GBA(s)FC Entry #2

Wardrobe Woman
by Britbird

This morning I found a woman who looked like me in my wardrobe.

I shut the door and had a lie down. It didn’t last long – the smell of sick on yesterday’s clothes brought on a wave of nausea and I sprinted to the bathroom. I held onto the toilet bowl and stared at my fingernails as I heaved. They were dirty and smelt like old bins.

I wandered back to the bedroom, sat down and stared at the wardrobe's pine door. It occurred to me that I was sitting too close. If Wardrobe Me chose to open the door it would smack me straight in the face. That, I thought, wouldn't be the end of the world. Dave had left the month before. He'd taken most of me with him.

I waited. Nothing happened.

I stood up and opened the door again. Wardrobe Me was wearing the silver shoes I’d bought especially for New Year’s Eve the year before.

"Hey!" I said. "I threw those away. Have you been rummaging around my bin?"

Wardrobe me shrugged. The bracelets on her wrists jangled.

"Hey!" I said. "You have been in the bin. Dave gave me those bracelets for my birthday two years ago. What else have you got?"

Wardrobe Me reached out an arm and pushed me. I stumbled backwards, dropping her stolen stash all over the floor. I lay, spread-eagled on the carpet as she reached forward and gathered everything up and redistributed it, stuffing it into her pockets, her bra and the waistband of her skirt.

I grabbed both her hands and pulled. She wouldn’t budge. She just stood there, with her hands on the insides of the wardrobe. I crouched down and tried to squeeze in next to her, but she kicked me away. The pointy silver shoe made contact with my head and drew blood. I crawled towards her, wrapped my arms around her ankles and started to cry.

"Why are you doing this to me?" I said. "Why won’t you come out?"

There was a ripped open but empty bin bag in the corner of the room. I launched myself at Wardrobe woman, grabbing and pulling at her clothes. I found photos, letters, cinema tickets, guidebooks and the condom wrapper from the first night Dave and I slept together.

"You can fucking stay there if you want," I said, "but you’re not keeping this shit anymore."

When the bin bag was full I carried it outside the house. The wheelie bin was on the path, on its side, lid open. Dozens of empty wine bottles lay at its mouth, surrounded by a sea of torn envelopes, cards and letters. I stood the wheelie bin back up, dropped in the bin bag and banged the lid shut.

"Right, let’s see how much you're fucking grinning now."

I sauntered back into the bedroom. The wardrobe door was open.

Wardrobe Me was gone.