Concrete Tower

Untitled Part 1

It was your average spring day in the town of Deadhorse, Alaska. I wanted to run to the store for my cigarettes. I looked around my room to find my black hoodie, but there were clothes everywhere. The clothes were on the floor, the bed and that chair I swore I was going to use when I was on my laptop at my desk. But I was wrong that chair turned into my extra big shelf. My hardwood floors were covered so you couldn't see them anymore. My depression has taken over my life. The dark cloud is over my head in more ways than one. I think that I should be better after years of therapy and meds, but I am not better if anything I am worse. I finally turned over the right clothing pile that held my old "You Me at Six" hoodie. Once, I threw that on I walked out into my living room. I lived alone, but that only just started when my best friend moved out. I grabbed my old moccasins and my keys to leave.

As I shut the front door, I heard neighbors chatting around the corner. I wasn't a person for conversation, so I made a beeline to the side stairwell. I didn't live in a very nice apartment complex. Once in the stairwell, my anxiety started to subside. I lived on the 5th floor, so I still had 5 flights to walk down. I pulled out my phone to see if anyone texted me within the last 5 minutes. Nothing. Should have figured that much. I put it in my pocket and started back down the steps. I did not want to take the elevator, so I kept going. I was about 3 flights down when I heard a lot of yelling a flight or two above me. When I looked up through the floors. I couldn't see anything but the concrete stairs and metal roof above me. I heard boot steps hammering down the stairs like a nail gun echoing in my head. My heart started to thunder in beat with the boots. I didn't want to get stuck in the crossfire of whatever bad was coming.

I ducked into the service door that was near my left shoulder as I backed into the corner. Once I had my back safely against the cool steel door, I let out the breath I was holding. I strained to hear what the men were saying through the door. She was able to catch bits and pieces before they speed down the next flight of steps.

"We can't... Body... Call... No... Yes... Shut up... Let's go..." There were too many voices to understand. But I keep myself in the closet for a few more minutes before I sighed and opened the door. Into the cool air that was coming down from the HVAC system in the 4th floor wall. She decided to go back up the stairs to see what they were talking about. She walked up another flight to see an ash blonde head lying in the corner closest to the stairs. The body that should have been connected to the head lay motionless on the stairs awkwardly. I couldn't contain my nausea, so I ended up throwing up my coffee "breakfast" over the railing. Shit, now when the cops come they are going to find my bile all over the place. I started to run down the stairs towards the lobby. One flight left to go and I looked back behind me. I did just out of habit knowing there was nothing or no one, but to my surprise, there were footprints on the ground.

I stopped immediately. I walked over to the concrete stairs, crouched down for a closer look, yet the pattern was not that of a converse size 7. I felt my lungs expand in their ivory cage. The feeling of the rising and falling was a comforting feeling. I have thought of ending my life a few times maybe more than I'd like to admit. Yet, seeing that man on the stairs with no option left but to be swallowed by death had me thinking. I think that I do not want to die, yet. I was interrupted by a scream up the stairs. I was panicking even more now, and I was sweating rivers under my arms and into my palms.

As I looked around the small stairwell, I saw the pale-yellow light coming in from the emergency door exit. I could feel the emotions of shock, anger, disgust, and astonishment levitating around the concrete prison. My heartbeat has become a full brass band playing a 12 song set in my ears. I was shaking when I returned to my standing position. My vision had not returned to because of my tears. I felt my throat getting dry as I was backing away from the stairs until I felt the rough touch of something on my arm. I screamed as loud as I could, but all that came out was a ragged burst of hot air. I was scrambling back until there was cool steel behind my back. I didn't know how far the door was from where I was. I was crying harder and I couldn't hear any of the commotions that was going on before.

I didn't realize I somehow got myself through the door for the lobby. I ran, ignoring all the murmurs and stares, to the bathrooms until I was able to lock the door of the stall. I was sobbing at this point. I heard a loud knock at the stall door. How did I not hear the door? I screamed then put my hand over my mouth. I looked at the ground, boots, I started shaking again. I wish I had just gone downstairs. I needed to stay quiet, maybe it wasn't the men that ran down the hollow steps, maybe it was a coincidence.

"Nat, I need you to come out, right now." a man whispered. I whimpered I didn't want him to know that it was her in there. How did they know my name? Was this someone that lived on my floor? I was trying hard to keep my composure. I was failing.

"Get your ass out here before I kick the door down," he said. I could feel the violence vibrate off my now hollow body.

"She's not coming out, Ed. Let's just leave her."

"No, we don't know what she saw or heard. We need to take care of her." Ed, I assume, said.

"I...I...I... didn't...nothing..." I started to sputter. I couldn't make coherent sentences. My nerves were shot. My eyes were red and raw from the salt daggers falling from my eyes.

"Fuck you, Nat."

In a millisecond, the door was kicked in and her security wall was obliterated. I felt my soul leave my body as I tried to disassociate myself with the situation. Emotions, gone. Energy, gone. Myself, gone. I was grabbed like a doll off the toilet and gagged. I still wondered how they would get me out of there without anyone noticing or stopping them. I just kept thinking all I wanted was a cigarette. Curiosity killed the cat they say, and today the cat was me.