During the night I awaken to unusual sounds and briefly panic, before remembering that Yanni is here. I strain my ears to see if I can determine what he is doing from the sounds but fail. There is certainly a crash that sounds a lot like it came from downstairs. Being the tenacious and curious journalist I am I get up to investigate the noises, putting my floor length silk robe over the cami and French knickers I chose to wear for bed.
Being the smart, safety conscious and abuse surviving woman I am there's no way I'm confronting a possible intruder without a mechanism of defence, in my case the highest and spikiest stiletto I own!
With the shoe clamped between my chest and chin I creep along the landing, tying the robe closed as I do. Once the robe is secured I remove the shoe from under my chin and spend a few seconds getting a comfortable and firm grasp on the toe of the 100mm high 'Corneille' Louboutin now in my dominant left hand.
Tip toeing down the stairs silently thanks to my intimate knowledge of this house and which stairs squeak when trodden on, I arrive at their foot and observe a dark masculine figure in my lounge that looks far too slender and short to be Yanni. I hold my breath, horrified that there seems to be an intruder in my home, hopeful that it is Yanni and terrified that it isn't!
The figure is trying to make their way around my lounge in almost total darkness, the only light that of tonights silvery half moon that is streaming through the large window.
Another bang as he collides with an end table and knocks over the photo of me and my parents.
"Fook'saaaake!!"
That is NOT Yanni and doesn't sound like anyone I know, the high pitch and definite Northern accent certainly not familiar, nor welcome! I attempt to back up the stairs to retrieve my phone and dial 999 but step on the hem of my robe, slipping back down the few stairs I had managed to ascend with a thud, an involuntary yelp escaping my lips, startling the prowler who I now see is approaching me at an alarming pace.
Gripping the robe and raising my hands to shorten its length I turn to run back upstairs but after I take only 2 steps the stranger rounds the ornate Georgian newel post, grabs my ankle and pulls me back down to floor level. I lose grip of the shoe and my teeth bite harshly into my lower lip as my chin hits the last step. I taste blood and feel a familiar fear wash over me, I can tell exactly where this interaction is going from his violent behaviour and lecherous words as he pins me face down on the oak floor. It's happened before!
An all consuming terror fills me, my skin ice cold, my body completely stilling, limp and inactive, only life preserving activity persisting.
The pain is always easier to tolerate if I don't fight and it is usually over sooner.
My attacker places his upper torso over mine with a speed that makes my head spin and grunts into my ear while lifting the robe and roughly squeezing a full handful of my silk covered arse, "'E wasn't lyin' when 'e sed you was bangin'! I'm gonna fuckin' enjoy this........ but not as much as you are sweet'art!"
He has ripped off my shorts and pulled me backward and upward by my waist, which has left me on my knees, my face remaining flat on the floor. He swings his body behind mine placing his legs between my thighs, prises me open with his spiteful hands and spits onto me, telling me that dirty sluts don't deserve lube, that every stroke should feel like being ripped open over and over again, burning pain should sear through me, my muffled screams piercing the night.
I can feel his crotch rubbing against me, hear his wheezy laboured breathing, and feel his fingers penetrate my arse. I have almost lost contact with the entire situation, my brain shutting off all nerves and emotions in an act of self preservation, my body almost completely numb. He has really talked himself into a frenzy. Im aware of overall movement, of my body being held in place by my hips, a rhythmic and aggressive rocking motion, but little else.
I feel myself floating away into a colourless void, all sounds dull and unintelligible. Then nothing.
Darkness!
My next consciousness reveals the fuzzy outline of Yannis frantic face only inches from mine, his mouth moving but I can't understand what he is saying. Are those tears...... and is that blood on his cheek?
Oh god... am I bleeding? Why am I deaf?
I am so scared and confused right now and try to move but can't, my body not taking directions from my brain.
I close my eyes again, exhaustion claiming me.
I am roused by a blinding light shining directly into my eye which is accompanied by a calm and clearly female voice. My eyelashes flutter open to find Laura above me, her face smiling, although her soft words are no clearer than Yannis had been.
Where is he??? Is he ok?
I lift my head and try to locate him but my neck hurts too much to move and he isn't in my line of vision. Laura supports my body as I again attempt to sit up and an incredible and debilitating pain rips through me, from my coccyx and up through my abdomen, sending a throaty cry of pain from my mouth. She shushes me, stroking my hair and kissing my face as hot tears run down hers and I wonder why?
Why am I on the floor?
Why am I in so much pain?
Why is Laura crying?
I tell her to "go and sort your face out, you look like a panda" but she doesn't respond, I'm not sure she heard me as my voice is very feeble.
I try to smile at her but it hurts too much so I look away. That's when I see him. He is sitting just off to my left, his brother beside him sporting a huge circular white patch over his right eye which makes him look like a minion. I'd like to laugh at him as he looks so ridiculous but I have no energy for him.
I need to see Yanni!
I NEED TO SEE YANNI. Instinctively I know that he is the only thing that can make me feel better, so I call for him, my voice hoarse. I hear him, he is behind me and Laura realises my need to see him so helps me spin around where I see Yanni flanked by 2 dark uniforms, one of them talking to him whilst the other puts, hang on..... handcuffs?? I reassess the uniforms and see that they are infact police officers.
What the hell happened here?
"Sydney!! Sydney, I need you to call Ferdi for me, tell him to meet me at West Hampstead police station. Please? I don't want you to worry, just rest and recover." Yanni smiles apologetically.
The larger of the two officers turns Yanni around and leads him along my hallway towards the front door and that's when I see the handcuffs clearly. What are they for?
Wait.... did Yanni hurt me? No, absolutely not! I will never believe that!
He calls back over his shoulder and I hear this as clearly as I've ever heard anything in my life....
"I love you Sydney. I'm sorry!" and he disappears from sight.
Tears fall, overwhelming emotion hitting me like a 4x4. I sob... he loves me! I don't deserve that love!
I drop my head and notice what looks like a pile of wet washing on the floor. Why would that be there? Did I fall down the stairs whilst carrying washing to the machine?
There are a few people who seem particularly interested in the pile so I pay more attention to it myself. I blink a few times to try to sharpen my vision because it looks like a person. Laura is speaking into my ear but I'm not listening. That IS a person, a person covered in blood with a shoe on its face, no..... IN HIS FACE!
As that realisation sinks in a large white drape is pulled over the pile. They do that when someone is dead don't they? Is he dead?
There's a dead man in my house?!!
Who is he? What happened? What was he doing here?
THERE'S A DEAD MAN IN MY HOUSE!
It's true what they say about Louboutins.
They really are....
.....KILLER HEELS!! Internally I smile at my awful crass joke before wondering, how and why did one of mine end up piercing his brain?!?