The Numbers on Her Wrist

3

I stay within the shadows of grand hotels and famous buildings as I hurry to return to my home. It's in a small apartment building on the far south-western side of Manhattan, where many street fighters do not dare to go.

The police station is only three miles away from it.

The lights of the surrounding structures are dim or completely absent. Many roads here are either abandoned due to ownership issues or future construction, but my home stays open, despite its meager amount of tenants.

I slip down an alleyway for a shortcut, the familiar door finally in sight. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding, slowing my jog to a fast walk. My satchel is secure on my shoulder, but the people whom are my neighbours know better than to steal from me.

They know what my work is.

I sacrifice nearly a full thousand dollars a month to live at this dump, its owner greedy and fond of "accidentally" finding himself in your room at the worse of times. No one will file a complaint, though. No one can afford anywhere else.

From all sides, the outside if covered in a crumbling white paint, and around the back, the fire escape is also splashed in the dull color. It is only eight stories high, but is only half a mile from the water that surrounds the city, giving anyone on the rooftop a splendid view; it's where i spend most my time when I'm not fighting.

"You're back early, Amelia. Coppers break it off again?" I glance to my landlord, Mr. Devin Pennington, his fist clutched around a bottle of cheap scotch. "Evening, Mr. Pennington. Fine night, isn't it?" I do not answer his question, moving closer to the door.

I twist the handle, winking at him, and slip inside as the bell chimes quietly. Smelly yellow carpet lines the floor, a few wooden chairs and tattered magazines sitting under a few windows to the ground floor. An unsteady table sits between two of the chairs, home to other things to read and a coffee machine; the latter is not usually working or filled, though. I walk towards the stairwell, glancing to my right.

A desk in front of Mr. Pennington's door to his own abode is covered in bills and warrants and leases, pens and pencils thrown about. He will allow anyone a free night if they assist in tidying up his desk; or his records and orders from the city.

I run a hand over my hair, tugging away the tangles and avoiding the new brown stain on the rub before the landlord's desk, continuing towards my room.

The door that would lead to the staircase is missing, it's hinges gone also.

Mr. Pennington does not house thieves anymore.

As I start up the steps, I pull the key from my pocket, ready to unlock my door when I reach it. A man sits on the second flight of stairs, rocking back and forth as he cries, his laments mumbled and muttered. I don't disturb him, hurrying to the top floor.

The hallways are the same as the ground floor, the carpets stained and holding a foul stench, but this level is the best of the eight, and it is all rented by me. Five rooms, two on each side and one at the far end. I have taken down a few walls to allow myself a part-open-concept and have agreed with Mr. Pennington to move the extra kitchen appliances and other useless furniture to the basement.

"Until you leave... or die," he had said, assisting me to move the last stove to the ground floor.

I unlock the door at the end of the hall, locking the door behind me. I pull my bag from my head and walk to my bedroom, the only wall left standing to allow me some privacy. I press myself inside, quietly, and kneel on the ground. I groan softly in pain, the hits from my opponents finally releasing their damage.

I quickly unlock the safe under my bed, stuff my new money inside, and lock it back, hiding it between a few books and boxes, a blanket thrown on top for good measure.

If I counted correctly, it makes just around $20,000. It's enough for a few months, but still short of the cost I calculated not long after my escape. I still need another year to ensure I have enough to start my new life away from the East Coast.

I sigh to myself and hurry into a spare coat, using the dirtied clothing to wipe some of the dirt and sweat and blood from my body.

A shower can wait.

I return to the main area of my home, prying open a window and slipping onto the fire escape. Wind blows into my face, the sirens and sounds of a late New York City night filling my ears. I turn my eyes behind me, looking at the buildings that glow gold and bright colors in the darkness. Cars of red and black and blue seeming to race each other across roads and highways.

I smile and grab the window sill, pulling my feet onto it. I grunt with effort as I grab the top of the window, lifting myself higher so my boots can find the familiar holds. Once my weight is steadied, I grab onto the edge of the roof and heave myself up.

Laying on my back, I can see the sky. There are no stars because of pollution, but it doesn't bother me.

Up here, nothing bothers me.

The view to the back of the building shows the water that surrounds Manhattan, some boats docked and some setting sail for a midnight trip. Sea air smells of freedom and I take advantage of it. I breathe deeper the higher I am.

Heights scare people.

Heights make me feel alive.

I relax for the first time tonight, the strain of the fighting and pain of the injuries ebbing away. My head rests on the shingles that line the roof, anything but comfortable for anyone other than a street fight. My eyelids feel heavy and the lights of the city dim.

There's a point when you fall asleep that you feel heavy, right before you lose all sense of time and reality. Your leg or arm might twitch then, pulling you awake, but soon after it draws you in again.

Moments later, you are weightless.

Moments later, you dream.

For tonight only, I give into the weight and I am pulled from a dream and into a nightmare.

A/N

Yay!Just over 50 views! Thank you all! Share, votes, and comments help me with knowing your feedback! Just a simple press of a button (or two if you are commenting :P)

Also, for readers who read my first chapter already (before this was published) note that the time Amelia has been away from "them" has been changed from three weeks to three years. The change should make sense after you have read this chapter and allows me to add in characters that she has known for longer than a few days.

Thanks for understanding! <3

Anyways, school returns Wednesday, so I hope to continue updating regularly! Thanks again for reading! Hope you are enjoying!