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water, scolding, running

2:38

down her hair, her back, her legs,

2:40

washing away, washing away, scrubbing.

2:45

I can hear you. Turning

2:47

quickly, she glances around the room, rubbing

2:50

at her eyes and staring into the emptiness

2:52

of the bathroom. Nothing.

2:57

She turns off the spray, clambers out, and

2:59

shoves her glasses on, grumbling

3:01

when they are steamed up beyond use. Suddenly

3:04

acutely aware that anything can be hiding in

3:06

the fog, she wipes them furiously

3:09

on a damp towel and inches the bathroom

3:11

door open. The

3:15

hall is empty. The

3:18

house is silent. She

3:20

shuffles back into the bathroom and climbs onto the

3:22

sink to peer out of the open window, half

3:25

expecting to come face to face with the voice,

3:28

clinging to her drainpipe or balancing on her

3:30

windowsill. But her wall is

3:32

clear. On

3:34

the road there is one car two streets

3:37

down, but it is

3:39

shrouded in darkness. She

3:41

shakes herself off, convincing herself

3:43

she imagined the sound before

3:45

moisturising in the bathroom mirror and

3:48

going to bed. I

3:54

can still hear you. The

3:57

sound echoes through the bathroom the next day as

3:59

the shower is set. I tumbled hot and scolding

4:01

across her shoulders. Who's

4:03

there? she calls, turning

4:06

the steam off and looking around. The

4:09

room is empty, but through the faint

4:11

patterings of the leftover rush of water she can

4:13

hear it. Heavy breaths,

4:16

coming from somewhere nearby. She

4:19

twists her head, her ears twitching as

4:22

she follows the sound until she is

4:24

crouched in the bath, ear pressed to

4:26

the plug hole, feeling the faint taps

4:28

of air brush against her face. She

4:32

holds her breath and the puffs of air stop

4:34

too. Before.

4:37

Boom. Her

4:40

shoulders catch heavily against the tap as she

4:42

falls backwards and wincing she scrambles out of

4:44

the bath, leaving the romance shutting

4:46

the door heavily behind her. That

4:50

night she turns on every

4:52

light in her house, sits

4:54

on her bed and meticulously scrapes

4:56

every inch of her dry skin into a pile

4:58

on the carpet. When

5:01

she stumbles to the bathroom in the morning,

5:03

the hard sting of the lights, glaring at

5:05

her from every room, make her eyeballs ache.

5:08

She stands before the mirror, from the

5:11

other side her eyes stare back at her, haggard

5:13

and darkened, her skin hanging limply

5:15

from her bones. Cursing

5:18

herself for missing her routine, she gropes for

5:21

the pot of cream before

5:23

the memory hits her like a slap. Licking

5:26

the torch onto her phone, she shines the

5:28

light down the plug hole, bracing

5:30

herself for an eye or a flash of teeth,

5:33

but finding only hair and darkness

5:35

and relief. With

5:38

a slight laugh at herself, she shrugs, moisturises

5:42

and leaves. She

5:44

spends the work day worried, nervous.

5:47

She had snathered on plenty of moisturiser before she

5:49

left, but she had broken her

5:51

routine and she is wearing black, and

5:54

she is worried that the little loose flakes of her will

5:56

show up harshly on the cameras. trying

6:00

to hide behind the shoulder of her smart

6:02

new co-presenter or behind the top of

6:04

her papers and she ignores the

6:07

scowls from the director. Scrape,

6:17

scrub, go. She

6:20

mumbles to herself in the shower, scratching

6:22

the rough exfoliator against her skin. I

6:26

can still hear you. She

6:29

ignores it, scrubs. Why

6:32

were you hiding today? She

6:36

shuts off the shower, climbs out, stands

6:39

before the mirror and slops heaping molds

6:41

of cream onto her body. Let

6:45

me do that for you. Stop

6:48

it. You want

6:50

to be soft and shiny. Is

6:53

that why you were hiding behind

6:55

your soft and shiny friend? She

6:58

was glowing. Let

7:00

me do it for you. You

7:03

are so tired, dull

7:05

and hiding and sunken. You

7:08

can shine. She

7:11

shoves the plug in but the voice thuds

7:13

at the pipes and rattles the plastic so

7:16

she runs the taps until the

7:18

bath is full and she moisturizes

7:20

until she is slipping around in

7:23

her bedsheets for the rest of

7:25

the night. The next day she

7:27

is wary of everyone. One

7:30

of the cameramen looks at her too long and she thinks

7:32

it might be him watching her

7:35

judging her. She

7:37

locks herself in the bathrooms and

7:39

she strips everything off and she

7:41

moisturizes everywhere. When she

7:44

walks back to her spot on the sofa she is

7:46

filled with pride and she takes the

7:48

look of confusion of her co-presenter with glee

7:51

and she perches in her place only

7:53

slipping slightly against the fabric. Picking

7:56

up her papers she clears her throat for

7:59

the last The lights do not turn on

8:01

and the cameraman is pointing in her direction.

8:04

She bulks, dodging the hands that encroach on

8:07

her face, but they hold

8:09

her in place, strong and firm, dabbing

8:11

powder across her skin. You're

8:14

too shiny, love, they say. The

8:17

light is bouncing off your forehead. What

8:20

did you do in there? Her

8:22

face burns in humiliation, but the layers

8:24

of makeup disguise it, until

8:26

she is hunched on the toilet seat, listening

8:28

to the silence of her bathroom. She

8:31

is staring at her hands. They

8:33

are soft, so soft. It

8:37

is so quiet. Can

8:39

you hear me? A

8:41

wait, and then a yes, echoing

8:44

in the plastic of the bath. They

8:47

said I was too shiny today. Impossible.

8:51

It says, rasping against the pipes.

8:55

You cannot be too shiny. You

8:58

are a star. I

9:01

saw you. You

9:03

looked radiant. You

9:06

watch the news every

9:08

day. Her

9:11

body gushes with pride. With

9:13

her soft, soft hands, she whips her clothes

9:15

off flamboyantly, strutting into the shower

9:17

and letting the water tumble over her. Beneath

9:20

it she flaunts, bending and twisting

9:23

and stretching and gasping, the plug

9:25

grunting and slobbering below her. She

9:28

is proud and glorious and

9:30

magnificent. She is

9:32

adored and famous and wanted. When

9:37

she crawls out, she is exhausted and her

9:39

skin is raw. Slapping her

9:41

creams over it, she massages and caresses

9:44

until it folds and squidges beneath her

9:46

touch. She tugs at

9:48

the ruffles, pulling them from her bones and

9:50

they bounce back, fat and

9:52

soft and rosy. She

9:55

has never felt so young. She

9:57

is sparkling. She

10:00

tells them she doesn't need any make-up at work the

10:02

next morning, but they insist. Orders

10:05

are orders, they say, smiling at

10:07

her apologetically, and she

10:09

thinks that they have a secret understanding, yet

10:11

they spend longer than ever caking the stuff on

10:13

top of her. Her thighs

10:15

are numb when they finally let her stand, and

10:18

she scurries to the bathroom to peer at herself in

10:20

the mirror. They have laid

10:22

on so much foundation that it has dulled her,

10:26

taken her shine. Discreetly,

10:29

she leans towards the plug and asks for

10:31

help, but it does not reply

10:33

to her pleas.

10:36

Hand-shaking, she washes herself and watches as

10:38

the make-up comes off with half of

10:40

her face, trickling down the

10:42

plug hole. It

10:44

hurts, tingles, but

10:47

she moisturises, moisturises, moisturises,

10:50

revelling in the burn that prickles across her

10:52

face. It

10:54

is working. Her

10:56

entrance to the set is a stride, and

10:59

she sits up proudly, and everyone is looking

11:01

at her because she is so beautiful. And

11:04

the cameras turn on, and the cameramen fall

11:06

away from their posts because she is so

11:08

striking, and she imagines she is looking right

11:10

into the voice that has crawled into her

11:13

bathtub, that watches her every day

11:15

on the news and every evening in the shower,

11:18

and she shines for it. Cut!

11:22

The shout echoes across the set. The

11:24

red lights on the cameras flicker away, the

11:27

screens lurch into the error displays, and

11:29

murmur ripples through the room. The

11:32

director storms onto the set, his eyes

11:34

furious and his face scrunched in rage.

11:38

What have you done? Me? She

11:41

asks quietly, moving her knees from

11:43

where his have pressed against hers. His

11:46

face is lower too close to her, his

11:48

breath is hot and rancid on her face. Yes,

11:53

you love, you're fucking glowing.

11:56

She beams, I am. Do

11:59

you want to- feel. She grabs

12:01

his hand and presses it against her cheek, squeezes

12:04

it against her softness and her youth

12:06

and her glory. Instantly,

12:08

he recoils, dragging his wrist from her hand

12:11

and bringing away a clump of her cheek

12:13

with him. He

12:15

looks down calmly at first, chewing

12:18

over the hot heap of gore resting in

12:20

his palm, but when it

12:22

hits him his face twists, his

12:25

fury and rage multiplied. He

12:27

glares at her, eyes wide and

12:29

shaking. She thinks he is

12:31

going to hit her, going to spread the blood

12:33

and flesh over her face, rub

12:35

it into her eyes, but after

12:37

he stutters a few half-hearted obscenities he

12:40

simply wanders off the stage in a

12:42

daze. She

12:44

brings her own hand up to her cheek, and

12:47

it is soft and moist, and

12:49

when she raises her fingers to her eyes they

12:52

are red and gleaming. Do

12:56

you see me? She

12:58

is yelling as she charges into the bathroom,

13:01

panting from the run home, cheeks

13:03

streaming and trickling with the rush of breeze

13:05

against it. I

13:07

did, the voice says, echoing

13:10

in her bathtub. You

13:12

were beautiful. Glowing,

13:15

glowing, it agrees. Shining,

13:20

shining, a star,

13:23

a star. Hot

13:27

water, scolding, running down

13:29

her hair and her back and her

13:31

legs, not washing away,

13:34

not to wash away. She

13:37

is beautiful and soft and young.

13:39

The cameras love her, she

13:41

loves her, the voice and the

13:43

plug loves her, it watches her.

13:47

In the mornings on the news and in the

13:49

evenings in the bath, and it loves her, adores

13:52

her. She is soft for it, soft

13:55

so soft, so soft

13:57

she could crumble under a palm to sit in her bed.

14:00

integrate under a look. She

14:03

kneels, pressing her knees into the

14:05

hard plastic and leaning over the plug. The

14:08

water scampers down it, red and

14:10

full of tiny little chunks of her. She

14:13

holds her breath, listens, moaning,

14:17

slobbering, teeth gnashing.

14:20

She can hear the foam sizzling around their lips

14:22

in their excitement. Feel the

14:24

heat radiating from their throat. The

14:27

more it begs, please,

14:31

begging her, her, her

14:34

soft, shining, beautiful skin, full

14:37

of gentle folds and loving fat

14:39

and rosy allure. She

14:42

digs her fingers into the gash of her cheek, cursing

14:45

the director for taking so much of her

14:47

for himself, and she takes hold

14:49

and she rips and she tips her head back

14:52

and groans at her tenderness. She

14:54

falls away and she hunches over, winning

14:57

the pieces of flesh to hurry down the plug with the

14:59

rest of her, with the red and

15:01

tiny chunks that scuttle in the water. Beneath

15:05

her, the voice howls, teeth

15:07

grinding furiously, the

15:10

pipes thud and shiver, a

15:12

small lump presses through the hole and the

15:14

voice roars with delight. But

15:16

it is not enough, not

15:18

enough. She pries her fingernails

15:20

underneath the metal and tears at the fitting

15:22

until her bones are sore.

15:25

Three fingernails spring into the bathroom tiles, but

15:28

with the last one the metal grating

15:30

is ripped free and the slab of

15:32

flesh scurries desperately down with the pink water.

15:36

The bath jumps beneath her, momentarily

15:38

throwing her into the air. Yes,

15:42

it yells, you are

15:44

beautiful, shining, soft. I

15:46

see you, I see you, I see

15:49

you. She

15:51

shivers, enraptured. More,

15:55

it bellows. Trembling in

15:57

agonising delight, she presses her

15:59

teeth. into the knuckles of her thumb, vibrating

16:02

in ecstasy as they sink into the bone

16:04

and the tip falls off into her mouth.

16:07

Greedily, she suckles on the spoils, relishing

16:10

her feel and her taste, before

16:12

spitting herself down the plug. I

16:20

hope you

16:37

enjoyed today's episode of The Other Stories.

16:40

Please tell me you see me with

16:42

written by E.J. Bramble narrated by Georgia

16:44

Cook, produced by Carl Hughes, unmuted by

16:46

Mayu and Tom Robinson, and sound effect

16:48

provided by Freesound. The

16:51

episode illustration was provided by Luke Spooner of

16:53

Carry On House. A quick thanks

16:55

to our community managers Joshua Boucher and Jasmine

16:57

Arch, and to Joshua Boucher

17:00

for helping with our submission reading,

17:02

and of course to Ben Errington,

17:04

the digital darling of pop culture,

17:06

a cultural phenom that transcends the boundaries

17:08

of the online world. E.J.

17:10

Bramble enjoys writing weird things. She lives in

17:12

England and likes being by the sea. You

17:14

can follow her on Twitter at

17:17

EJ Bramble. Georgia

17:19

Cook is an illustrator and writer from London.

17:22

She has written for publications such as

17:24

Baffling, Bastarian Lit and Flame Tree Press,

17:26

as well as the Doctor Who range

17:28

of Big Finish. You can also

17:30

pre-order Georgia's Dracula Daily Sketchbook Collection, which

17:32

is an art book featuring a new

17:34

drawing for every entry in the classic

17:36

horror novel Dracula. The

17:38

link to that is a little bit long, so I'll place it in the

17:40

show notes. Drivers Stories is a production

17:43

of the story studio Hawk and Cleaver, and is

17:45

brought to you with a creative comments, attribution, no

17:47

commercial, no Drivers of license. That means don't change

17:49

it, don't sell it, but by all means share

17:52

the hell out of it. Until

17:54

next time. This

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