In Her Words(8)

By: J.S Ellis

As much as I admired his confidence, I found him arrogant. ‘That’s most impressive... so you are the one who plays that music?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’ve been listening?’

‘Hard not to. We don’t live far from each other.’

‘Oh yeah,’ he said.

I was sure he didn’t want to be there with me, in that coffee shop. I must have dragged him out of bed. How old was this boy anyway, nineteen, twenty?

‘Where are you from? Your English is perfect, but you’ve got an accent... I’m not sure-’

‘Sweden,’ he said, inspecting his nails, ‘I suppose you’re English?’

‘Yes, very.’

‘From London?’ he said without looking at me.


He smiled, still not glancing at me.

‘Are your friends Swedish too?’

‘Yes, except Nicky, he’s English. Sam and Andy are from Sweden too.’

‘I see. What’s your second name?’


‘And how old are you, Michael Frisk?’

He sighed. ‘Twenty-one.’

I smiled. He’s still a baby. Oh, to be young again, I wanted to tell him to cherish those years, and you’re only young once, but I didn’t want to appear like I was lecturing him. He wasn’t interested in what I had to say.

‘That’s a hell of a good age to be,’ I said, and stood up to leave. ‘It was nice talking to you, Michael, and thank you.’

‘For what?’

‘For taking your time to come here,’ I said, taking out a five-pound note and placing it on the table. ‘But before I go, may I ask...’


‘Do you play in a club? I don’t recall the name of it.’

‘Mau Mau, yes, I play there with my band.’

‘I thought it was you.... anyway, I must go.’

‘Take care,’ he said.

Something isn’t right. I know Michael’s hiding something. He didn’t tell me the whole truth. But, why?

20th January



I haven’t thrown the dress away, or washed it either in case it helps me to trigger something about that night. It’s all still a blur. I’ve kept the dress hidden in my closet so Richard won’t see it. I haven’t mentioned anything about the night to him. I don’t want to worry him. I’ve avoided sex, so he won’t notice the bruises on my body and start to ask questions. I should go and see my gynecologist. There’s got to be more to the story than Michael told me.

21st January



Just got off the phone with my gynecologist’s secretary. It was an awkward call since I couldn’t go through the details over the phone. ‘Can it wait two weeks?’ She asked.

‘No, it can’t, I need an appointment fast.’

The secretary sighed and flipped the pages of the diary. The only available space was a week from now. All I knew was, the longer it took, the more difficult it would be to tell. I made the appointment anyway, despite how difficult it would be to tell now so much time has passed.

22nd January



I’m shaking here. WTF? I’ve just checked the mailbox, and there was a note inside with these words:

Be careful, nothing is what it seems.

It was typewritten. Was it really intended for me? Who would post such a thing? It must be a practical joke. Kids taking the piss. Anyway, I’m going to throw it in the bin. Kids pull these kinds of pranks all the time, don’t they?

24th January



Ugh! Last night, Richard and I went to an opera, Tosca. It made me cry! Operas have that effect on me. When we got home, Richard unzipped my dress. I wasn’t in the mood for sex, not after what happened. Or didn’t happen? Oh, I don’t know!

‘I was thinking, we should go away somewhere,’ he said, caressing my back.

He brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed it. ‘I’m tired, Richard.’

Richard sighed and pulled away.

‘Did you take your medication, darling?’

‘I’ll take them now,’ he said.

I threw my hands into the air. ‘Richard!’

‘I know, I know, Sophie don’t worry, I’ll take them now.’