Playing With Fire || d.h

1. First things First

Your POV

I wake up to the sound of banging on my door, and immediately sit straight up. I look to my nightstand, and make out the fluorescent green numbers blinking on my alarm clock. 6:23. Shit.

I jump to my feet, only for the sound of knocking on my door to resume. "I'm up!" I yell, my morning voice cracking. I hear footsteps stomp back down the hall as I search in my closet for a clean shirt. I throw on a crew neck, black leggings,  and my white high top converse. Or rather, they were white when I got them three years ago.

Today's going to be one of the most important days of my life. And I still manage to wake up late. I adjust my hair in the mirror, while I hear my mom slam the boot of the car shut. She really needs to stop being so aggressive to inanimate objects.

Well it's probably better for it to be an inanimate object, rather than me.

I rush down the stairs and out of my house, my messenger bag banging sporadically on my hip. I nearly trip on the curb as I reach the passenger side of the car, opening the door and slipping into the leather seat.

"London, here we come," my mom puffs, throwing herself into the driver's seat beside me and turning the keys in the ignition. "I could be sleeping right now."

"You know I could've driven myself," I say for the thousandth time. It's not like we haven't had this conversation before.

"Yeah, but knowing you, you'd end up robbing a bank, driving the car into a lake, and taking a plane to Antarctica," she replies, backing out of our driveway.

I sigh, knowing there's no way I'll get anywhere in this argument. As I watch the familiar suburban houses pass me by for the last time, I know I should be at least a little sad, but the only thing I feel is relief. I've been planning my escape from this stupid town for as long as I remember. I've had to go everyday passing the buildings, roads, and back allies where some of my worst memories went down. But now, that's all they are. Memories. I can finally start over.

I pass out, my ear pressed against the window. Before I know it, we're pulling into the parking lot of a white cement apartment complex. "Well, this is it. I'm sure you have it from here," my mom says, smiling at me. Without even glancing at her, I step out of the car, open up the boot, and pull out the single suitcase I had packed. It wasn't that I was a light packer, as much as it was I considered part of restarting was not having anything to remind me of the life I was leaving behind. As I walked to the sidewalk, I turned around and waved goodbye one last time to my mom. Not to my surprise, she was already pulling out of the parking lot, not even looking at me. I watch her disappear into the distance, then turn to the translucent double doors of the apartment. Well, this is it.

I open the doors, and find myself in a bland lobby. There's a couple overstuffed couches, a wooden coffee table that's seen better days, a few dreary plants. I sigh, then walk up to the front desk.

"How can I help you?" Comes an oily voice from a bald man sitting at an ancient computer.

"Um... my name's (f/n) (l/n). I'm a new resident," I explain, hoping he can't hear my voice shaking. I let go of the handle of my luggage, and start scratching at my forearm, a nervous habit.

"Ah, yes," he drawls, not looking up from his computer. "Gimme a mo', and I'll lead you to your place." After a few awkward seconds of him continuing to type, he finally gets up from his computer, and grabs a key chain off his desk. I watch as he exits out of a door to his right, and see him appear in the hallway next to me, as he motions for me to follow him.

I silently follow him up staircase after staircase, not able to think of how to break the awkward silence. Finally, he stops abruptly at a white door with chipped paint, and pulls the keychain back out of his pocket.