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"I could get used to this." she thought.

The smooth, heavy cotton of the pillowcase and sheets felt soft against her skin, warmed from where she had been lying on it.

"But I shouldn't get used to it."

She gave one last, long stretch then, before sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

The light from the window was starting to fade with the setting sun, making the room dim and shadowy. This wasn't her room. This wasn't her house. She felt a strong pang of homesickness then. A longing to be sitting on her own bed, in her own little room, feeling her own sheets against her skin. Tears sprang to her eyes and she fought them back, blinking. They were just things. Possessions weren't important. What was important was that she was here in one piece. Having her bed and her sheets and the books on her shelves wouldn't make her happy.

She thought of Martin then, who had everything he could conceivably want, but didn't seem too happy at all. His behaviour that morning was odd to say the least. Maybe that girl had said something, maybe she had turned him down and he'd spent the night alone somewhere. Angela shook her head. She couldn't seem to say no to Martin, why should that other girl?

Maybe because she's not weak like me.

"Ugh, enough." Angela gave herself a shake and threw her baggy sweatshirt back on before heading down the stairs.

She guessed it was probably dinner time, her stomach was telling her so at least, and she was going to hold up her end of the bargain tonight no matter what excuse Martin came up with.

As she neared the bottom she heard his distinctive laugh and she paused, her foot hovering above the step below, her breath caught in her throat. He was talking to someone. Slowly, as silently as she could, she sank into a sitting position on the stairs, huddled against the wall in the dark and tried to overhear what was going on. She could only make out one voice and that was his, punctuated by long silent pauses. He was on the phone.

She felt the tightness in her chest ease slightly. No one was here, which meant she was still safe. She took a long, steadying breath. No one was going to find her here, they'd have no reason to look, unless Martin had been trying to find out who she was somehow. Hired a private detective or something. They existed outside of TV shows right?

She rubbed her sweaty palms against her knees and forced herself to think. He was laughing right? He wouldn't be laughing if someone was telling him who she was. If he knew what she'd done. She wondered if she would ever stop feeling guilty. Afraid. Frightened that someone would find her, spot her in a crowd and drag her back there. She wondered if everything was somehow on pause, waiting for her to go back to it. Milk bottles sitting in her fridge, letters on her doormat, Alice all dressed up ready to go out for their traditional Saturday afternoon walk together.

She had tuned out the indistinct hum of Martin's voice by now, lost in her own thoughts. She glanced up and saw her coat hanging up in the hallway below her.

"Just grab it." she thought. "Grab it and run."

Adrenaline surged through her at the thought of it. She had made a promise to Martin, but that didn't really matter did it? He'd just been upset, drunk. He didn't need her for anything, and staying here was bad for her. Her thoughts had carried her to the bottom of the stairs and she stood now in front of her coat, one hand stroking the sleeve.

"If I leave now, everything will be fine. He'll be angry with me for a couple of days, then just forget about it."

She took her coat from the hook and hugged it against her body, trying to shield herself from the fresh wave of guilt that washed over her. She wasn't abandoning him because he didn't actually need her. How could she abandon a fully-grown man who was more than capable of looking after himself?

"As long as he keeps away from wine and toasters."

He was still talking on the phone, so she edged towards the door, and tried the handle, praying that it wouldn't creak, or bang, or that he hadn't locked the door. The handle turned, and she felt the door open.

This was it. The blood pounded in her head as she pushed the door wider, and found Caitlynn standing on the step outside.

"Oh."

They both spoke at the same time. Angela felt her adrenaline suddenly hit a dead end and she sagged a little.

"Hello again."

"Hi." The smile had practically melted off Caitlynn's face the second she saw it was Angela standing in the doorway clutching a filthy old coat. "Is Martin at home?"

"Course I am!"

He stood in the hall behind Angela, still with the phone in his hand.

Caitlynn's smile magically drifted back up on to her face, and she edged through the doorway past Angela, who seemed to be rooted to the spot, without trying to come into contact with her, which meant she was jamming herself up against the doorframe in a rather exaggerated fashion. Once she got through, she smoothed her clothes, and went straight up to Martin, kissing his cheek, and looking pointedly at Angela as she slid an arm around him.

Martin gave her a brief smile, before turning to look at Angela, still huddled in the open doorway clinging to her coat.

"You going somewhere?" The question was innocuous, but there was a hard edge to his voice that gave away his feelings.

"I was just going to go for a walk." Angela's voice sounded small and lost. She hung her head, feeling like a guilty child.

"Don't be silly, it's freezing. Not to mention pitch black. Close the door and stop letting the cold in."

After the door clicked shut there was an awkward silence as Martin stood looking at Angela. She had hurt his feelings again.

"So," Caitlynn interrupted, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I'll just grab my stuff."

As soon as he vanished from view, so did Caitlynn's smile.

"So," she started again, "Are you stopping here for long?"

"Oh, no, I'm just, no. Not very long." Angela studiously avoided looking at her by hanging up her coat.

"Nice coat."

Only a woman could do that. Take one simple, seemingly complimentary sentence, and use it to convey their complete dislike for you and everything you are.

"It keeps the cold out."

"I'm sure."

The silence fell again. Heavy and oppressive, broken only by the little impatient huffs Caitlynn would give as she shifted her weight from one foot to another or looked at her watch. Eventually Angela forced herself to turn around, though the closest she could get to actually looking at Caitlynn was studying her perfect black shoes. Women like Caitlynn always made Angela feel inferior. They were always so polished, so perfect that she could practically feel herself fading away in their presence. She couldn't even hate them like some women would. She couldn't call them shallow or stupid or boring, because they weren't. They were beautiful, aspirational, exotic creatures that demanded her admiration.

"OK, OK, I'm ready."

Martin's reappearance broke the unwelcome silence, and he ushered Caitlynn to the door, forming a little parade of aesthetic perfection that was almost too painful for Angela to watch.

She shuffled out of the way so they could make their exit, nearly invisible in the dark hallway in her drab outfit.

"I'll see you later." The edge had crept back into Martin's voice as he spoke to her, and Angela merely nodded as he closed the door.

She heard the lock click shut, she heard their muffled voices, she heard the clack of Caitlynn's heels slowly receding, then she heard nothing as she went back upstairs, into the bathroom to sob to herself under the steaming hot shower.