Ashton
I ran as fast as I could down 4 flights of stairs and towards the lobby where Marcus looked at me weirdly.
I shrugged him off before speeding towards the key compartment and opened the drawer for door number 129.
"Ashton, what are you doing?" Marcus questioned catching in to my worried demeanour.
"I have no time to speak" I mumbled grabbing the keys. Just as I was about to run off, Marcus wrapped his stubby fingers around my wrist.
"Is it that girl again? Ashton, I told you before, stay away from her. God knows what she could do, she could damn well be out of her mind," he scowled.
"Listen Marcus, my job was to look out for people and give them help, so I'd appreciate it if you let me get to work" I snapped pulling my wrist out of his grasp and stalking into the open lift.
I pressed the number 5 as the doors began to shut, just as the doors were about to close fully, it reopened and an elderly couple came walking in.
"God damnit" I mumbled clicking my knuckles with the palm of my hand.
"Second floor please" the man smiled at me.
"Sure thing sir" I let out a shaky breath as I played around with the ring on my index finger. Agitatedly, I tapped my converse clad feet on the ground, making a soft tapping noise which echoed through the silent lift.
After what seemed like an eternity, the doors opened on the fifth floor as I flew out down the corridor and towards door number 129. My hands shook as I unlocked the door and stood there with my hand resting on the door knob.
This girl hasn't left her room in 5 years, god knows what state the room will be in, I know for sure my room gets messy in about an hour and doesn't get clean till my mother yells at me to do so.
I pushed open the door. The burgundy carpet looked hard and outdated, the wallpaper was peeling off. There was papers on the floor and in the distance I could see papers filling up a wall in front of an old wooden table. The bed was unmade, it didn't have a warm duvet, but just a thin white sheet. The black curtains were drawn, but was waving in the air from the open window. The room was cold, too cold. I could see smoke forming with my deep breaths.
Just then a cough was heard from what I assumed was the bathroom. Dodging everything on the ground, I sped towards the bathroom.
There with her head hovering over the toilet seat, was a girl. She had long, jet black hair and her skin was, as Charlotte Brontë once said "pale as a white stone."
I made my way around the obstacles of clothes on the floor before grabbing a fist full of her hair and pulling it away from her face.
With a jump as moves away, staring at me with pure fear.
I could only think of one thing.
I have never seen anything more fragile.
