Chapter 5: Home

Very slowly, I collected my contents into a pile. With a few scooches of my ass, I was able to reach my broken purse. After an armload of stuff, it was full again. The broken strap lay useless next to it as the fake leather lay like bloated roadkill on the asphalt. I needed to cut down on the stuff I carried, but that was a problem for another day. Today's problem was to get home.

I crawled to my feet. My left shoulder screamed in pain with the movement, but I soldiered through it. If anything, that was one thing I was good at. I could soldier through a lot of pain, because I got hurt a lot, but mostly because I was raised to be tough, at least physically.

I had to get home. I couldn't stay here all night, especially if I was losing my mind. I bent over slowly and picked up my purse. The gravel in my hand and the fresh blood stung. I knew I was getting blood on everything, but I just needed to get this done. When I was finished, my purse hung by the singular strap as I pinched it to my side. With a deep breath, I stepped out of the safety of the light.

I could do this, just one step at a time. I would not look back. I would not let this fear overwhelm me again. I could feel it threatening me. It increased its choke on my throat with every footfall. I wouldn't give in. I couldn't give in. I had to keep moving. I took deliberate steps. I kept my eyes straight ahead of me. I had no idea where I was, but I kept moving because I had to. I had no choice. I struggled with the fear. I tried to come to terms with the darkness, with the things I had seen or the things I thought I saw. So what if the darkness got me? So what? Why did I care so much? I should just let it get me.

Every foot fall was painful. The blood from my knees oozed out of the wounds. I could feel it smearing between my slacks and my leg. It stuck to it then ripped away with each step. Even my socks were sticky with it. I was going to be a mess to clean up when I finally made it home.

After several twists and turns, I eventually found the main street. My heart thumped loudly in my ears. I tried to keep the shake from my hands as I strode forward. The shake made my shoulder hurt that much more. This fear was irrational. I would be fine, and if I wasn't, well then let it be so. Let it get me.

After my harrowing, yet eventless journey back to my apartment, I climbed the flight of stairs to my one bedroom apartment. The door handle turned easily beneath my hand. Mila must have left it unlocked again. I pushed open the door.

Breath caught in my throat as I stifled a squeak of surprise. Anton was standing in the hall with only a pair of jeans on. His skinny form wasn't much to look at. In this better light I could see he had the same platinum blonde hair as Mila.

His eyes were wide in surprise. "You," he hissed.

I somehow recovered my voice. "Anton," I said hoarsely.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "How do you know my name?"

"You said you were Mila's brother. What are you doing here?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I live here."

He looked around. "Here?"

I pushed through the doorway and dumped my purse on the table. I spun, quickly latching the door shut, then locked it frantically. I took a breath to relax, trying to push the fear from my mind. When I turned back around, I pinned him with glaring eyes. "What the hell happened?"

Anton stiffened. "With Mila?"

I looked at him like he was stupid.

He adverted his eyes. "Well, I... She... I don't know."

"She's dead."

"Yeah."

"And now she's gone."

"Yeah."

"And?"

He shrugged. "I found her like that."

"Bullshit."

His blue eyes looked at me sharply.

"Tell me what happened."

He ran a hand through his blond hair. "She called me, but I couldn't hear her, so I tracked her down with the GPS on her phone. There was this thing... and..."

"And?"

"Shit, I don't know. It got her. You saw it."

I gave a slight nod.

"That's it. You came out of nowhere and trip on her and then... she was just gone."

"And then you ran away."

He ran his hand nervously through his hair again. "I... yeah. I fuckin' ran. Survival of the fittest. I tried to help you, but you... you wouldn't let go. What was I supposed to do? Let it get me, too?"

"I... I don't know."

"You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing."

I slumped in the dining room chair. I was too tired to fight right now. "I guess."

An awkward silence filled the room.

He sighed. "Sorry about your shoulder."

I shrugged with the good one.

"Does it hurt?"

I closed my eyes and nodded once.

"Shit." He walked over to sit across from me in the other mismatched dining room chair. "So what's the deal with this place? Who lives here?" He points to the sheets hung on a string across the living room.

"That would be Mila's room. I live in that one and we share the master bathroom."

His face went a little pale. "I see."

I was too tired to see what he saw. Hoping he didn't ask me any more questions, I pulled myself back up and left him at the table. As I walked down the hall, I let my shoes slip off. When I finally made it to my room, I dropped on to my full-sized bed in exhaustion. When my nose hit the pillow, I smelled the unfamiliar scent of a man. I wrinkled my nose as I finally see what he saw. I flipped the pillow over and promptly pass out.