Wednesday, April 20, 2016

“I still think we should have called the police”, Liam protested.
“The police can’t fix everything. You shouldn’t be so dependent on them”, i replied.
“Lyds, we found a girl nearly beaten to death to the point of unconsciousness in the middle of the street. Call me cautious all you like, but that’s usually a situation where a law enforcement officer might be useful. Just sayin’.”
I rolled my eyes at that comment as stuck my key into the door. I turned it to the right to unlock it, only it wouldn’t budge. My eyebrows furrowed together in confusion and hoped to God that the door wasn’t already unlocked. I gently pushed to door and watched in suspicion as the door slowly creaked open. Ok it’s not that bad maybe i forgot to lock it, actually now that think about it i don’t remember locking it in the first place, i thought to myself.
“Well this isn’t good”, Liam retorted.
“No it’s fine i just forgot to lock it”, I replied.
“Um, Lyds.”
“Yeah”, i replied in a hushed whisper?
“I locked the door before we left.”
I turned to him and everything that kept my strong, independent, badass exterior stitched together was suddenly overpowered by unrelinquished fear. Liam and I exchanged looks that agreed to step slowly into the apartment and grab a weapon to defend ourselves in case there were any attackers. I tip-toed quietly to the left into the kitchen and snatched the biggest knife out of its set. I could feel my heartbeat in my ears and taste the rust in my heavy breath. I closed my eyes in attempt to slow my breathing or at least quiet it. I looked over and saw Liam holding a .47 mm by his low waist. I gave him a look that cynically questioned the gun's purpose. He walked over to my bed and checked underneath and all around it and I went into the living room and searched myself, but i wasn't looking for the robbers I was looking for the things that really mattered: my cash, the old photos of my grandparents, and the safe. I opened the pantry and moved everything: the canned goods and boxes of food that took a couple of months to expire to the bottom of the pantry, which didn't take long because I didn't buy much stuff for the pantry. Once everything was out of the way I knocked four times on the pantry wall and watched it pop open. I reached in with my right arm and felt the familiar sleekness of the polaroid photos and the roughness of the twine that held them together. I moved my arm up higher and felt the marble of the briefcase that held majority of my trust fund. When I took my arm back I sighed with relief as it gently fell against my thigh.
Liam startled me with him voice,”No one’s here, but it doesn’t look like then took anything.”
I simply nodded along to his words, ignoring them really. All I could focus on was the obscure feeling of violation in my apartment; resisting the urge to sit. I all could think about was what they might have touched, or sat on, or stepped on. Wondering with a never ending uncertainty; and being utterly bothered by the fact that no one would answer my curiosities. It was a feeling that made your eyes want to continuously scatter about in paranoia and never let you sit with your back to the door. I was almost expecting a pair of God’s eyes to appear in thin air. I walked into my bedroom even though Liam had already checked the whole apartment. Something made have a need to look for myself; an unnamed reason that told me to gather what little certainty I had left. I let my hand be light against the cream colored duvet and trail across it as if I were making ripples of water in a lake. Then I felt a piece of something hard underneath the duvet and i swung the covers off, needing for something to clarify this paranoid feeling of mine. Underneath the duvet was a black, steel crossbow along with a set of bolts next to it. A small note had fallen next to my feet with my name written on the front. I picked it up and found myself annoyed by the uninspiring, straight-forward message in smudged handwriting.
Train Station. Good Luck.

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