I'm on the second floor, unit three. Taking the key from my pocket, I pull the front door open. The door swings out fast, slamming against the wall. It crashes loudly, causing my shoulders to jerk up to my ears.
Reaching out, I grip the handle and close the door behind me as I step inside. Standing in the entryway, the light flickers on and off as it buzzes like a bug zapper at night.
I'm smacked in the face with the scent of damp basement. It reminds me of my grandmother's attic back home. It's musty, the air is warm and thick, and it's a little hard to breathe.
Gripping the railing, it's sticky against my palm. I let go quickly and wipe my hand on my thigh. The stairs creek, rocking under my feet as I climb them to the second floor.
This is how most horror movies start. . .
I half expect a murderer to step out from around the corner with a chainsaw. I stop on the stairs as my anxiety flares, but quickly laugh it off. I'm being ridiculous. This is the life of a someone starting out at the bottom.
I'm here with nothing but hope. Hope that I'll be able to make some money with my music. Hope that people will enjoy my voice. Hope that I'll be in the right place at the right time, and this will all be worth it in the end.
It doesn't matter where I am, or what this place looks like, I'm here. This is all that matters. I'm here. In Nashville! And I'm thankful I've made it this far. Leaving home was the first step, now it's time to build new bridges.
Unlocking my door, I push it open. It isn't any better inside the apartment than in the hallway. The wallpaper is peeling away like dead skin, and there are cracks through the plaster in the ceiling. The smell of basement is replaced with sour, old food. A stained, tan carpet covers the floor in the living room, the linoleum in the kitchen is lifted and some squares are missing completely.
There's a worn blue couch against the wall, and a small coffee table that's leaning to one side. The kitchen is directly off the living room, with a porcelain sink, and a small fridge. The veneer countertops are peppered with burn marks, and a few of the cupboard doors are hanging off.
Dropping my stuff on the floor, I make a few more trips back and forth to my car to grab the rest of what I brought. Sweat is beading up on my forehead, and I'm exhausted as I set a box of dishes on the counter. Wiping the back of my wrist across my forehead, my phone buzzes in my pocket.
Pulling it out, it's my sister Nina. “Hey, you're still up? Isn't it past your bedtime?”
“Ha ha,” she says, giggling. “Are you there? Did you make it okay?”
“Yeah, I actually just got here.”
“Aw, I miss you already, Hay.” Nina sighs loudly, and I can picture the pout on her face.
“It's been half a day, Nina, you saw me before I left. Stalker much?”
“I know, I know, it's just. . . who am I going to talk to now when I need to vent about Dean? Hm?”
“Me. I'm only a phone call away. You're acting like I moved to a new planet or something.”
“You might as well have.” She chuckles. “So, how is it? How's the apartment?”
Looking around at the old and weathered room, I say, “It's pretty good, a little touch of Heather, and it'll be home.”
I lie. I know if I tell her it looks like a scene from The Shining, she'll come and bring me home.
“Good, I'm glad.”
“How's Mom?” I ask. Resting the phone between my ear and shoulder, I sort through some of the boxes.
“You know Mom, she's doing her normal, “shit don't bother me attitude.””
“Yeah, I know how she gets. She did the same thing when you went to camp for a month, and when you moved in with Dean.”
“Yeah, she's not one to act vulnerable.” Nina laughs again, then sighs into the receiver. “All right, well I just wanted to make sure you got there okay. I'm sure you have a lot to do.”
“Thanks, Nina. I'm really tired, it's been a long day.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up. Plopping onto the couch, I lay my head back. I know I should clean this entire couch before ever sitting on it, but I need to sit down. My eyes are heavy, and it's getting hard to keep them open.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Jerking upright, I'm startled awake. There's a fog covering my brain, and I'm trying to grasp where I am, and what's going on.
Boom! Boom! Boom! The pounding on the door rattles the light fixture above my head.