Runaway

1

The constant noise of the raindrops continued as it poured on to the ceiling and windows. 

Plack. Plack. Plack.

I laid motionless on the hard mattress that occupied a third of the apartment. The rain was still pouring, and I was getting tired of it. I propped myself up and rubbed my eyes. They were dry, and as I rubbed it more, tiny flakes of dead skin attached to my fingers. I sat upright and tried to regain my balance on the uneven floor. Everything was still blurry. I placed my hand flat on to the freezing metallic wall for balance. As I walked towards the bathroom, I kicked away the dirty laundry that obstructed the path. 

"Slowly," I mumbled to myself as I continued along the way. Grabbing on to the handle, I gave it a gentle thrust downwards and the door opened with a slight screech. I flipped the lights on and grabbed my towel. It was still wet from the previous night's use. Turning the water faucet on, I placed my towel under it to collect the water. Nothing came out. Not even a drop of water. Great.

"This is the fifth fucking time! I've paid my bills and I'm getting this shit?" I yelled under my breath. I kicked the trash can in anger and slammed the bathroom door. My fleece hung on a busted metal fastener on the ceiling, swaying back and forth from the momentum that was caused by the bathroom door. I snatched it off and slipped it on. Putting on my boots, I stomped out of the tenement. 

The rain was still pouring down hard, and I mean hard. This was the second time that contaminated rain had reached South-Sector 17 for the whole year. I took out my foldable mask and slipped it on to my face, swinging my fleece hood over my head. Contaminated rain wasn't good for anybody's health. I pulled on my respirator release and felt the purified air rush throughout the insides of the mask. I sighed deeply. Climbing down the rusted ladder, I met the ground with an unsatisfying splash from the collected puddles due to the unevenness of the pavement. Wearing rainboots was a good idea. 

I strolled down the alley, hands in my pocket because who needed them out anyways. I walked to the end of the strip and was met by a run-down looking pharmacy store. Opening the door, there was a lady in her 50s⁠ ⁠— her name was Mrs. Rodriguez. I didn't know her first name nor did I needed to know. 

"Yes, the rent is thirty dollars per month," Mrs. Rodriguez said through the telephone as she tapped on the front desk quietly. "Great! Luckily we have an empty spot today, just for you! Alright, I'll see you at five-thirty." She put down the phone and looked towards me. "Yes, honey?" she asked.

"The water faucet's dead. I paid the bills like normal. This is the fifth time, how am I supposed to live normally if I can't even wash my face?" I said aggressively.

"Now boy, you don't have to stay here. Besides, I have a newcomer today that's going to pay me thirty dollars a month! You can scram, but I can make a compromise."

"What compromise, all the slots are full! You gonna fuckin' leave me out there or something?"

"No, I have a bigger room that⁠—" she cut off as she looked past me and towards the front door. It swung open and a mysterious figure emerged from the rain. It pulled down its hood and took its mask off. It revealed a striking young lady with sleek-black beautiful curls that reached an inch past her shoulders. Her eyes were bright even in the darkness of the room. She smiled at me and walked towards the direction of the desk. 

"And that's her, Ms. Ortiz. Kyra Ortiz. She'll be your roommate starting from today, so I reckon you two should know eachother first," Mrs. Rodriguez smiled. "So Damian, move your stuff from your room to her's please, I wouldn't want my customers to find your porn mags in your cabinet." I blushed as I heard that comment. Who did she know? I turned towards Kyra. Her expression didn't change, as if she accepted the fact that I had such illicit material lying in my room. 

"Nice to meet you, my name is Damian Floyd," I said, offering my hand for her to shake. She shook it with no hesitation. Her firm grasp felt professional and intimate.

"Good thing you're wearing gloves," she said, smiling. I could feel a shot of adrenaline rush inside me. Was it her smile, or was it her statement? Didn't matter. I smiled nervously back at her and removed my hand. 

"You guys done?" Mrs. Rodriguez stared at us respectively, then turning to me. "I need you to move your stuff into her room. Quick." I nodded and headed for the door. Opening it, I expected the rain to be stronger than before. Apparently, it stopped. I threw down my hood and removed my mask. 

"The weather's beautiful," Kyra stated, and I replied a simple "yeah" to her comment. I scaled up the ladder and went up to my room. Before I unlocked the door, Kyra stopped me.

"My room is 14A. Come up when you're ready," she said. I nodded to her comment and unlocked my door. It was still damp and cold like it was before, and I checked the faucet again. Still didn't work. It wasn't my room anymore, so I could care less. Packing up my clothes and necessities, I opened my cabinet and took out the magazines. They were old, from my puberty years. I searched in my fleece pockets for my lighter and took it out. Sparking the lighter, I touched the flame on the end of the magazines and watched the package burst into flames as it slowly disintegrated the paper. A moment later, there was nothing left except for the remains of ash. I grabbed my broom from the cabinet and brushed the leftovers out the balcony and into the streets. Yeah, littering was allowed in Sector 17. Apparently, lots of things were allowed. Drugs, prostitution, Exthalo, heroin, and the usuals that were mostly banned in more economic districts. Carrying my crates of items, I moved out the door slowly and across the balcony. Thank goodness her room was just two rooms across from mine. Funny that I hadn't seen her before too. Knocking the door with my knees, it opened and revealed Kyra in a jumpsuit uniform. I walked in and she closed the door behind her. Setting down my items, she pointed towards an empty space in the corner of the room.

"You're sleeping there," she said. I walked to the spot and took out my roll-out mattress. Pulling on a tag, the mattress inflated until it was full of air. I plopped down and scanned my surroundings. The room was definitely cleaner than the one I lived in. Though it wasn't the type of room I expected a girl to have, it still fit in with her impacting looks. The room felt special.