Thirty-one dollars and fifteen cents. Juneau looked at the bills sitting in her hand that she had dug out of her nightstand. "Not nearly enough," she mumbled to herself as she began pulling all the contents of her drawer out searching for what she knew wasn't there. In two days time she needed ten times that and if she didn't she'd be thrown out by Mr. Candrew, her gross and perverted landlord. She had been renting the room in his basement for months now, the old man had come down the steps more than once willing to pardon her rent in exchange for unmentionable acts, the thought of it made Juneau's skin crawl. When she had refused – not so politely – he told her one more late payment and she was gone. Men, specifically men like that, made her wish the world would be expelled of all men and that the human population would die leaving behind its mass destruction at the age of nineteen.
She flopped on her bed; she didn't know what to do. There was no way she would make that much in one night. It was bad enough she was living off of scraps she snatched up at the diner she worked, bad enough that she wouldn't take the free meals the owner constantly offered her claiming they were mess ups, and someone should take them. Juneau always gave the boxed-up food to the man who slept in the alley on the side of the diner, he needed them more than her.
Instead of feeling bad for herself she got off her ass and started packing her few belongings into a bag, she had a plan, work tonight and tomorrow, make as much money as possible and then catch the bus to the closest beach town. If she was going to be homeless, she'd rather be sleeping on the beach than the streets where anyone could walk up and well, do anything they wanted.
Heavy footfalls sounded from the other side of the basement door that connected her to the upper floors, "Juney girl," she tensed, and her eyes darted to the door, the rickety knob shook, "why do you lock me out girl." She grabbed her apron off the dresser where she'd tossed it the night before and backed towards her exit. The only entrance she ever used, the window that was just low enough that it wasn't an inconvenience for her to crawl through, "Girl, I need your money for rent."
She snatched the bag she'd half-hazardly packed and shoved the money she had in it, she was leaving this place for the last time, she would leave tonight after her shift and be rid of this place. The door rattled on it's hinges, "you have to come out eventually girl, I'll be waiting." No footfalls sounded on the steps, no movement on the other side of that blasted door. She needed to go and needed to go now.
As quietly as she could she slid the window up on it's old frame, nothing about this place made it worth any rent. She'd found it in a newspaper ad since she didn't have a phone and the old man seemed nice enough, for the first month. She turned one last time to make sure she wasn't forgetting anything and dropped her feet on the pavement of the alley, she didn't bother to shut the window.
Work resulted in fifty-three dollars; it wouldn't have been enough even if she had worked tomorrow. She glanced around at the closed down dining room, red chairs with worn out seats nothing special but it'd been good to her. "Goodnight Juneau, I'll see you tomorrow hun." She turned to see one of the older ladies who made the pastries and pies walking out the door, she didn't have the nerve to tell her she was leaving, didn't have the nerve to tell anyone, so she just nodded and smiled.
Another voice called from the back this one belonging to owner Mrs. Gallagher, "Juneau you can head on out, I'll finish everything else!"
She swallowed hard and grabbed her bad from behind the counter, "Thank you Mrs. Gallagher," and she meant it, the older lady had done so much for Juneau, she'd invited her in off the street and offered her a job when she had nothing else, hadn't judged her for being a high school dropout or a runaway, had just accepted her for who she was. She was an eccentric old lady, one of the cooks refused to look her in the eye, said something lurked there that wasn't natural, but he also came in with a water bottle of alcohol and burned half the dishes he put in the window – sandwiches were his best dish. But there was something odd about the older woman, Juneau often found her muttering to herself, phrases that she'd never heard before or staring off into the distance like she was lost in herself. She was odd, yes, but she had only ever been nice to her.
She made her way down the back hallway to the office where she sat, she was beautiful even in her older age, snow white hair fell in waves down her back pulled together by a ribbon. She cleared her throat to choke down any fear she had, Mrs. Gallagher was too sweet to not tell, she'd done too much for Juneau over the six months she was here, "Mrs. Gallagher," the old lady looked up from the notes she was scribbling, "I need to tell you I have to leave, I won't be back, I'm sorry."
The older lady sat back in her chair, "are you okay Juneau?" she pursed her lips, "if that old Candrew is giving you problems I told you I can call his brother." Mrs. Gallagher had gone to school with the brothers, she constantly reminded her that his older brother wouldn't tolerate the behavior that her landlord gave her.
"No, it's not that," she lied through her teeth, "It's just time for me to move on." She smiled at the older lady and for a moment forgot that she was leaving into a cloud of uncertainty the moment the bus pulled away from the stop.
Mrs. Gallagher clicked her tongue, "well," a pause, "I have something for you then." She stood up from her chair and reached to the necklace that was hanging around her neck, had always been hanging around her neck. It was a emerald surrounded by three diamonds with a twisting silver symbol over the emerald locking it in. It was definitely old, old but beautiful.
"No, no," Juneau put her hand up, "I can't possibly take that I've never seen you without it."
Mrs. Gallagher just shook her head and laid the chain and pendant into her hand, "it's kept me safe for years, nothing can harm you with this." She pulled Juneau into a hug, "when you get to where you're going call the diner, just let me know you're okay."
Juneau called a final farewell down the hall and went out the front door of the diner, the necklace resting around her neck. She turned the corner down the alley that would cut across towards the bus station. A shadow leaned against the building under the moonlight, Juneau just pulled her bag tighter to herself and put her head down, she didn't want or need any trouble tonight. But the shadow lifted it's head, "you got a light?" it asked, a man, go figure.
"Sorry." She offered as she went to pass, she didn't and even if she did, she didn't have the time. But she heard the shadow pull itself off the wall, felt the cruel stare follow her as she walked.
"Well, what do you have in that bag of yours missy?" he asked, the voice was closer than she thought. She kept walking, she didn't have the time for this, didn't have the energy, she had one destination in mind, far away from here. But the shadow didn't seem to care about her plans.
The nasty groggy voice twisted behind her, all around her, "I'm talking to you bitch," she kept walking, feeling the side of her bag and her stomach dropped. Her knife, she forgot her knife. Icy cold panic settled over her, but she just quickened her pace, she just had to make it to the street, he surely wouldn't do anything with people around, a couple more steps and she would be under the light of the streetlamps, under the protection of the public. But she didn't make it those three steps, a hand wrapped around the top of her left arm dragging her back into the darkness. No, this - this can't be happening. A foul odor found its way into her nostrils, metallic and old, it smelled like death.
"You think you can ignore me?" he rasped in her face, "you give food to that old scum but to me? To me you give nothing?" She startled, he'd been watching her, he knew who she was. She'd never known his shadow, not this cruel foul being. He yanked the bag from her shoulder one of the straps snapping against her coat at the force, but his grip never relented on her arm, she could do nothing but stand there in fear.
The shadow snickered, "but you know, I can take something else from you," her stomach turned, she tried to scream, opened her mouth, but nothing came out. It seemed darker in the alley then it had ever been, even the glow from the high kitchen windows of the diner did nothing to illuminate anything, pitch black darkness with a monster lurking.
She heard her bag hit the ground, the only sound was his foul breath in her face, she closed her eyes her lip quivering, there was nothing she could do.
She felt something sharp trail her arm, heard his shoes shuffle until there was no space between them, this was it, she was going to die. This shadow that she didn't know had decided for her, of all the fucking ways to go she was going to be killed in an alley, nobody would come to identify her, she'd be a jane doe, a cold case in a month and completely forgotten. A tear rolled down her face she didn't mean to let it happen didn't mean to show anymore fear but there it went rolling down her face the last thing she'd ever do was cry over her useless life.
Somewhere down that dark walkway a door opened, a bag of trash dropped. She didn't hear it, didn't hear anything over the sound of her heart thumping in her chest, at least she would bleed out faster.
Then the earth shook, a blast from somewhere, maybe a scream, it wasn't from her, then ten thousand raindrops scattered the ground around her, felt them tear her flesh on the way down. Then nothing, nothing but cold deep darkness.