If We Survive The Night

Haven

Casey

Jaden parks the car by a long apartment complex on a street that's unfamiliar to me. There're lights in some of the windows, and occasional cars pass by, but I can't see any people outside, which is good. Jaden pulls up the arm brake, then twists to look for something in the back seat. He's ignoring me completely, but since he's apparently honoring my request to take me to his home, I wait patiently. My face feels puffy after crying, and my knee hurts, no matter how I place my leg. For now, I try to keep it as straight as the space in front of the passenger's seat allows.

"There." He settles back into his seat, throwing something in my lap. I pick it up—some kind of an oversized hoodie. "Put this on."

I sniff at the fabric, which smells like dust and a few other suspicious things.

"Thanks, I'm not cold," I say.

"Put. This. On."

He fixes me with a dark, angry glare, as if I were to blame for this whole situation. Reluctantly, I begin to pull on the hoodie. He probably just wants me concealed, so it's in my best interest, anyway. Supporting that theory, he reaches out and pulls the hood over my head, pulling at its strings until it covers most of my face. I probably look like Kenny from South Park now.

He glances down at my bare feet and wrinkles his nose.

"Crap." He starts turning to the back seat again, then pauses. "Nah, I got nothing for that. Let's just go. Try not to step on glass."

He exits the car, and I follow. It feels somewhat reassuring, him acting so in control. I guess I needed this, someone telling me what to do, because I've never felt this lost in my life.

The pavement is cold and rough under my feet. The only place outside my home where I walked barefoot was the beach, and having no shoes on in the middle of the city feels weird. In the weak light from the streetlamps, I see faded squares and numbers on the sidewalk under my feet—a hopscotch game.

Jaden's car lock beeps. Then he grabs my arm, his grip painfully strong.

"Move," he snaps.

Pretty much everything he said to me tonight sounded like snapping, but I can't really blame him. I just follow as he pulls me toward the dark entryway with stairs leading up.

As we step inside, onto the cracked tiles of what apparently passes for a lobby here, sharp pain shoots through the sole of my right foot. I stop, sucking in air, and wrench my arm from Jaden's grip. I lean on the wall, balancing on one leg, and check my hurt foot. My fingers find a small piece of glass sticking out of it. Pushing down nausea, I carefully pull it out and toss it aside.

"Told you not to step on glass," Jaden hisses. "I've literally just told you that."

"I can't see a damn thing," I hiss back.

I feel him reach out, and something clicks, a switch or something, but the stairwell remains dark.

"The lamp's dead again," he says. "Come on, just follow me. Three floors. You can make it."

I limp after him, trying my best to see where I put my feet. With my knee, my ankle, and now the cut hurting, I feel like a complete wreck, moving with all the elegance of a zombie. Every flight of stairs is marked by a small window, so it's not completely dark, but there's still not enough light to see if I'm about to step onto something sharp or dangerous or just nasty. I go slowly, gradually falling behind, and soon I can't see Jaden ahead of me. I hear him unlock the door somewhere above me, and pause, suddenly afraid to be left alone.

"Hey!" I call out.

"Hush!" He flips on the light in his apartment. Some of it spills into the stairway, and now it's easier to see where I'm going. I finally reach his open door—blindingly bright now that my eyes have adjusted to the dark—and limp inside.