My building is a mess. Well, considering that there were multiple all out brawls in it in the past three days, I can't really say that it's unexpected. The doorkeeper is gone, and the front doors are unlocked. It seems that management has either given up or has gotten incredibly trusting.
Sections of the lobby are taped off, and the ceiling is cracked in various places. The elevator has been completely blocked off, likely so that the cops could be very careful of everyone that comes and goes. Unfortunately this means that Shelly and I have to take the stairs.
The mess that greets us after our climb makes the lobby look welcoming. Cracks run through the walls and floor, and my door is hanging off of its hinge. As I walk towards my room dust puffs up from under my feet, and the yellow tape that we cross gets into my hair like spiderwebs.
The room in front of me is dark and desolate. There's a pile of rubble from where my bathroom wall was demolished, and various police instruments are still set up, awaiting the detectives' return in the morning. I knock a box over because I feel like it. This is my apartment, after all.
"Alright." I mutter, focusing myself. I have a feeling something bad will happen if I make Shelly wait too long.
So I head down my hallway, opening up the closet doors in front of my bedroom. I grab my suitcase from the floor, unzipping it. You don't realize it when you have two working hands, but suitcases can be kinda hard to open.
Looking into my closet I start picking out all of the essentials. Underwear, bras, socks, all that good stuff. Then I start filling up the rest of the space with all of my favorite clothes. Most of them are various shades of purple. I hesitate for a moment, looking up at the top shelf.
Peeking out over the edge sits a shimmering white dress. It was my mom's wedding dress. It seems like she was actually even shorter than me, so it doesn't fit perfectly... But even still.
"Hey Shelly?" I get her attention. "Can you help me..." I gesture at the top shelf.
Shelly nods at me, pulling the dress down from it. It fills the rest of the suitcase, and I zip it up before deciding to give the apartment one more look over before I head out. Not that there's much to look at with the bathroom destroyed and the living room a mess...
So I push open my bedroom door, half expecting Mold to step out in front of me.
But she doesn't. The room greets me with a perfect stillness, seemingly untouched by all the events of the past days. My bedsheets are pushed up next to the wall from the last time I got up. The top drawer of my dresser is hanging outwards slightly, just like it always does.
Not knowing what exactly it is that I'm looking for, I sit down on my bed. The frame creaks, and I furrow my eyebrows. I shift my weight, and the wood creaks underneath me again.
It doesn't usually do that.
Or maybe... it did during Ragnarök, and I just didn't notice since my mind was somewhere else. I can't remember.
I slip off of my bed, and onto the floor. My arm holds me up as I push myself down, inspecting the bottom of my bed. I'm just glad I was able to do a one-handed pushup back when I still had both of them. Something glitters towards the back wall.
Still on the floor, I swivel around so that my good arm can reach under the bed. I wiggle for a little, stretching out my body until my fingers brush against the trinket. With one more stretch I grab the object, dragging it out into the light.
I flip onto my back, the cold wooden floor pressing up through the tears in my shirt and causing tiny goosebumps to form on my skin. I hold the pair of glasses I found up to the light. There's a piece of paper wedged in between the temple tips and the lenses. Resting the glasses on my chest I pull the piece of paper out, putting it on my stomach before picking up the eyewear again.
YOU ARE READING
Brady Tyson's Walk Along the Precipice
ActionAs the dust settles on the year 2000's Ragnarök, Brady Tyson is dragged into another shadowy plot-this time on the world stage. Will she once again become a player in someone else's game, or will she abandon this noble purpose that clings to her ver...