CHARITY
Riverdale was a relatively small city. Not a hundred thousand population kind of small, I'm talking about a 30,000-population kind of small. No more no less. It's a city where everyone knows every tom, dick and Harry.
Nothing ever happens in the city. Riverdale was more of a retiree home for the elderly who have worked their life off somewhere in the big cities and now seek rest.
And that's where I grew up. And inevitably where I was going back to. Riverdale isn't all bad, the scenery here is beautiful and environment was nontoxic. I consoled with the thought that I needed someplace without the hustle and bustle of the city to keep me sane.
I spent the next couple of days looking up apartments in the city. The best ones were not fit for my pocket, they would have if I accepted Micah's money but that's all I have left of my dignity and I don't regret it. The not so great apartments were a perfect fit but the images made me cringe.
The only one that seemed close to good made me wonder who the heck the apartment owner was. It clearly stated that the pipes were broken, the walls were thin and that there was only one other occupant on the apartment floor right across and a clear notion that it was to be paid in cash. What a great way to put yourself on the market! Still it was just what I needed.
I rented it.
Just a person sharing an apartment floor with me was like sharing it with no one at all. I would be invincible and my plans would fall right in place. I had it all planned out. I blatantly lied to my parents when I called them again this morning, what's there to lose again?
I would be in the town for a couple of weeks to lay low and do some research on a new article I had coming. It's something big that no one except my company knows about and Riverdale is just the right place for me. Why I'm renting an apartment? I don't want to be distracted, it's something big that even my parents can't find out. There you have it! I can mentally imagine my mother squealing in excitement at my perfectly soon to be told lie.
Shayne's downright disagreement at first shocked me. If anyone has mastered the art of lying perfectly, it's Shayne and when she told me that I should come clean to my parents made me wonder if she hit her head while working her shifts at the hospital. Years ago, I wouldn't believe she would be the one to talk me out of things, I was always the good one, the one who managed to get us out of trouble. I guess her job came with so much responsibility after all.
But I didn't care. I wanted to pretend all was fine even if it was just for a few weeks. I wanted to be in control of things like I have always been. A little setback won't bring me down. Cliché but true.
Shayne supported me either way, she was my best friend and I couldn't have it any other way. I was all packed and ready to leave. We had a girl’s night out for the last time, seeing movies, reminiscing the old times, eating our favorite Chicken wings.... sobbing. It was sad. I wasn't just leaving the city I've grown accustomed to; I was leaving my best friend. It only made me realize how much the decisions we make could affect us. I almost felt regret.
But in anyway, correcting our mistakes and moving on from our errors could make up for our flaws. It could make up for mine.
And I was ready to do whatever it takes to have my life back.
✧༺♥༻✧
He was a drunk.
I should have known when I saw the apartment commercial he put up. His pale skin, haggard looks and the way his hands were all jittery as he took the money from my hands with a smug grin on his face gave every bit of it away and I almost wince at the thought of my hard earned money probably going for a few rounds of beer at the bar. How he owns a building with 4 floors still baffles me.
"Now be good, your next-door neighbor doesn't like loud people"
My new landlord slurred. I assumed my neighbor was an old lady or perhaps an old man, perfect. The thought that I won't probably have to deal with an annoying neighbor when I've got problems of my own pleased me greatly. It's not like I had horrible neighbors while at Connecticut, I in fact made a couple of friends but not before going all out with most of them. An episode I don't want to talk about.
I simply nodded. Eager to leave the lobby and get my things out of my car. I had promised my parents to come sees them the day I arrive Riverdale. It was no longer an imagination. It was real. I'm here.
The city was only 20 miles away from Connecticut and the drive here was smooth only I was almost phoned to death by someone acting like a nervous mother sending her daughter off to college.
"I can't help it char; I miss you already."
Shayne had said when I angrily told her off the fifth time. I missed her already too.
"Here's your key, 4B—l–last floor" Jittery fingers handed me a bunch of keys.
"I have a spare with me, it's for me to check up on your apartment when you aren't around–you–you can have it if you want c–"
"I'll take it" I said quickly.
A drunk going through my apartment? No thank you. He snickered before handing me a single key. I mouthed a thank you before walking out the lobby and heading for the garage to retrieve my things from the car. It was all neatly packed into boxes and I couldn't pick a more accurate time to mentally thank Shayne for helping me pack.
It wasn't easy carrying tons of boxes–heavy boxes to and fro while my landlord sat in the lobby watching me do it. I didn't expect help from an alcoholic, did I?
My floor wasn't exactly what I expected. It was almost dark, shady and eerily quiet with the light bulb flickering off and on occasionally. So much for my hard-earned bucks. My apartment stood at the rear, before the last one which I assumed was the one my neighbor occupied. Huffing one last time, I dump the last box in front of my door with a frustrated sound. My palms flew to cover my mouth hoping I hadn't woken up an old lady taking her beauty nap.
And ever so quietly, I opened my door and the smell of fresh new paint greeted me as I walked in. I look for the switch and turn the lights on. It didn't look anything like I imagined, it was actually comfy and nice looking, well except for the broken pipes I'd have to deal with later.
I sighed before moving forward to bring my things in. I couldn't unpack as much as I wanted to, it was getting late and I needed to go to my parents and get this over with. And so, after dumping my things in, I close the door taking one last glance at the door at the end of the room before walking towards the elevator.
My landlord was already downing a bottle of beer when I got back to the lobby.
Atta boy!
I completely ignored him , walking out to the garage and over to my car. I did the start the car when I enter, I kept holding and letting out breaths reassuring myself that everything would be fine. It will all be over in a blink of an eye.
After whispering enough words of encouragement to myself, I started the car , it revved and suddenly died down. I tried again and it stilled completely. No! Not today.
"No! No ! Red you can't do this to me today! "
Now I regretted completely ignoring the signs that poor thing hasd been giving me for weeks. Red was a red convertible my parents got me as a congratulatory present the day I got my job, I loved it instantly and named it and it's been through so much with me.
"No no red! You really can't do this to me" I whineed after trying to start it a couple more times.
While still pleading and venting out my on my car. I heard a deep mirthless chuckle. By the sound of it, someone was clearly mocking me. Anger collided with my frustration but as I turned, all I saw was a retreating figure going into my apartment building.
"Jerk" I mutter
So much for good neighbors!
I stumped out of my car and straight into the building. Maybe I better go do that unpacking. My parents could wait another day as much as it bothered me. I didn't see anyone except my partially drunk landlord. Whoever that jerk was, I had a feeling I wouldn't like him . I take the elevator to my apartment hissing at no one in particular.
As if my car's breakdown wasn't enough, someone was listening to ground shattering and ear blocking rock music. Really! It took a while to actually realize that the noise came from my floor.
There was only one other person on this floor. Didn't that drunk say my neighbor doesn't like loud people?
Then it hit me. I made the assumptions on my own. I didn't know who it was in there and I wasn't sure why rock music was their type of music but one thing was for sure;
My next door neighbor was no old lady.
CHARITY "Oh my freaking God! " A shriek. Clearly not the kind of greeting I expected as I walked into the stuffy company for the first time. I wasn't even in a good mood to say the least. My favorite and only car completely broke down and I had to wait a whole thirty minutes for my godforsaken uber!Not to even mention the loud music from the other apartment that kept me up all night! They were pretty loud for people who hated noise. My new work place might not really please me but I was never a tardy person and so that's why I am still rooted to a spot, in shock, not only from the shriek that broke out but the tight embrace I was locked in. I slowly disentangled myself from the chubby arms that held me so tight I could break and I come face to face with a lady with fiery red hair and makeup that looked like half the paint my new apartment had. It&
CHARITY I think my life just did a 360 degree split right in front of me. Don't know the possibility but that's pretty much how I feel right now as I stared back at the towering figure in front of me while letting my fisted hand that had intended to knock the door senseless fall back to my sides. I was gaping no doubt , drawn like a magnet to the set of eyes that seemed all too familiar to a dream. It ultimately reminded me of how I got here in the first place. "Looks like you have a knack for naming with colors" It was the kind of savage statement that usually comes with a smirk but no—the man in front of me wasn't smirking, his face was expressionless and accentuated by those icy blue eyes. And then that deep voice, smooth and rough all in one and it sent chills down my spine real
"....and guess who stole the car? " "Old man Pete? " "No silly! Emma ray! " "Right Emma" Julia. Me. Julia. Me. That's pretty much how the conversation went and I was close to losing it. It's been hours and Julia wouldn't stop talking about petty crimes that has happened in the city so far. The one she was currently talking about was about a car theft that had me mixing up names of the people involved. I think at some point I thought the owner of the car was the thief. I didn't want to discourage her, she was clearly intrigued by what she called their biggest story yet. Car theft? You've gotta be kidding me. It's been a week since I moved here and started working at Empire news House. It was supposed to be one of those moment when you admit time flew so fast t
I was 18 when I witnessed my first crime. Oh! It's nothing. Just saw a boy hit his friend with an hammer and made a run for it. I had called the police immediately and watched the boy get arrested somewhere along the other streets and it felt good to be called a ‘first class’ citizen for reporting a crime. I think that was when it all started. From then on, I wanted nothing but to report and reveal crimes. And report them I did. For years , I have researched , worked and written about the gravest sins in my country and I felt good doing it. I have seen worse crimes, met with dangerous criminals unknowingly in the course of my job and joined the police in their investigations. I even made a few friends with the detectives. I'm telling you I didn’t win the best article of the year for nothing! So why? I found myself asking. Why were my hands shaking? Why di
Everywhere was a mess.In one night, Riverdale, that small safe town I grew up in turned upside down when it recorded its first murder in the last 20 years and the people were going crazy about it. Local newspapers that I didn’t know existed were struggling to be the first to publish the story bits that they could gather from the police and people close by. Locals were scared and being watchful.And me?I was losing it!I knew that feeling. It was a very familiar feeling every child growing up must have had. That kind of feeling when you know dad has a big surprise for mum on her birthday but you have to keep it a secret when you badly want her to know what he has planned for her. That feeling of being the only one who knows a big secret ,sometimes dangerous and overwhelming--most times great and amazing , there's so much to risk if you let it out and so you watch how things unravel or maybe just spill it out.
"Constantine sure got herself a fine one"Detective Roman.We were sitting across from each other at a café near the police station. He must have sensed how uncomfortable I felt around so many policemen when he asked us to take the interview somewhere else and I was grateful.Even sitting before him now, I couldn’t forget the awkward moment a while ago when I stared at him like a complete moron. He was good-looking no doubt and from the look he gave me when I stared absentmindedly at him, he must get that a lot . Not your regular Riverdale kind of good-looking but a rough, refined and sophisticated kind. He was dressed in a blue button up shirt that showed little of his chest in the part that wasn’t buttoned with muscles that made him all the more manly and the smell of sandalwood coming from him was nothing short of marvelous. Somehow, I knew he wasn’t from Riverdale. And if he was, he must not have been around much.&n
Fear. They say you never know the true meaning of fear and how dangerous it can be until it becomes visible . Mine was in the form of a man with heart-stopping gorgeousness and nerve-wrecking brutality. My fear was as visible as it can be, seated on my kitchen table ,slinging a bunch of keys in his hands and helping himself to a cup of coffee from the coffee maker in my kitchen. Sitting there, he looked so natural and fit into the simplicity of the place like he owns it and like I was the intruder in my own home. Run. That was the only word my numb brain could process when I finally weighed the situation. I turned and only moved a foot when his voice stopped me "Don’t even think about it" Too late. I tried to steady my harsh breathing as I turned slowly to look at him , hands all shaky and sweaty. Even in my predicament , I didn’t fail to acknowledge how exceptionally good h
Home.Just the sheer thought of it gives a certain feeling of warmth and security. That four lettered word that assures you of love and utmost safety just by thinking about it. You forget how hard the world is coming at you and the terrible turns your life is taking. Home. It's a place you feel nothing can ever chase you right into. I guess my definition of a home was never right from the start.He was everywhere.My home, my work….basically , my life. And the thought that I have nowhere to run to anymore terrifies me more than anything I've ever felt.It was like hours have passed already but in reality , it was only a few seconds. My heart didn’t fail to do what it knows how to do best when I'm with him. It pounded against my chest like crazy and I've stopped trying to figure out if it was from the fear of getting killed or from the closeness of our bodies. One of his big hands held me against the gre