Night Burn

Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Please note that this work is fictional, and as such, all characters, names, events, actions, incidents, etc., are the product of the author's imagination or are being used fictitiously. While some locations are real, their use in relation to this story is for fictional purposes.

Any parallels drawn to characters or accounts in this story should be considered coincidental, as this work is not intended to represent any known event.

Do not copy this story or publish it on other sites without the author's permission.

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I wake to the sound of my bedroom fan spinning sluggishly through the thick heat trapped on the second floor of my two-story condo. I'm sweating from head to toe, my hair sticking uncomfortably to the back of my neck. I blink a few times and gaze around the spartan bedroom that had never truly felt like mine, my eyes adjusting to the dark space. The only light in the room came from small gaps in a set of cheap blinds covering the solitary bedroom window that overlooked my complex's parking lot.

Turning my head, I see that its 1:57 AM, only a few minutes before my alarm is set to go off. I loose a frustrated groan at being robbed of three more precious minutes of oblivion. Switching off the alarm before it can shatter the last dregs of my peace, I roll off my mattress and onto the floor.

I've lived in this 1,100 sq ft condominium for around ten months with little more than a mattress, three wooden dining chairs (sans the table), a few plastic storage containers, and a television. Upon my arrival in southern Arizona, I'd benefited from my aunt's connections to secure this place at a semi-affordable rate, given its within walking distance of the University of Arizona's main campus.

By walking distance, I mean just over a mile. In most places, that distance wouldn't seem significant, and I'd thought as much when I'd agreed to take my Aunt Cheryl up on the offer prior to having ever been to the area. Now that I've spent a good portion of a year down here, I knew better. That kind of trek in the heat of the desert was brutal, but I couldn't complain. I'm happy to have a place to sleep at night while I finish my degree.

I stagger to my feet and stumble into the adjoining bathroom. Dry toothbrush jammed into my mouth; I squeeze toothpaste directly onto my tongue. The tile feels almost cool under my feet, and I spread my toes as I step back from the sink and drop onto the toilet to relieve myself.

This was all part of an established morning ritual, necessary given the time and my understandably limited energy. My job loading cargo containers five days a week from 3:00 AM until 8:00 AM, made it possible for me to get across town with minutes to spare for either Biology or Native American Lit depending on the day.

Flushing, I step back to the sink and spit the excess foam from my toothpaste into the bowl. As I wash my hands, I stare at my reflection in the dim glow of the motion-censored night light plugged into the wall behind me. With a wet hand, I pull the toothbrush from my mouth and rinse it before splashing my face with water.

These last several months had not been kind to me for many reasons. Being two shades short of albino, the harsh Arizona sun has kept me a constant shade of pink. As a result, I'm sporting a harsher rash of freckles across my nose and shoulders than ever before. I used to be able to ignore them, but it was pretty much impossible now.

With a sigh and a glare at my complexion, I let my toothbrush clatter into its cup and grab a stray hair tie. Running my fingers through the tangles, I pull my shoulder-length mess into a high ponytail. I'm definitely due for a shower, but that can be a problem for later.