made dinner and you nowhere to be seen.  I don't have a number for you, so can't call you, and I can't get hold of Jazz either.  I thought you’d been abducted or something!’ his voice erupts in an angry growl. 
    ‘Oh Jesus, you’re a drama queen,’ I say flatly, too exhausted to muster any emotion in my voice.  ‘Plus there really is no need to shout.  I’m sorry about the dinner but there was an emergency.’
    ‘What emergency?’ he asks, still sounding more pissed off than concerned.
    I stare back at him,