Anxious

Chapter 1: Her

She turned down the alley next to the corner house. She had done this a few times in the last month. She knew what she was doing now. She knocked twice on the back screen door, followed by four brief knocks as per prior instruction. When she heard an older woman say, "What'll it be today, sweetheart?", she jumped back and almost let out a scream.

She heard the figure snicker and then waited patiently for Leslie to find her voice. "You have blues or bars?" she asked hoarsely. She was surprised the words even came out.

"Bars tonight, sweetie. Five bucks a piece."

Leslie spoke to the ground, "Four, please."

She handed one crisp bill to the silhouette and it handed her a small bag. She stuffed it in her pocket and walked casually away while attempting to mutter a thank you. The words never left her lips. She wanted to run home but knew that would look far too suspicious. So, she walked as fast as she could without drawing any attention to herself.

She had gotten the connection from a lady at work, she hated going there, but it was the only way she was even able to make it at work lately. The pills made her calm, made the irrational fears fade, made her just not care. Normally she CARED, worried to death, about EVERYTHING. She just kept getting worse, so she just kept buying the pills. She could probably get a prescription for them if she could muster the courage to go to the doctor. Leslie knew that would never happen.

She approached her apartment complex, walked through the rough, iron gate, and then down the stairs. She entered the hall containing the basement apartments. Hers was D4 and it was farthest in back. She loved this. She loved being away from everyone.

She heard her cat, Cinnamon, jump off the counter as she slipped her key in the lock. Sure enough, as she opened the door, there was her extremely fat, light and dark orange, fluffy, hairball cat rubbing her legs to greet her.

He circled her a few times before running to his empty food bowl and looked to her with longing in his eyes. "Oh, I'm not that late," she claimed and reached into the cabinet for his dry food.

She poured him a bowl and he rubbed her hand appreciatively. She rinsed and refilled his water bowl then, grabbed her bottle of Merlot from the fridge. She wanted the pills, but she would need them tomorrow, so tonight, the wine would have to do.

Cinnamon finished his dinner as she finished the dishes. Pouring herself another glass, she sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. She never really watched it, it was more for comfort noise. Her fat cat jumped into her lap and began to purr. Leslie petted him fondly while checking her Facebook and e-mail. Someone from work had tagged her in a picture. She hated when they did that. She barely even had any pictures of herself on the site, and none were in the last year. She didn't like looking at herself.

She was too thin, and judging by this new photo, she was getting thinner. Her hair, long and light brown was forever a stringy mess, even when she brushed it, or tried to pull it back. She could tell it was thinning too by the clumps of hair in her bathtub drain and hairbrush. Her eyes were intense. Even though they were actually dark brown, they looked black. Her skin was way too pale, her lips were thin and constantly felt chapped and dry. She was average height but habitually slouched, making her appear quite shorter.

She hadn't always looked this way. She used to be healthy, she used to stand tall, she used to smile. Smiling hurt her face now, her frown felt satisfying so she left it there often.

She knew she hadn't been eating right, or at all for that matter. It wasn't that she didnt want to, she just couldn't. All foods tasted like cardboard lately, and wouldn't break down in her dry mouth; ironic for a 26 year old in her profession. She usually ate crackers throughout the day, that she kept in her purse. Not much more than that, unless she had taken the pills. They made her eat without even knowing or remembering it.

She thought about them again, just sitting in her pocket. Her stomach growled in response. Cinnamon had curled up by her foot on ther rug. "Half of one tonight, right Cinny? Just half to settle down," she asked her cat who didn't even look up.

She pulled out the small bag, grabbed one, and broke it in half. They were benzos, commonly referred to as "bars" and had the effect of a Xanax. She popped the half in her mouth and swallowed with the last sip of wine. Another thing she knew she needed to cut out, especially with the pills. She refused. She needed her nightly wine.

Leslie untagged herself from the picture online and got up to refill her glass. Cinnamon gave her a half growl for disturbing him. "Well excuse me, your Highness", she joked. The wine was starting to cloud her brain. It felt pleasant after a long day. Wasn't every day long any more?

She sat back down on her blue and brown polka dotted sofa. She adored the couch, she had picked it out herself at Sears. Of course, Cinnamon adored it also, It was covered in long orange cat hair. Leslie didn't care, she loved her overgrown feline.

Cinnamon was just 7 weeks old when a co-worker brought in a litter to give away. He was the last of five kittens and the runt. No one was going to take him and her co-worker couldn't bring him back home. She agreed reluctantly, her landlord openly allowed tenants to have any kind of pet they wanted as long as they didn't cause a disruption. This little guy looked sad and scared when Leslie looked into his barely opened eyes. She fell in love right in that moment.

It was almost 3 years ago now, she couldn't believe it had been that long. They were best friends. My only friend. Tears stung her eyes. She grabbed him up. He minded, but didn't put up a fuss. She cried into him, just for a minute, then set him back down. She got back on her laptop to goof around. The wine and pill had a lovely effect.

She thought about her job. It was a good job, payed the bills plus some. She didn't particularly like her co-wokers, but she didn't particularly like anyone. They were a hyper bunch, who all worked together to run a small diner. She had been working there for 5 years. She liked doing what she was doing. Leslie was their cook, and she was damn good at it too. She had gone to 2 years of Culinary School before Papa Moe's found her. They didn't care if she had schooling or not, her food was superb.

She stumbled to grab a bag of chips from the cabinet and made it back to her computer. She scanned the inbox of her e-mail: coupons, spam, contests, bill notifications, weekly subscriptions; nothing out of the ordinary. There was that one message that she had read 2 weeks ago. The one that she should have deleted, but just couldn't. It frightened her. She shoveled the cheddar chips in her mouth and decided to open it again. It was from HIM:

Hey doll. It's me. Found your email. Didn't think I could huh?

Stay on your toes doll. I'm thinking we need a face to face chat very very soon.

Miss you.

Leslie felt a chill climb up her spine and she shuttered. "Why hasn't he made an appearance yet?!" she screamed at the ceiling. 

He knows what he's doing. This way. Making me weak. Why does he have to do this to me? She threw herself into her pillow on the couch and the tears poured out. This time Cinnamon jumped up to her and curled up by her head. They slept all night this way, just like every other night.