Get Me Through

My breath was heavy, straining my chest until it was pulsing with pain. Fear prickled the back of my neck and my vision heightened in the dark, powered by survival. It wasn't every day that I was in a position like this. I worked out, but sometimes I skipped cardio and that was really biting my ass right now.

My feet carried me faster than I thought I could ever go. I hated running, but if it meant staying out of jail, I’d do it. My knuckles were still slathered in blood, my shirt glistening in mine and someone else’s.

Twigs and leaves cracked and crumpled beneath my feet and my shoes got wedged between the ground and a thick root. I stumbled forward, my arms flailing around, almost skimming the ground from trying to stay upright. My feet gave out as I toppled forward, falling out of the forest and onto a pad of grass.

My chest hit the ground, taking my breath away. I instantly glanced behind me, flashlights dangerously flickering a warning that the men chasing me were getting closer. I skimmed my eyes around, frantically trying to find somewhere to hide. If I didn't, I might be inmate meat. There was no way I was going to survive prison with the reputation I had just made.

There was a fence in front of me, and I scrambled up without another thought, making my escape up as I went. My fingers curled around the metal and I hopped over it, swiftly plopping my feet on the ground with a solid thud.

I started running again, finding myself in an apartment complex. I immediately decided I needed to get up on the second floor. I was trying to avoid the mishap of being thrown out when caught if someone found a stranger in their home.

I gripped my hands on the wooden railing of the downstairs balcony. When I hopped up, I stopped myself to balance on the edge. The inside patio was splayed with flower pots and an old bike nestled in a corner. I was faster on a bike, but when I heard quick footsteps, the thought was disregarded and the ringing of the metal from the fence had me frantic.

I didn't have time.

I acted quickly, jumping to grab the edge of the balcony above me, hauling myself up the side with all my strength. My forearms locked around the wooden support as I shifted one hand at a time to climb the side of the balcony like it was a rope. Splinters threatened to peel back my calloused skin from heaving myself up desperately. I finally got my footing where I could climb the rest of the way easily, my chest heaving as I thudded on the balcony floor.

I was exhausted, my thighs burning from the run and a newfound ache pulsed in my knuckles. The adrenaline coursed through my veins like cereal in milk, helping to numb the pain in my head.

“Where is he?” I heard one of the men hiss, getting too close.

I scrambled up to my feet, interrupting my little rest while anxiety rushed through my heart. I tried the obvious screen door—of course it was locked.

I cursed to myself as I scanned the outside of the apartment for anything that would get me inside. There wasn't even anything to hide myself behind.

There were no decorations. No potted plants. No hammock or seating area. Nothing that looked like anyone actually enjoyed their balcony.

Then, my eyes fell on an open window.

“You've got to be kidding.” I whispered under my breath. There was a window a couple feet to the right of the balcony, the only thing bridging the gap was an AC unit jutting out of the wall. Thankfully I could use that to my advantage.

I peered over the edge of the balcony, gripping the wood. I wiggled it back and forth—absolutely unstable. I sighed, leaning my body weight on it to see if it would hold. Unfortunately it did, so I just went straight into throwing my leg over the edge before I could change my mind. I sat there for a second, glancing down, my feet dangling intimidatingly above the grass strip below me.

It was a story above the ground but my anxiety made it look like eight. I wasn't particularly scared of heights, but I would rather not have my heart pounding in my chest and my legs wobbling from adrenaline when I was dangling dangerously from a balcony.

I slowly moved with intent and bravery until I lifted myself all the way off the railing and clung to the AC. When I managed to get myself settled, I felt a wave of shock flash through me. I was still shaking like I'd seen a face peer from the woods. I sucked in a breath, letting it out slowly to try to calm my nerves.

The rustling beneath me made a bead of sweat trickle down my face as the men grew closer, their flashlights almost putting me in a spotlight.

Thank god I wore all black. It saved me twice tonight.

I finally got a hand free after stabilizing myself with my other and tried to pry off the screen with my fingernails. It took me six or seven tries before I finally cracked the plastic, my chest now on fire from the effort of holding myself there. I was sure there would be bruises from my chest hitting the AC. My body felt like it could let go at any moment. My shoes slowly slipped down the wall from supporting my weight, but my clammy hand was holding it all together.

With a grunt, I yanked the screen off and slid the window open as much as my arms could reach. I made sure to throw the tattered window screen on the balcony I came from. I wasn't going to throw it down on their heads like an idiot. I didn't want them catching wind of where I went.

I positioned myself to hop in the window and I flew in face first. The curtain almost came down with me, but I evaded getting stuck in it and plopped further inside than I intended.

I was first met with a soft mattress, then my head smacked a wooden headboard, forcing a soft Ah from me. I was sandwiching a figure below me. My elbows supported my weight as I felt the warmth beneath me increase. The embarrassment made tingles run across my body and up my neck. It was a strange feeling, like nostalgia wrapped in anxiety.

I was straddling a woman with bright eyes, holding surprise and a flicker of fear. They were dopey and adorable.

She opened her mouth and took a huge breath like she was gonna scream.

I panicked, clasping my hand on her mouth, my other bracing behind her neck so she couldn't squirm away. She was small and fragile, like I could crush her with one wrong move and it made me still at the thought.

“Is there anyone else here?” I whispered, glancing around the room.

There were piles of clothes everywhere in baskets—scattered in the middle of the floor and heaps in the corner. There were empty water bottles grouped across the room like someone had just come back from the Sahara desert and ravaged a Great Value forty-eight pack of water. Wrappers of those cracker snacks you usually give to kids lay beside her head, along with a bunch of Taco Bell sauces and a bag full of candy wrappers.

My eyebrows furrowed together.

The room was dark, the displaced curtain on the only window she had let the moonlight in. It was a studio apartment. I could see the kitchen sink full of dishes and an overflowing garbage can. The counters weren't any cleaner. The floor was littered with crumbs and dirt; random socks and some workout equipment. The living room was just one small bean bag in the middle of the floor and a TV hung on the wall.

There wasn't a dining table or even a chair for another person. It was moody and dark, like someone had been hiding up in here like a rat. Like Batman's cave or something.

When she didn't answer, I looked back at her. “Are you okay?” I had to ask because it looked like she was never and always home simultaneously. I was genuinely concerned. It looked like she believed there was an apocalypse outside. The room appeared as if she literally lived her life in a six-hundred square foot studio apartment.

Suddenly, I needed to know if her life ended between these beige walls. The dark circles cupping her eyes made her look like an exhausted raccoon. It made her smooth doll-like skin look paler.

But there wasn't even any life within the place, just grimy and depressing. No lights were even on, she wasn't even aware that I was climbing like a monkey outside. Or at least she didn't move away when I made all the commotion.

She was breathing heavily and I suddenly shot off her, realizing how scary it might be for a man to literally fall from the sky on top of her in her slumber. Plus, she couldn't answer any of my questions with my hand pressed to her lips. They were soft and burned a hole through my palm.

I shook it out, watching her sit up calmly and pull the blankets up to her chest. Her sluggish movements were worse than if she’d scrambled away from me—somehow it made me feel like she didn't want to waste her energy on me. She huddled in the corner of her bed, making me shift my weight as I kneeled on the other side. “Sorry. I, uh—”

“The fucker’s gone!” One of the men yelled below the window, snapping my mouth shut and I instantly put my finger to my lips to signal her to keep quiet. I was pleading with my eyes for her to not give me away.

If she blew my cover I would be in big trouble. My black T-shirt stuck to my body, strangling my neck. I saw her gaze drink in my frame and I silently prayed she didn't see the flame licking at my cheeks.

Her face held a soft, tired look, filled with wonder and worry. I usually wasn't flustered in front of girls, but I chalked it up to the second surge of adrenaline tonight. I took two fingers and pulled at the collar of my shirt, peeling the sweat-and-blood-soaked fabric away from my chest, trying to feel less vulnerable. I was trying to even my breathing, finally taking in a deep breath.

It smelled like stale coffee and a hint of lemon garbage bags.

I was expecting a scream, or a yell, something that would make her alert anyone around her, but all she said was, “Why are you bleeding?”

An unfamiliar feeling arose from the pit of my stomach. That was the first thing she noticed? Not a stranger tumbling in her bed that could potentially kill her? She acted like strangers regularly fell through her window without explanation.

Huffing a little bit less, I touched my forehead. Sure enough, when I looked down, blood dripped down my hand.

I guess it wasn't sweat that was trickling from my face.

The adrenaline was subsiding and my head and stomach started pulsing with pain, the ache finding its way back to me. I winced, but looked back at her with an unbothered expression. “You should see the other guy.”

“The other guy seems to want you dead,” she deadpanned, making me frown.

“Maybe.” I shrugged at her.

“They didn't sound hurt.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I'm not hurt,” I said, scoffing.

She drawled, “Sure.”

Apparently sarcasm was the only thing she would defend herself with. That was also concerning.

She blinked at me and I looked right back at her. “You're not gonna scream?”

“Should I?” she shot back.

I gave her a dumbfounded look and held up my hands like she was the crazy one and this was somehow my studio.

What was with this woman?