Savior

The Girl in 26B

            She won’t ever displease me, and it’s frankly annoying.

            Regardless, she’s nice and really likes me. So, that’s that.

            Niall finally stumbles out of his room in jeans and my Stone’s tee-shirt, but I let it slide and we leave the apartment with a long glance at the shut door in front of ours. We silently make our way down the carpeted hallway –that reminds me way too much of The Shining- down the hallway, and finally to the small lobby, where Betsy sits behind the desk and rolls her eyes at our appearance.

            “I’m not tellin’ you boys anything.” She pushes her short silver hair behind her ear and even though she just denied us information without us even asking, I can’t help but smile at the cute little old lady.

            “Awe, c’mon B. We’re just curious.”

            She is silent for awhile, looking between the both of our innocent faces skeptically before sighing and rolling her eyes again. I knew she’d give in, she always does. Can’t resist my charm and Niall’s boyish grin.

            “I can’t tell you much, anyway. She came in around four in the morning and paid in cash for two months’ rent,” Her crystal eyes glaze over in the memory and a frown takes over her features, “Something wasn’t right, though, that’s for sure.”

            “What d’ya mean?” Niall asks excitedly, but the expression on her face makes his grin vanish.

            “The girl looked like she just lost a war. She was so young, but looked like she had been through a lifetime of pain. I’ve never seen someone so,” Betsy pauses and then shakes her head slightly, “Anyway, you boy’s best leave her alone. She probably won’t be coming out of that place for a while.”

            If anything my curiosity has only increased ten-fold and the only thing I actually want to do is go knock on my new neighbor’s door, but I know better than to disobey Betsy. She may be a cute lil’ old lady, but I have no doubt in my mind that she would beat my ass if I ever did anything wrong.

            “Did she talk much?”

            “No… Just asked for a room, gave me the payment, and left. She didn’t even really make eye contact with me and was wearing a hood over her face the whole time. I didn’t want to pry because it seemed like she was in a hurry.” Betsy still had a slight frown on her face and I could see a slight sadness in her cerulean eyes that made my chest ache.

            She must have grown a liking towards this girl already. With the way her teeth gnaw on her lip, I can’t help but wonder if Betsy is withholding some information from us. She was a tendency to chew on her lip when she is lying or hiding something; it’s her tell. I’m about to open my mouth and ask when Niall interrupts.

            “She could be a serial killer for all we know, B. Who buys an apartment at four in the morning on a Wednesday, covering their face?” Niall exaggerates and I roll my eyes at his tendency to over-dramatize things.

            “I won’t be making that mistake again,” Betsy laughs even though it’s anything but funny, “Besides, I should be more worried about you two hooligans causing a ruckus.”

            Niall immediately turns to me with a guilty smile and my plump lips pull up into a matching grin as we shrug our shoulders and face Betsy again. We wouldn’t even dare to try anything after the incident last year. We’re still paying for that one.

            “Anyway, leave the girl alone. You’ll meet her at the tenant meeting next week anyway.”

            With that, Betsy dismisses us to fill out paperwork and Niall leaves to go visit his lover before her shift. I decided to stop pestering Betsy, knowing she’ll tell us whatever she is hiding in due time. She always does; it’s my curls that do it, I just know it.

            I wave goodbye to them both before climbing my way up the stairs slowly. I’m procrastinating on starting work because I know I’ll just end up staring at my blank canvas for another three hours.

            I’ve hit a bit of a dry spell in my art. It’s been almost three months since I have been able to put pen to paper or brush to canvas and create even a sketch or painting of leaves. All the creative thoughts and ideas I was once so full of have seemed to fall right out of my head. Now, instead of loving art, I have come to dread it because of my lack of ideas.

            And with my art exhibition coming up in a few months I really need to stir up some creativity. I desperately need the money. My mum desperately needs the money.

            A long exhale leaves my lips just thinking about my predicament and the weight I suddenly feel on my shoulders. It doesn’t help that by the time I reach my floor I am already out of breath. I live on the second floor for Christ’s sake, I’m way too out of shape.

            Just as I am about to put my key in the lock I hear a loud crash come from the mysterious apartment in question. I hesitate at my door, remembering Betsy’s warning to stay away, but when I hear another similar sound I step towards her door. My knuckles rap twice on the wood and all prior sounds suddenly cease.

            Complete silence meets my knock and I know for a fact that she is probably looking through the peephole, so I try to put on a friendly smile without it looking creepy. When I don’t get an answer I knock once more and hear a small gasp from the other side in reply.

            “Y-yes?” My eyebrows raise slightly at the small feminine voice. American. Interesting.

            “You alright? I heard some noises?” I feel a bit awkward talking to a door, thinking it’s a bit odd that she won’t open up and just talk to me face-to-face.

            Now I’m really curious.

            “I’m fine. Thanks for the concern, but you can go now.” Her voice is small and slightly nervous. Even though the words are a tad rude, her tone of voice suggests the opposite.

            I mumble a small affirmative, but can’t find the will to move from her door. From Betsy’s description of the elusive and scarred girl to her talking to me from behind her door, I can‘t deny that I’m undeniably curious.

            It’s with a small smile that I make my way back into my apartment; thoughts of who might be residing in 26B swirling through my head.

            The apartment still lives up to its name and I have no doubt that whoever moved in will be just as infamous as those before her.

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Thanks for reading xx

Dedicated to Bianca again because she is amazeballs and her novels inspire me