THE FIRST VISITOR

My life in the archive is not so different from my daily life off the clock. I live alone in the not so pretty part of the city. When my dearest Auntie Cam and her husband threw me out of their home, pretty much started living on my own since then. It's been six years...I thought I would starve and die at first, but I adjusted fast. I couldn't go to College, but completing high school seems more of a relief. Sadly, I didn't attend my graduation.

My teenage years weren't easy. When people my age were out clubbing, dating, doing stupid things and making bad decisions...I was working—-I've always been working.

Sure, I've been to clubs...but as a waiter. If serving couples on dates at the restaurant counts as a dating experience, then sure...been there, done that. I couldn't afford to make mistakes or bad decisions that would cost me. I worked several jobs, worked my bones out to get off the streets.

Living on the streets was brutal. It was very dangerous. One time, I almost got gang raped and was saved by the cops. There was a time I got stabbed in a gang fight I knew nothing about. There were cold nights I used cardboards as blanket, and my bag as pillow.

There were nights I had to pick a bowl to beg passersby for money. Still...I didn't cry.

By nineteen, I saved up enough money to rent a place in the run-down part of the city...just a small single room, joint kitchen-bedroom but thankfully, a separate bathroom. Like I said, I don't exactly live in the pretty part of the city. What's important is a bed to sleep in, a roof, and feeling secured even a bit from the crazy, wild, dangerous streets—-but privacy is totally limited. Working nonstop, I've been able to pay my rent and live here for five years now. The price being always tired, never having the time to do other things...but that's just fine.

I'm not always positive about life. There are times I scream and curse out loud. There are times I get tired and wish for the world to end...sometimes I pray for death...but somehow, I still want to live. In my head, a voice usually calms me, telling me as long as I breathe I can handle anything life throws at me.

It's been two months now...since I joined the underground department in Hills Inc. That's what I like to call it—-the underground department.

I never leave the archive. I didn't make friends. I am always alone in the large scary underground archive...but I'm not scared anymore.

The telephone rings for the first time in two months and I almost screamed. I'm so used to the silence in the large space, I totally forgot about the telephone. Honestly, as much as I'm so used to my quiet, having-no-one-around lifestyle, this job gives me the creeps sometimes. I mean, the thought that the company could actually be involved in some kind of cult crosses my mind often and makes me want to quit. But I can't—-I wouldn't dare, the pay is so good. If I work here for two more months, I would have saved up enough to move to a normal neighborhood where there aren't random gunshots, gang fights, or extremely thin walls that makes you hear literally every moan your neighbor makes while having sex. Having a place with a living room doesn't sound like a bad idea either.

'Caroline Ann Wright speaking...from the archive,' I say into the phone.

I wonder if I shouldn't have added the last part. There is a long pause. And there it goes...that creepy silence. My God, everything about this place gives me the creeps, making my skin crawl. It's so hard to believe this place is part of Hills Inc.

I didn't get a reply from the caller, deciding to drop the phone that's when I heard,

'Oh, shit! I accidentally called the archive.'

That, followed by a beep signaling the end of call. I mean, after two months I'm not surprised I get paid just to watch over harmless books like a guardian. I'm just really surprised a phone call finally came through—-it means they know I exist, I guess.

I bring out my lunch from my bag to eat. After eating, I walk to one of the bookshelves on the right. The books, files...everything screams 'business.' I shake my head and my eyes land on the stash of files and numbered boxes lying in the far end. Immediately, the feel of boredom automatically replaces itself with excitement. I feel my lips curl into a smile and I run to the desk to grab my bag. I lick my lower lip, pulling out the white tank I kept in it while leaving for work in the morning. Immediately, I start undoing the buttons of my blouse. After pulling off my blouse, I have just my bra and tight skirt on. I pull off my shoes, placing them under the desk. Rolling up my skirt, I put on the white tank top.

Walking into the door on the far end of the large room, I twist the door knob and the door opens. I grab the ladder I need for the shelves, dragging it to the nearest bookshelf. Going back into the small room, I pick up items I need for cleaning before going to the stash of files and starting to work.

After making sure quite a number of files are properly arranged in the lockers at the back, I move on to the boxes, finding each box its rightful place following the numbering on it. I pick each box, check its content, the number, then I climb the ladder to settle the box in the shelf.

I've been at it for hours, I totally lost track of time. This is definitely not a day's work. When I heard the ding sound of the elevator, signaling an arrival, I immediately wonder who it could be. There have been two surprising events in one day.

Sometimes, I truly wonder what my job is apart from bookkeeping or whatever it is. I heard sounds of approaching footsteps, settling the box gently in the shelf, I turn to peep at the sudden visitor only to lose my footing on the ladder.

'Fuck.' I curse out loud and swear my face is about to hit the floor...or maybe my ass.

However it ends, I know it won't be funny. My eyes shut on its own, and I mentally accept my bones are about to shatter in parts of my body. The fear of cracking some bones slowly disappears when I feel my body press against a stronger chest, the force causing us to fall with a loud thud on the floor.

I open my eyes, and realize I had fallen on top of this man with wide hazel eyes and black hair. He stares at me...his eyes widen, and his mouth open like he's about to speak. I lick the bottom of my lips, seeing the edges of his lips slowly curl into a smile. But it disappears so fast like it wasn't there in the first place. He shakes his head abruptly as if trying to remain conscious.

'Hi, I'm Miles.' He says.