run as fast as you can [h.s.]

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I stare at the black and white dream catcher that floats above my bed soaking up the demons that travel my mind as I sleep. The nimble object sways from the draft coming in through the bedroom window. The darkness blankets the entire room, and I like it that way as I drag the blade across my slight wrist.

*

Lifting my head ever so gently, I feel a stinging sensation coursing through my entire left arm. It's nice, like proof of something more.

I roll over on my grey sheets trying to pull my body off of the double mattress. I sleep on the left side, leaving the right forever cold. My toes retract from the feeling of the cool wooden floor as I hear my duvet calling me back to lay in it's depths.

I lay there thinking about the way the stubble danced across his face. His face, it disgusts me, yet I am head-over-heels for it. My memory turns over pages and pages of the time we spent together, time I would never get back. His jet-black hair flopping over his forehead and into his eyes as he laughed like he had seen a kitten sneeze for the first time. His hand wrapped around my own as we strolled through the autumn leaves. He would look at me like he couldn't see anything else.

A tear escaped my eye as I jerked away from the nostalgic moment. I stood from the bed, no longer worrying of the cool feeling on my feet, as I knew my heart was colder.

I felt around for the light switch on the far side of the room, stubbing my toe on the desk chair in the process. The light broke through the small bulb that hangs from a cord in the ceiling, illuminating the glum room.

My bedroom is a mess of old book piles from when my bookshelf broke over a year ago and an old oak desk and chair with a matching bed. The top of my bed sits in the ruins of an old chimney, the red bricks that formed some of which looms above it. On the wall my desk faces, an old world map is pasted.

Opening the door I am welcomed into a long, empty hallway which I follow along until I reach an opening on the right containing an open-plan dining room, kitchen and living room which are again; empty. Further down the hall on the left is my roommate's bedroom door and further along on the right is the bathroom. Upon entering I peel off my nighty and climb into the shower.

Showers give me a place to think. It's where I make a solution to that moment's dilemma.

Gen, my roommate has already left for classes and I am left standing idly by the front door in the large white sweater, black skinny jeans and black boots that I wear most days.

Leaving the house is exceedingly hard for me. Everyday I talk myself up, and most days I fail and stay home watching movies. I overthink every little detail of everything I do and it gets to the point where all I can do for hours on end is curl up in a ball on the floor of my room and stare at the wall.

The door looms in front of my figure and I muster up the courage to turn the door handle. The air outside is crisp and my boots crunch over the lawn due to the frost caressing the blades of grass like they're best friends.

I don't have a car because I can't keep a job long enough to pay for anything that isn't my part in the flat, which my mother pays for, anyway, so I walk the distance to the bus stop around the corner.

Only a young child sits on the bench next to the stop - uncomfortably, I observe. All other four of us stand. I shift from foot to foot, hoping no one decides they want to start a conversation with me.

The bus darts around the corner at an alarming speed, considering these icy conditions, and comes to a stop in front of us. We all pile on, me being shoved once or twice in the process. I show the large bus driver my bus card and move to the back of the bus.

My résumé is stuffed under my arm as I shuffle into the crowded DVD rental store.

"You must be here for the job," a girl with short, black hair and piercings lining her ears and parts of her face says, placing her crossed arms on the counter and resting her chin in.

The counter is placed next to the door, and straight ahead are the shelves of DVD's.

"Ah, yes," I stutter out, "Who can I speak to about employment?" I move my weight from foot to foot and look at the ground.

The girl mumbles something and I can't quite catch it. Looking up I see her staring dead at me.

"You look like a lost child," she remarks. My mouth opens slightly, but I don't know what to say.

Walking around the counter, the girl slaps her hand on my shoulder and manoeuvres me towards a door at the back.

"Don't be nervous, you'll get the job. Nobody else wants it," and with that she turns the door handle gives me one last slap on the shoulder and closes the door behind me.

"Well, who do we have here?" A man with black hair styled into a quiff questions from behind a desk, his feet on it's top and hands behind his head.

"Mel, sir, Mel Mossman," I squeak, the man in front of me lets out a deep laugh and gets to his feet.

He walks toward me and with his hand outstretched he says, "I'm Zayn, just call me Zayn,"

I politely laugh, already feeling more comfortable.

"So, I should guess you are here for employment,"

"I am, I brought my full résumé-"

"I'll go take that sign out of the window, now, shall I?" Zayn interrupts.

"But I haven't even given you a reason to hire me,"

"Do you have a criminal record?" Zayn questions.

"No, but I may not be fully qualified for-" I ramble, now nervous to accept the new job.

"Shh," Zayn puts his index finger to my lips, looking into my eyes, "Do you steal?" He says, stepping away like nothing happened and I am left flustered.

"No," I try to act as nonchalant as he is being.

"Are you a virgin?" His question catches me off guard and I stumble into him.

Zayn roars with laughter, doubling over in the act. I stand awkwardly, red in the face.

Zayn slaps my shoulder just like the girl did, "Relax, Mel, I'm kidding," I avoid his eyes, "To be honest, all you need for this job is a sense of humour and you're sweet," I give him a slight smile and he continues, "See you are well on your way,"

Leading me out of his office, arm swung around my shoulders, we walk up to the counter where the girl sits.

"Now, you see, I reckon, she hasn't even introduced herself yet, Mel," Zayn says looking into the girl's eyes, knowing she hasn't. The girl stares back at Zayn before turning to me.

"Ah, Mel, you do look like a 'Mel'," she says, "Long brown hair, brown eyes. Yes she's definitely a 'Mel'," she smiles, "Well, Mel, I'm Frankie, and don't name me otherwise,"

"I'll try," I joke, smiling.

"Ah, she has a sense of humour!" Zayn applauds, briefly slapping me on the back, "Well, you should be heading off, you do have work in the morning," Zayn says, winking.

I stare back, slightly shocked, "Really?"

"Really. Now get going."

"Thank you so much," I say as I'm walking out the door into the cold.