neither is this a story

jane listened to the heaving sounds just behind the door.


the door rattled periodically, punctuated by breathless moans.

swallowing, she decided that this isn't the best time to call on lynn. as she turned to go, she noticed lynn's roguishly handsome neighbour hanson leaning on his door frame, watching her. she blushed and hastily tugged on her luggage to hurry down the corridor to the lift.

but before she could walk five steps hanson called out to her: "in trouble?"


too embarrassed to say anything, she kept walking. he must've seen the tear tracks on her face. damn not having a mirror handy at a time like this! her mascara must've been so smudged she KNOWS she looks like a racoon. yeah. a racoon with red puffy eyes.

"i have a spare bed," he called after her.


she kept walking.

"in the other room," he added.

she stopped. even though she's not in the right frame of mind - who'd be in the right frame of mind when your step-father's told you to get out after he couldn't get you to do what your ma did to earn the monies for him? - she knew she needed a roof over her head, for tonight at least. hanson, seeing her pause, called out again, his own hesitation echoing hers.

"you can stay here until tomorrow when lynnette's in a better - position - to house you properly."


jane started to tear. she hung her head and blinked quickly, pinching the part of the bridge of her nose where the corners of her eyes were with her free hand. that's where tears flowed from, she read in a book somewhere.

"don't cry," she thought, "you're tougher than this. you know how it is, you know it. you knew it all along that he would eventually kick you out and she won't even stop him or or help you in any way. what you knew all along can't hurt you, can it? don't give them the triumph of crying again. don't."

suddenly hanson was beside her, taking the handle of her luggage from her hand. she started, the urgency of tears fled, if only for a moment, and involuntarily looked at hanson.

the gentle kindness on his face broke whatever resolve she had not to cry and she began to sob ugly, racking sobs that robbed her of breath. hanson, taking pity on the girl, held her head to his chest and let her cry, saying "there, there" awkwardly.

as time passed he hoped she wouldn't notice the rattling of the door had grown more urgent and had developed into a steady pounding, the moans replaced by soft shrieks. so he steered her gently and slowly, with her head still firmly on his chest, to his place. she went with him meekly, not seeing and clinging to him as if he were the only lifeline she had, her eyes burning the dryness of his shirt away the whole time. he hoped they would make it to his place in time. goodness knew he winced as they walked past lynn's door.

just as he was about to close the door of his own apartment behind him, he heard a shriek followed by a triumphant cry.


hanson rolled his eyes and closed the door behind him.