D for Depression [Mature]

Chapter 19: Hunt

''We are here.''

The taxi driver announces, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

I hum quietly staring at the view outside the window.

Shit. Is this real?

''Um...are you sure we are in the right place?'' I ask hesitant.

''Yes girl. I already told you it is a weird neighborhood. Did you change your mind? Because I can turn around, although I'm going to charge you the double.''

I check the address on my phone.

This is where Isaac leaves according to Bob.

Now I understand why he didn't want me to come alone.

I promised I was going to wait for him but well, I was never good on keeping promises.

''No, I-I'll get off.''

''In that case chop chop. I don't have all day.'' He says impatient to leave this place.

I'm not blaming him.

''Thanks.'' I whisper, giving his payment.

The taxi drives off and I stand in the middle of the road.

Looking around me, I try to take everything in.

This is the first time I've been to a place like this. I never thought that I lived a privileged life, until now.

I guess Bob was right. I am a rich kid in addition to this.

And I'm sure everybody looking at me right now, thinks the same.

The neighborhood consists of really old buildings, some of them abandoned and probably used as roofs for homeless or drug addicts.

On the other side of the road, there are houses full of damages. Broken windows, destroyed fences, dirt and trash all around.

People are standing outside smoking or drinking, looking at what seems to be the highlight of their day.

A spoiled white kid, going downtown thinking she is hard.

Well I would laugh with myself too.

Taking a deep breath, I find the courage to move from my spot.

I cross the road heading to one of the old buildings. A couple of people sitting on the pavement give me a side eye.

I know, I know...

I look away searching for his name in the intercom.

No luck.

Suddenly the entry open and a tall plus really drunk guy, makes his appearance.

He doesn't spare me a glance before he walks out, holding a bottle with alcohol.

I move aside, to let him pass and take the opportunity to get inside the building.

Good. Now there is one little problem. I've no idea in which floor he lives.

I decide to take the stairs and walk through the corridors.

This place reminds me of the so called Projects. I learned about them a few years back, when a girl from my school lived there.

After a couple of minutes wandering around, I decide to text Bob and ask him.

There is no point in hiding right now.

Before I had the chance to grab my phone, I hear talking and a door in the end of the hallway opens.