Shuteye

Of course I don’t actually fall. Not really. But one second, I’m all warm and toasty, ready to sink into oblivion and the next, wham – I’m flying backwards, my arms flailing and clawing at air.

It’s such an odd sensation. Your body jolting, limbs twitching, just as you drift off to sleep. Hypnic jerks. That’s the correct medical term for it. Don’t ask me how I know this or where I’ve dredged up such a useless piece of information. The mind’s weird like that.

Talking about jerks. That bloke behind the bar. What. A. Loser. Giving me a hard time just because I knocked over my wine. Caught my sleeve, that’s all. But he made a big deal of snatching my glass and wiping down the counter.

“That’s enough,” he growled. “You’re cut off.”

“You’re cut off, you mean,” I shot back, jabbing my finger in his face.

“You tell him babe,” slurred Layla, bumping my shoulder and cackling in my ear. “Come on. Let’s go. It’s rubbish here anyway.”

We’d stumbled into the high street, Layla’s boyfriend leaning on the horn and yelling from the car window she was late. He’s a jerk too. No way I was getting a lift with them. I’d wrinkled my nose at the taxi line snaking round the block. No chance. Besides, I know the roads so well I probably could’ve driven back with my eyes shut.

Anyway, it was fine. I’m fine. Home safe and sound.

Although come to think of it. I don’t remember hanging my keys on the hook. Christ, I hope I didn’t leave them in the door. I’ve done that before. Staggered downstairs the next morning to find creepy Piers from the house opposite perched on one of my kitchen stools.

“Good night, Jess?” he’d smirked, sliding my keys across the breakfast bar. “You want to be careful. Anyone could’ve let themselves in.”

Creep. There’s no other way he’d get inside my house. It’s not like I’d ever invite him over… Wait. Hush. Footsteps.

They’re close. I hold my breath. It’d better not be Piers again, making a point. Jerk. Although it doesn’t sound like his phony public-school accent. Jesus what if it’s someone else. What if someone’s in my house. God, why didn’t I check the door was locked.

I won’t move; I’ll lie quite still. Keep my eyes closed. Maybe they’ll think I’m out, go away. But the voices are closer now. Louder, urgent. And someone’s rattling the handle, rapping on the door. Christ, they’re right there.

I peep through my fingers, shrieking when a man’s face is just inches from mine. Shaking, I cover my eyes, shielding them from the sea of dazzling blue.

“Step out of the vehicle,” he barks, his breath fogging up the glass.

“What’s going on,” I mumble over the crackle of his radio. “I’ve only just woken up.”

“You plowed through a red light,” he chokes. “Didn’t stop for the woman on the zebra crossing…”