Left. Right. Left. Right. Duck. Dodge. I bolted through the alleyways of 43rd street, looking for a fence to jump over or a dumpster to dive in. Sirens blared behind me, but I wasn't focusing on that. Or the shouting. Or the sound of my feet pounding the wet pavement below me. No, I was focused on the only person that mattered to me. My mother. She needed me right now. I had to get to her.
I was met at the end of the alleyway by a wire fence. Bingo. I slung my backpack over my head and past the fence and followed suit then turned a sharp left. I was almost there. My heart beat steadily in my chest as my eyes scanned the street in front of me for my familiar scapegoat. I looked up and saw a rustic ladder leading into an old apartment. The sirens were getting louder and louder by the second. I made a split second decision and leaped up to grab the ladder. I grunted, using all of my upper body strength to grip my metal lifeline. I peered down, against my better judgement, to see the brilliant NYPD officers pass by right below me. I was home free. For now.
My exhausted body collapsed on the metal balcony connected to the apartment building. I was breathing heavily and my body was shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, but it was a high I was used to. It was late in New York City. No cars were honking and no angry yelling was present in the streets. For a moment, everything actually seemed calm in the city that never sleeps. I peered to my left, now gazing through the window of an apartment bedroom. It was small, modest. Old pictures and movie posters were scattered across the room's white walls. No one appeared to be inside. I rattled the window's door, hoping it would be unlocked.
Click.
"Yes," my voice was muffled by the mask covering my face. I did my best to weasel into the room without making a sound. This wasn't my first rodeo. I knew to step lightly on each floor board in order to avoid making a single noise. I exhaled heavily in relief. Finally. I was home.
