The wind outside made my window frame shake and rattle in the wall. Some of the wall paper was falling off because of old age and water damage. I have a little red bucket in the back corner, of the small loft apartment, where my roof leaked. My mattress is under the window and I've been trying to sleep for what feels like forever. I check the time on my phone and it's 12:30am. I had gotten home and went to bed 4 hours ago. I roll over and sit up, tossing my phone aside, I stand and readjust my red shorts. I pull my tank-top back over my chest and pull it down. My small frame freezes against the thin walls and strong wind. I grab my blanket from my mattress and wrap it around myself as best I could. I stood in the middle of the apartment and took in my living situation.
The water dripped into the red bucket steadily, and the window continues to rattle. The wind that came in blew the flaps of wallpaper that dangled on their last lives. My door was too small for the frame, there was about two inches of space between the top of the frame and the top of the door. A yellow light leaked through the opening and brightened the back wall. I had a silver rack that I stole from an old wear house that I hung my few outfits on. I had two pairs of black pants, 3 white tank tops, 2 more red shorts, and one grey long sleeve sweater. My light-weight, grey hoodie hung on the door handle. On the back wall, next to the rack, was the door to a very small bathroom.
The door suddenly called my name. As a rush of pee hit the pit of my stomach, I shuffled my feet across the floor to the bathroom. The door made an unpleasant sound as I swung it open. The floor in the bathroom was wet and I wasn't sure why, I'd figure that out after I used the bathroom. I sat down and the relief felt great. I took the last few pieces of toilet paper from my last roll and cleaned myself up with it. I went to flush the toilet and a disgusting noise filled the room and no water went down. Once the noise left the cold air of the room, I realized how quiet the building was. My neighbors are normally up sinfully late, with music on and the smell of weed filling the two rooms next to theirs.
However, I couldn't smell any weed, I didnt hear any music, and the conversation that usually surrounds the whole building was nonexistent. The silence that I had wished for so many times, came out to be something that scared me, not at all what I wanted. I step out of the bathroom slowly, careful to miss any loose floorboards. The wind was the only thing I could hear, the street noise was gone too. As I tried to put together what was going on, I tried to remember if I had heard anything strange while trying to sleep. To no avail, I couldn't bring a single memory into my conscious. Was I knocked out, spared from some horrible act? Why, why would I be spared? I don't know many people, I'm one of the poor rats of New York City that works and sleeps. I don't have time to make friends or enemies.
I walked, slowly, towards the window and I heard my feet squish against the wood because of what I think is the water from the bathroom. I step onto my mattress and the sheet stuck to my foot. I look down to see what it was and my bloody foot print was on my mattress. I look behind me in horror to see the bloody foot steps that trailed from my bathroom to me. The whole bathroom floor was red, it's was a glistening, horrifying, smooth, red.
My knees fell weak and I grab onto the window ledge for balance and reassurance, just to find more blood sticking to my hand. No noise came from my mouth, fear had taken it before I could muster up a scream. I stood there, my hand shaking in-front of my face, mouth catching fly's, and my eyes wide enough to see the whole world. I was scared, I was scared to see the world, to look out the window. To see the horrors that awaited my audience behind the glass.
"What the hell happened?" I managed to strain the question out of my dry throat and continued to look away from the window. Never, never in my life did I think that the streets of New York would be quite, that the bathroom would be full of blood, that my feet would be a sticky red, that my hand would be right where it is now. Never. Never had I thought my home would be gone; Invaded, assaulted, a crime scene, quiet, and bloody.
I'm terrified and don't know where to go. It sounds like everyone's gone. However, if I was spared, maybe a few other people were too. If I cleaned myself up and left, maybe I'd find someone; help. On the flip side of that sweet fairytail, I could find the killer. I'd walk right up to them with hope in my heart, just for it to be killed. Literally.
There are 3 things that I am sure of right now. One; trust is a very dangerous thing to indulge in. Two; my home was gone, unsafe, and invaded. Three; I'm still here for a reason. Someone chose me to still be here.
Gathering up any strength I had I moved my head toward the window. The outside looked more like a morbid horror movie. It looked like all war and chaos was let loose onto New York City. Bodies were on top of bodies. A light fog rolled through and everything outside seemed damp, did it rain? When, when did it rain? I don't remember it raining. Then again, I don't remember much from tonight. I'm aware that I was in my apartment the whole time the murder occurred, but don't remember any of it. Potentially, I was unconscious during the event.
Murder, a murder. Who did they kill? Why isn't there a body in my apartment? I turn away from the window and back to look at my apartment. No body. There's not a single corpse in my apartment but there's blood everywhere. It doesn't make sense but I don't have time to stand still.
I need to get going.
