A Day of Ruin

The City of Maxwell looked beautiful in the dark. The lights illuminated the tall buildings and sparkled with the promise of life. There was something about the chaos that settled me.

When I was younger, my favorite time of day used to be the early morning sunrises, but now it was the dark. The lights gave just enough false sense of security to make it all look magnetic, but the fact was the darkness hid the flaws. Everything was blanketed in the darkness, the rough edges hidden under wraps. Monsters could hide out of sight, blending into the masses as they set their sights on new targets.

James Maxwell founded the city some 150-odd years ago. Of course back then, it was only dirt and dreams – a shithole in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. Old Jimmy built it up, and through the generations investors came for a piece of the pie, meeting with the founding father’s family as the city keys were passed down through legacy. Now it was a miniature pocket of skyscrapers, apartments and businesses. On the outer circle of the city, suburban houses lined the streets, the shrubbery greener than St. Paddy’s day on steroids.

As I stepped out of Dr. Thomas’ building, I took in a deep breath, the smell of fuel, ozone emissions, and cigarettes sending a calming chill down my body. I could feel stares on me and my eyes found the off-white sidewalk as I started making my way downtown.

The crowds were still thick, the last of the city workers leaving for the day. The street bars were packed, the sounds of shouts and happy chatter echoing on the sidewalk as everyone prepared for the weekend.

I squeezed past a handful of people who had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to chat, sucking my stomach in as I tried to avoid physically touching them. I sighed out loud without realizing, my hand rubbing my little pocket belly. Like most these days, I was not stick thin. I was an average, everyday, 26 year old woman. I had a decent hourglass figure which I loved sometimes, and hated others. Big boobs, a somewhat smaller waist, but an ass and thighs that told the world I liked food and I had no idea how to squat properly. I called my thighs Bonnie and Clyde, because they always stuck together.

I had inherited my mother’s freckles and caramel brown hair. My blonde highlights were due for a touch up and I made a mental note to try to remember to book an appointment to see Janice, my hairdresser. I could try to do my own bleach, but after a disastrous, way-too-confident experience in my teens when I lost all my hair after bleach fried my little locks which caused them to snap off, I was not keen on turning up to work next week looking like Uncle Fester.

“Watch out, you bitch!” someone snarled, ripping me out of my thoughts before a shoulder rammed into my back. I spluttered, the air whooshing out of my lungs as I stumbled forward.

Christ on a stick.

My hands slammed onto metal as I caught myself on the nearest building. I turned sharply, my eyes narrowing at an obvious drunk, sloppy man in his 30s. His navy blue tie hung loosely around his neck and his three piece suit was dishevelled, covered in beer stains.

“Oh, fuck off,” I hissed, the pain in my back radiating through my shoulder blades. Without waiting for a response, I spun around and walked off, my apartment building finally creeping into sight.

The crowd parted as I powerwalked towards the double-doored skyrise, the building on the corner of the intersection of 8th and Franklin. It wasn’t the biggest building – only 34 floors – but it was modern, and up until 6 months ago, my favorite place in the city.

Now it was my own personal hellhole.

Jeff, our doorman gave a me stern courtesy nod, his lips tight as he forced himself to remain professional. He opened the door, his dark red uniform sticking out like a sore thumb to the surrounding dark suits of the empire world. As I stepped through, my sneakers slapped the marble tiles of the foyer. The grey, misty tiles had a shine to them, making me feel out of place. I wasn’t unpolished, but the town made me feel dirty.

I could hear the whispers from lingering neighbors, their stares burning into my body as I quickly opened my mail box on the wall. The left wall held all the mail holes, while the right took you to a front desk and casual seating area. We even had a little bar that was open most nights, the counter spaced out along the side of the foyer. All the dozen bar stools were occupied, the occupants laughing and drinking. A few of them had caught on to the whispers and turned to watch me too. I hated that – the drunk ones were the ones who always had the most to say. Maybe it was liquid courage, or maybe it was because they were drinking as they had nothing to lose. Either way, they loved to taunt me.

Ripping the envelopes from my box, I quickly locked it, my hands fumbling with the silver key. I glanced up briefly and scanned over the foyer and bar attendees before swiftly striding towards the elevators. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man get up from his bar stool, his friend cackling as he started walking towards me. I quickly pressed the ‘up’ button, watching the elevator numbers slowly come down.

“Come on, come on...” I begged, my body getting jittery with nerves and adrenaline as my fight-or-flight mechanism started to kick in. The ding sent a flood of relief through me and I rushed through the opening doors, my fingers hitting the ‘close door’ button frantically as footsteps sounded behind me.

I watched as the doors slowly closed, and I let out a breath in relief. But just before the light of the foyer fully vanished, a hand slipped in, triggering the safety sensor and the doors jolted before opening back up. My eyes looked up in panic as the drunk businessman slipped into the tight space with me. The smell of whiskey hit me hard and I resisted the urge to gag. The man, a redhaired lanky fuck pressed the button to close the doors and my hand fiddled with my keys that I still had out from the mail box. I subconsciously positioned the keys so they stuck out in between my knuckles, making me a modern day Wolverine.

Isn’t it sick the measures that we have to go through as women? What we naturally do to protect ourselves in this messed up world?

The elevator jumped as it started cruising up, and I quickly reached over and pressed 18, having forgotten to do so in my haste to escape. I looked away, avoiding the man’s stare as his glassy eyes watched me.

I watched the numbers climb on the computerized screen, my heart starting to race as the tension peaked.

“Aren’t you Harlow Falls?” the man murmured in amusement, the tone in his voice suggesting he already knew who I was.

I bit my lip as I ignored him, panic edging me as he stepped closer.

“I asked you a question, bitch.”

Leaning over, I pressed 18 a few more times as I desperately willed for the elevator to hurry the fuck up. A business jacket sleeve cut through my vision as he swung his arm out, his hand resting on the wall in front of me as he boxed me in. “It’s rude to ignore. I should teach you a lesson. After all, you deserve it after what you did to poor Maxie.”

My feet shuffled back, as I bravely met his glassy blue eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. But I didn’t do anything. Get away from me.”

Annoyance, and a flare of anger, crossed his face and I sucked in a breath as my back hit the wall. I was trapped.

“You fucking liar. We know what you did. You deserve to suffer.”

His hand grabbed my décolletage and I yelped, fear ripping through me. I lifted my hand, ready to take a swing with my keys when the elevator door dinged open.

Whisky man jumped back and my eyes found green ones. The tall owner stood in the doorway, a gym bag thrown over his shoulder, dressed in black basketball shorts and a white shirt. His dark brown hair was styled up – likely from having been at work – the sides short but the long top gelled back.

I let out a shaky breath as I double checked the screen to make sure I wasn’t imagining that we were on the 18th floor. The doors started to close but the brunette kicked his foot out, stopping it.

Relief filled me despite the coldness in his glare.

“Dex...” I murmured, my eyes locking with my roommate.