Burn the Evidence #ONC2023

6| down the rabbit hole

I WALKED THROUGH the crowded lobby, surprised by the volume of people gathered around the front desk. Shelby had told me her apartment number, so I snuck past the desk and walked to the small elevator, hoping I didn't look too suspicious.

People probably just thought I was a weirdo kid.

Though, more likely, they didn't think about me at all. Everyone has something they need to concentrate on in their own lives.

The elevator dinged open, a lattice cage covering the interior of the car. I pulled the cage aside and stepped into the elevator, stopping to hold it open for an elderly woman who walked in behind me. 

"Fourth floor, please, dear," she said, a smile lighting up and increasing the severity of the smile lines around her eyes.

When I grow old, I want to have smile lines. I think that's a sign of a life well lived and time well spent.

I pushed the button for the fourth floor, and then the one for the third floor, the respective buttons lighting up under my touch. I closed the cage and the elevator sprang to life, slowly lifting us up to the third floor of the building.

It was so wonderfully vintage.

"Thank you for letting me on, sweetie," the old woman said, the elevator having just reached the third floor. "Have a blessed day."

I smiled warmly. "You too! Thank you."

I stepped out of the elevator and moved down the hallway, taking in the red carpet that ran down the hallway, the white walls and brown trim, the green doors lining both sides of the hall in even intervals.

The apartment building was definitely themed. 

 I approached the door with the golden 3C marking and knocked, nerves ricocheted through my body.

There was something both terrifying and exciting about following through on my first lead.

There was a hint of guilt, too, for leaving Luke behind, but I shrugged it off, telling myself it was for the best that I was here alone.

Footsteps came towards the door, the sound coming through the dense wood. And then, ever so slowly, Shelby Groves opened the door to her apartment.

She seemed disheveled, but there were undeniable similarities between her and Jamie.

For starters, their skin was the same chocolate brown, the color complementing her brown eyes that were filled with tiny yellow speckles, like dirt filled with gold. Her hair was styled in an afro, a beautiful mess of dark brown curls streaked with red framed her face.

"Hi," I said, not knowing what else to do besides stick my hand out for a handshake. "I'm Ava, from the intercom."

Shelby sighed, and motioned for me to follow her into the apartment, subtly kicking sky-high red stilettos out of the doorway.

I was hit with inexplicable longing to meet this woman outside of somber circumstances. She was probably a really fun person to be around, if the bold and bright color aesthetic of her home gave any indication. The entryway was covered in different paint samples and colorful abstract paintings, and rugs in varying shades of blue covered the floor. She led me to the living area, and I nearly gasped.

It was then I realized that Shelby was an artist.

In the room she had led me to, white canvas covered the floor, coated in splatters of paint. Two canvases rested on easels, one blank and the other halfway finished; a rendering of a tiger in black, white, and red.

It was gorgeous.

"Sorry about the mess," Shelby said, moving the easels to the side. "I wasn't expecting anyone today."