Borrowed Time

Three

There’s an odd state that everyone has felt at one time or another that exists somewhere between dreaming and waking up. You’re not fully conscious of everything around you yet, but you know you’re no longer entirely asleep, either. I felt like I was stuck there.

The first thing that stopped me from falling back into a deeper slumber was the realisation that I was wet. Memories of the night before and how much I’d had to drink slowly crept back into my brain and I was filled with a sudden hope that I hadn't pissed myself.

But it couldn’t be that. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel that I was drenched from head to toe. I opened a single eye to get my bearings and immediately closed it again. Too bright.

Wait, was that…?

I opened it again and waited for my vision to adjust. Above me, partially obscured by some grey clouds, was the sun. I brought a hand up to shield my eyes and opened the other to make sure I wasn’t mistaken. I was definitely outside.

Have I been in the alley all night?

I tried to raise my head to look around but the hangover had already begun to kick in so I had to take it slowly. I looked left and then right and then immediately closed my eyes again.

“Where the hell am I?” I said out loud, then prayed really hard that it was a dream.

I checked again. Nope. Definitely real.

“We’re in a fucking field, Lee!” I shouted, annoyed at myself for getting sucked into his antics again. When he didn’t respond I looked around once more but there was no sign of him.

I rolled myself over and pushed myself up onto my hands and knees. I had to pause for a second to hold back the feeling that I might be sick again, but once it subsided I rose to my feet for a look around.

The field was empty but for a small building at the very top end, so I began to make my way towards it hoping I might find a phone or someone who could give me a lift home. My bones ached and every movement hurt, and every step of the way I plotted how I was going to kill Lee for getting me into this mess. How did we even get here?

I paused for a minute and tried to retrace my steps. I remembered being at the bar, going outside and being in the alley. I lifted my hands up mimicking the memory of leaning against the building, and my eyes were immediately drawn to the ring on my left hand. Had it been glowing? I twisted it around on my finger and stared at it in confusion. It looked totally normal, now.

As I got closer to the building it became evident that I wouldn’t find anyone there with a phone. Rather than a house, as I’d expected, the building was some sort of barn. At the side of the building was a long stone trough that appeared to be gathering rainwater. Despite my reservations, I needed something to take the rotten taste out of my mouth so I rushed towards it and began to drink. I had only taken a small sip when a noise from inside caught my attention. It was slight, no more than a whisper, but I could definitely hear voices.

I stepped up onto the trough and pushed my head against the shutters to try to peer inside. The crack between the boards wasn’t very wide, but I could make out the shape of at least one person standing in the middle of the room.

I shuffled along the stone trying to get a better view but the smooth edge wasn’t enough to keep my grip and my foot plunged down into the trough sending up a murky residue from the bottom. “Shit,” I shouted, and the voices from inside fell to a hush. I managed to retrieve my sodden boot just as the door to the barn swung open and two men came running out.

“Hey, I was wondering if-” but before I could continue one of them came bounding towards me and punched me square in the face.

I don’t how long I was out but when I came to I was resting up against the wall of the barn with a taste of blood on my lips and a throbbing in my nose.

The two men were standing nearby whispering to each other so I kept my head tucked into my chest and pretended to still be unconscious while I worked out what I should do next. I tried to sneak a peek at them but could only see some worn-out brown boots topped by trousers, one pair black and the other brown. It didn’t give me much to go on.

The fatter man with the brown trousers halted his whisperings to kick me in the shin and I let out an involuntary moan of pain which caused the thinner of the two men to rush forward, grabbing me by the chin and raising my face to his. His brown eyes stared directly into mine and he shouted something at me in a language I didn’t recognise. His warm breath and spit covered my face as he yelled and his eyes were filled with rage.

I deliberated whether I should speak up or just stay silent. Judging by the look on his face when he stopped yelling, he was expecting some sort of response, but I had no idea what he’d said to me or wanted to hear.

He turned to his friend and shouted something and the man ran off through the clearing on the other side of the barn. With his friend gone he turned his attention back to me, tightened his grip on my face and screamed at me again.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” I shouted through squeezed cheeks, and for a moment the look on his face flashed with confusion before he reached into his pocket and extracted a penknife. Flicking it open with his thumb, he brought it to my cheek, digging the tip of the blade into my skin.

“What did you hear?” he demanded in a thick Welsh accent.

“What? Nothing. I was just-” but I cut myself off as he increased the pressure of the knife against my face. He dragged it ever so slightly downward and I felt a small split in my skin begin to open. “Stop! I don’t know what you want from me.”

I raised my hand up to the cut on my face and his eyes widened. He grabbed hold of me, roughly pulling at my fingers as he tried to pull the ring from them, and I fought to get my hand away from him.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Where is Elinor?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I protested and he spun his arm out, connecting his elbow with my cheekbone and making my head smack against the barn wall. He reached for my hand again, this time bringing the knife to my finger as though he were about to cut it off me and I let out a loud scream. The barrage of attacks was leaving me feeling woozy and I was beginning to fear that this man might actually kill me.

He dug the point of the blade into my skin near the knuckle and I fought to push him off. Behind him, the trees rustled and I prayed that it wasn’t his friend coming back to help him finish the job but instead, a young woman stepped out carrying a rifle. My attacker immediately fell back away from me and scrambled to his feet, hiding the knife behind his back as he turned to face her.