Chapter 2: Apartment

I stepped over the bum who was passed out on the stairs to my apartment building so I could get to the door. I walked through the small entryway that was chipped with age and had been given a new set of bullet holes since I left this morning. The commotion outside was spread out, but inside there was much more going on a lot closer together. I squeezed past the drunk couple in the small hallway who were making out to the nastiest degree, and the hippies who started a drummer's circle on the stairs. People were passed out from binge drinking every ten feet, and the rave in the basement shook the whole building.

The place reeked of booze and marijuana, and the walls were stained with god knows what. I made my way past the parties going on through the few apartments on the third floor until I reached the door to mine. I unlocked the bolt and rushed inside, glad to be home. I locked the four other locks on my door that I had installed before feeling safe enough to turn on the light. The electricity in this place wasn't the best, but it got the old light bulb in the center of the ceiling to flicker awake.

There were cracks in the walls and the window was duck-taped in the places it broke years before I moved in. The walls were packed with grime that was impossible to scrub off, and the place was barely big enough to live alone in. I found it crazy how families were living in other apartments with the same amount of space. The apartment had two rooms. A main room where the sorry excuse for a kitchen was in the left corner. It had a small fridge, a couple of cupboards, and a hot plate as a replacement for a stovetop or oven. The sink only gave some sort of brownish water so I didn't use it other than to wash dishes.

On the right side of the room, there was an old couch that I got from a dumpster that I called my bed. It was pretty worn, but I found it comfortable to sleep on at least. I didn't have any other furniture since the apartment was small and I didn't want to clutter the place. I couldn't afford anything other than dumpster furniture anyway and it was all I needed.

The other room was a small bathroom where I couldn't open the door without hitting the toilet. The plumbing was sensitive here so I had to buy the extra thin toilet paper. At least it was less expensive than the real stuff. The bathroom came with a sink that had clearer water than the kitchen so I got my drinking water from this sink. Thankfully, the shower had clear water as well. The bathtub, of course, had an irremovable ring of grime, and it was small, even for me.

I washed my clothes in the tub since the Laundromats around here were where most murders got reported. I didn't have many clothes anyway so I didn't think it was worth risking death and paying twenty-five cents for it. The bar that held my ratty shower curtain was rusty but fine enough to dry my clothes on.

I walked to the couch, exhausted from my double shift, and collapsed on the cushions. I waited a moment before pushing myself up to take off all of the clothes I had piled on. I took off my mask, my coat, my work uniform, and the constricting bra that hid my body from the world. Of course, the people at work knew I was a woman because I couldn't wear my coat during my shift, but I never felt like one until I could take everything off at the end of the day. It was two a.m. and I wanted nothing more than to sleep. I took a quick shower and indulged myself by putting on a pink sweatshirt and some fluffy pajama bottoms that matched. 

It felt so good to wear pink and remind myself that I was a woman. It was hard for me to forget as often as I did. Having to constantly dress like a boy and be unnoticed by everyone around me stripped me of the joys of being feminine. I couldn't even decorate my phone case so I could have it out in public. It sucked that I could only be myself when I was alone. I wished more than anything that someone would come into my life and call me pretty. Unfortunately, I knew that would never happen. I might have a nice face, but the rest of me was sickly. I was pale, thin, and weak. Nobody would ever think that was pretty. 

I sighed as I headed to the fridge. I felt like I had swallowed a rock. It was easier to keep my meals down when it was late, but I still felt awful. I opened the fridge to see it empty other than the largest shelf. The shelf was filled with oranges, and I grabbed a smaller one from the plastic bag that held them. Oranges were the one food I could eat without feeling nauseous after. They also helped me digest any other food I had throughout the day. I found that they lasted longer than any other fresh food I could buy so I didn't have to worry about building up the motivation to eat them before they expired. 

The only other thing I had in my fridge was in the freezer. I had some cheap frozen dinners in there for the times I couldn't postpone eating anymore. I normally had those late at night so I could fall asleep and not have to worry about the nausea kicking in while I digested it. I peeled the orange over my trash and fought to keep myself awake. I felt dizzy the longer I stayed up but I had to settle my stomach before I went to sleep. I ate the orange on the couch while wrapped up in an old quilt to protect me from the frost from the outdoors. It was autumn and my radiator was broken.

The wind came in easily through the broken window and blankets were the best defense I had against it. I would normally make some chamomile tea to go along with my orange, but I was too weak tonight. I finished the rest of the slices while watching funny cat videos on YouTube with my phone. Once I was done, I brushed my teeth and put my phone on its charger. I then went back to the couch and wrapped myself up until I was cozy. I had put my gun on the floor next to me so I could have easy access to it if there was a break-in. Right before I closed my eyes I heard a loud bang.

The noise had come from the wall the couch was leaning against and muffled yelling followed the bang. My neighbors weren't the type to be respectful past curfew. Their fighting would last hours and sometimes terrified me. A man and a woman lived there and the woman was clearly abused. I could hear them throwing things at the walls and huge banging noises of what I hoped wasn't the woman getting beaten, even though I knew it was.