Under a Blanket of Stars

Chapter One

 Shouts could be heard ricocheting off the crumbling walls of nearby alleys. Whether the noises were of pain or pleasure remained indiscernible. In a neighbourhood like mine there was never any direct answer. Most things existed in shades of grey. A person could go insane trying to decide one situation from another. Long ago I learned it was better to accept instead of question. Keep your nose in your own business and you would be alright.

The summer air was heavy and sweet, even as the night wore on. Damp tendrils of blonde hair clung to the nape of my neck as the relentless humidity grew with each passing day. As I walked down the sidewalk, dimly illuminated by street lamps, I kept my hands deep in the pockets of my shorts, keys clutched in my fist. From somewhere close, a side street maybe, sirens screamed, replacing the shouting. I continued walking, my head bowed and my fingers curling closer to the cool metal of my keys. The teeth dug into my hand, nearly drawing blood. Wailing police cars only grew louder the closer I got to my apartment building.

Buildings around me were dark, their inhabitants either asleep or away. A few streets over the last drunken stragglers would be stumbling their way out of the bar and onto the street. That night, I had been allowed to leave early, to go home and get some rest before coming in for some special event the next night. I picked up my pace as somebody ran by, their shoulder brushing mine. My steps faltered slightly as I momentarily lost my balance. That balance wasn't regained as another person tore around the corner, a purse in their hands. His body slammed into mine, throwing me a foot back and onto my ass.

"Fuck," I muttered. Pebbles embedded themselves in my bare legs, blood trickling down from a couple cuts. "Could this night get any better?"

I got back to my feet, sore and a little worse for wear. Down the street the apartment building rose high, its crumbling walls covered in graffiti. The lower windows had bars bolted around them but broken window panes still littered the ground. Broken bottles and needles were mixed in with the mess, the telltale signs of another eventful Friday night. Someday I would buy a house with a big garden far away from here. Flowers would bloom every years, ducks would swim in a large pond, and a library would overlook it all. That day couldn't come fast enough.

Wooden panels covered the lower glass sections of the front doors. The apartment building was dim, most fixtures spread far apart or completely burned out. Stale piss provided a pungent odour that no amount of bleach would ever take away. If the landlord could be bothered to clean, that is. Usually, a sweet old lady on the bottom floor cleaned the hallways. Paint peeled from the walls as I climbed two flights of stairs to the third floor. At the end of the hall was my door, beat and worn, bowing towards the floor with the unknown number of impacts it had taken over the years. I dug out my keys as the dull thud of a bass shook the already unstable door. Somewhere down the hall there was laughter over the music. Empty beer cases haphazardly lined the wall on my left as a drunk woman stumbled out, skirt high and heels in hand. I quickly turned the key in the lock and nearly threw myself into my apartment before the woman tried to approach me.

Clothes littered the floor from the entryway to the living room, some in piles and others spilling out of bags with brand names I didn't recognize. Most sounded like some strange name for a disease and all were way above anything affordable. The keys landed on table beside the door as I kicked my sneakers into the closet, creating two more skid marks on the wall they hit before dropping. Across the living room curtains billowed against the open window, the scent of cigarettes wafting in with the wind.

Stars hung over the city while a cacophony of life still teeming with energy echoed below the fire escape despite how late it was. My sister sat on the edge, her long legs dangling above the ground below while she smoked. Pale pink hair was piled on top of her head, loose strands dancing. Her back went rigid as I climbed out of the window.