Hater

Until now there's been a steady stream of reports about individual attacks and major incidents but all of that has now stopped. Now all that's been broadcast is little more than a series of instructions. They're not telling us anything we haven't already heard - stay away from people you don't know, stay at home if possible, watch out for erratic and irrational behaviour and alert the authorities if trouble breaks out, that sort of thing. It's all straightforward, common-sense stuff.
    'Probably not worth wasting time reporting on everything that's happening,' she says. 'One fight in the street's pretty much the same as the next.'
    'I know,' I agree. 'There's still something else missing though, isn't there?'
    'Like what?'
    'If you listen to what they're saying, they're still telling us that everything's under control and the problem's contained but…'
    'But what?'
    'But no-one's coming up with any explanations. No-one's even making any attempt to explain what's happening. That tells me they're either keeping something from us or…'
    'No-one's managed to work it out yet,' she interrupts before I've had chance to finish my sentence.

18

    It's dark. The house is silent. I'm tired but I can't sleep. It's almost two in the morning.
    'You awake?' I ask quietly.
    'Wide awake,' Lizzie answers.
    I roll over onto my side and gently put my arm around her. She does the same and I pull her closer. It feels good to have her next to me like this. It's been too long.
    'What are you going to do in the morning?' she asks. The side of her face is touching mine. I can feel her breath on my skin.
    'Don't know,' I answer quickly. I want to stay at home but there's a part of me that still thinks I should go back to work. The longer I've laid here awake, the more I've slowly managed to convince myself that it will be safe to go back to the office tomorrow. Stupid bloody idiot. I watched people being shot in the middle of town today. There's no way I can go back there.
    'Stay here,' she says quietly. 'Stay here with us. You should be here with me and the children.'
    'I know, but…' I start to mumble.
    'But nothing. We need you here. I need you here. I'm scared.'
    I know she's right. I wrap my arms further around her and run my hand down the ridge of her spine. She's wearing a short nightdress. I put my hand underneath it and feel her back again. Her skin is soft and warm. I expect her to grumble and pull away from me like she usually does but she stays where she is. I can feel her hands on my skin now.
    'Stay here with me,' she whispers again, slowly moving her hand across my backside and down before sliding it between my legs. She starts to stroke me and despite all the fear, confusion and uncertainty we're both feeling I'm hard in seconds. I can't remember the last time we were intimate. There always seems to be a reason why we can't be close. Something or someone always gets in the way.
    'How long's it been?' I ask, keeping my voice low.
    'Too long,' she answers.
    Lizzie rolls over onto her back and I climb on top of her. I carefully slide inside her and she grips me tightly. I can feel her nails digging into my skin. She wants me as much as I want her. We both need each other tonight. Neither of us says a word. No talking. There's nothing to say.

    It's four-thirty. I don't remember what happened. I must have fallen asleep. It's still dark in here and the bed's empty. I look round and see Lizzie standing by the door.
    'What's wrong?'
    'Listen,' she whispers.
    I rub sleep from my eyes and sit up. I can hear noises coming from above us. The sounds are quiet and muffled. Something's happening in the other occupied flat upstairs. There are voices - raised voices - and then the sound of breaking glass.
    'What's going on?' I ask, still drugged with sleep.
    'This started about five minutes ago,' she explains as the voices above us get louder. 'I couldn't sleep. I thought…'
    A sudden thump from the flat above interrupts her. Now the whole building is silent. It's a long, uncomfortable and ominous silence which makes me catch my breath. The bedroom is cold and I start to shiver through a combination of the low temperature and nerves. Lizzie turns round to face me and is about to speak when another noise makes her stop. It's the sound of a door slamming upstairs. Seconds later and we hear hurried, uneven footsteps in the lobby outside, then the familiar creak of the front entrance door being pulled open. I start to get out of bed.
    'Where