New Dawn

Chapter 1 | Stuck in the past

Rays of sun filtered through dusty blinds, hitting the stained wallpaper on the other side of the stale room. Upon the walls, the shadows created vertical prison bars, mocking their observer with their sense of imprisonment.

An old clock hung heavy on the wall, its hands moving in an endless circle as it ticked away. Time had barely made it past noon, yet, what little air that managed to find its way in underneath the window seal was dry and searingly hot. It caused sweat pearls to form upon a frowned forehead, its deep wrinkles brought on by distress.

Fully dressed, a young man lay upon his bed, staring at the wall bleached by sunlight, stained by humanity. Focusing solemnly on the clock's monotone voice, he held hope that it one day would drown out the sound of the music shaking the two story house and the laughs and giggles from downstairs that would turn into threats and roars as the night turned young.

Near lethargic, he watched a shadow dance in a swift motion to the other side of the room before it disappeared into the wall. Meanwhile, something heavy moved up the stairs, banging against the wall as it tried to make it to the upper floor. Footsteps drew closer, nails scratching against the rotten wooden door.

Once again, the clock had betrayed him.

He dug his hands into the bed sheet, knuckles turning white as his heart nearly pounded through his chest. He was not afraid, yet the sense of flight was so deeply rooted within him that he nearly shook.

The hand managed to clasp the door handle, slowly turning it before pushing the door open. A woman, with bleached hair thrown into a messy updo and with bags that hung heavily beneath her blue eyes, stepped through the wooden frame. She carried a beer bottle in one hand, the other pulling down her ridiculously short skirt that, with every new step, threatened to slip up over her hips. Her eyes were smeared with tasteless eyeshadow accompanied by a shot of mascara, finishing of the tacky makeup with a pair of red, overdrawn lips.

When she stepped into the room, a wave of sweat and alcohol followed, mixing unpleasantly with the mold and dust that already hovered in the room. She faltered forward, before the young man had to witness the leopard printed tube on heels sit down on the side of his bed. As she sat down, he sat up, ready to fling his legs over the bedside.

"You got any cigarettes?", she slurred while leaning forward, her irregular gaze piercing his.

He shook his head, eyes fleeing towards the door.

"No? I know you got some, son. At least you got some of that other shit you're hiding", she said and slowly got up on her feet, nearly wavering backwards only to slouch back onto the bed.

Somehow, she maintained her balance with undeniable grace before she wobbled over to the drawer. She put down the bottle of beer, drawer after drawer flying open as she rummaged through piles of clothes shoved into cramped spaces.

"Where is it? I know you're hiding it here somewhere", she said impatiently.

"It's gone", he said and reached for his phone that rested on the nightstand. Before she had turned around, he had slipped it into the back pocket of his jeans.

"My ass it's gone", she said in a voice that told the tale of a thousand cigarettes smoked. "Either you have it, or someone else does. Go and make yourself useful instead of just lying around in this mess of a room."

"Gladly...", the young man muttered as he got up from the bed.

Like a ghost, he moved past the drunk woman and headed towards the door. The smell of her cheap perfume blended with the alcohol vaporizing through her pores. A backpack leaned against the wall, and as he bent over to pick it up, he forced himself to hold his breath.