Forced Family 3

O N E

"L is for the way you look Tonight,"

A chilling wind whipped outside the cracked windows of the apartment complex, the thin walls that held little to no insulation harbored the freezing air from the rusting vents that produced an unsettling rattle rather than heat.

On the third floor of the "Hailey" House apartments, the emerald green carpet had snags mixed with cigarette butts littering the ground along with sloshes of vodka that had been spilled as the homeless drunks tottled into the free-access building. 

The corner Store next to it provided most of the drinks, serving half-price once the last round of factory workers had stumbled in with fresh pay stubs to prove they're good for their money.

The soft tune of Nikole's radio sifted throughout the three-bedroom apartment, it's lowered volume balancing the rhythmic ticking of the clock and continuously dripping sink faucet. The vents shake suddenly as a storm brews above in the clouds, a small rumble of thunder overpowers the singing before lightening intensifies the promise of rain.

As another bolt of thunder erupts around the room, Annika jolts upright gasping when the air had left her lungs in surprise. Her fists grip the sheets beneath her in tight wads, coughing to regain control over her breathing.

Once calmed, she sighs placing her hand against her forehead where her index finger feels the thin line of beading sweat in her hairline. Her clothes are uncomfortably twisted and pressed on her thin body. 

The sheets pool at her thighs as she scans the room with weary, sleep ridden eyes. Annika seals her lips to suppress a frown when her forest eyes travel to the mirror on top of the dresser; In her current position, she could see herself, the unbrushed hair, eyeliner caked under her eyes with glistening tear tracks still evident on her cheeks. 

Groaning at her appearance, she lowers her eyes onto her lap seeing the pink scars on her inner thighs. The room brightens at the moment startling her again as lightning highlights the drawlings she had taped to her boring beige walls. 

She rolls her eyes at the supposed "black-out" curtains that were so sheer they couldn't keep the light of the moon out much less lighting bolts; the thinly pressed black curtains that drag her floor as they move freely at the slightest breeze are held to the wall by three brightly colored push pins. Annika prided herself on her innovative thinking.

Removing herself from the bed she winces drawing her foot back once it hit something, a loud crash rings around the room as the tower of books by her bed tumbles over. Holding her breath as she freezes mid-step, Annika counts to ten before exhaling crossing towards the door.

Pulling it open, she scans the barren hallway squinting as her eyes adjust to the dark. A room down with a beaded curtain for a door she can hear her mother's radio playing the scratched CD of Frank Sinatra. It skipped on the song Fly Me To the Moon, replaying the phrase several times over before it continued to the tune of his timeless lyrics.

Bringing her bottom lip between her teeth, Annika debates to return to the safety of her bed or fetch herself a glass of water and run the risk of meeting her mother's boyfriend if he happened to have stayed over that night.

She knew he had left before she went to bed to go visit the corner store, he was always a sucker for the half price pint. He'd even brought Annika some for her birthday this last year.