The Twenty-Third Floor

Reilly McKevitt

Prompt used: A story that takes place across ten seconds

1 January 2021

The Twenty Third Floor Floor

The fairy lights illuminated the darkest corners of the Barlowe Hotel’s rooftop garden. Men and women alike, dressed elaborately in appropriate dress suits and vibrant gowns. Some men stood stoically, discussing the boredoms of work and the incorrect moves their favorite football team had made. Women circled around each other, chattering about the latest inconveniences that had occurred within their neighborhood and prided themselves in their children's minor accomplishments. 

Charity Barlowe, daughter of the well-esteemed businessman and hotel owner Henry Barlowe, leaned against the rooftop railing, letting the cool metal send shivers down her spine. She held up her martini glass and swished the golden liquid around. Turning twenty-one  consisted of many adulthood activities and tasks, but the ability to drink alcohol was the most satisfying. It helped wipe the pain of being the perfect smiling daughter. 

Charity’s eyes searched the crowd of fancy-attired men and women, searching past the sea of black tuxedos and sequin dresses, settling her eyes on nineteen-year-old Leia Matthews, her former childhood best friend. The girl was the epitome of deceiving; built as though she was made out of porcelain but stronger than any athlete while they were in highschool. 

Her dress was pure white and silken, tracing her slender body perfectly. Her dark brown hair reached a little past her shoulders. In comparison to Charity, she was a goddess. 

“Char!” Leia called out using her affectionate nickname and hurrying over in her black heels. 

“Leia,” Charity smiled, “looking beautiful as always.” She pressed her glass against her lips and let the fermented liquid scorch her throat. 

“And you as well,” Leia giggled, “Is that a new dress?”

Charity glanced at the short, dark dress. She had purchased it at the Westfield mall, in a small, rose-scented boutique. 

“Why yes, it is.” She murmured, pursing her lips. A pit of mistrust and unease swirled within her stomach.

Leia wielded secrets like a sword and every word that came off her tongue dripped with black, ominous lies. For years, Leia had taken advantage of individuals, manipulating them for her own well-being and benefit. Charity had been subjected to Leia’s ruling for years. But now, Charity was free. Because for once, she had information that could destruct Leia’s life of money, dresses and parties. Evidence that could ruin not only her reputation, but her family’s as well. 

Mr. Matthews was a well-respected, self-made figure, and Leia’s wrongdoings could unravel the perfect, wealthy life he had built for himself and his family. Charity understood the repercussions. Perfectly clear. 

“We need to talk.” Leia stated shortly. Her face was plastered with a smile, but her dark brown eyes were smoldering with rage. 

“Do we? I think I’d rather enjoy this party.” Charity replied. Every year the Barlowe family hosted a spontaneous New Years’ Eve party with live music, delectable meals, and vibrant decorations. 

Leia tilted her head back and laughed. A small, angelic laugh that taunted Charity. She reached her dark arm out and gripped Charity’s bicep. “Let’s go somewhere private,” She smirked, “we truly do need to catch up after all.”

The girls pushed past middle-aged wealthy couples, all while faking smiles and laughs. 

“Here.” Leia breathed, her voice no longer beautiful, but mirthless and cold. She clenched and unclenched her fists, a mechanism she often did when she was rageful.

This part of the rooftop was silent and cold, away from the warmth of the party. Charity rubbed her arms up and down, attempting to eradicate the goosebumps that rose upon them. “So, what exactly are we talking about?” Charity said, her well-contained annoyance slipping out of her mouth. 

“You know exactly why I’m talking to you. Don’t play dumb.” Leia snapped. Her laugh was hollow and empty. 

“Oh, I really don’t know. Lemme think.” Charity laughed, slurring over her words as the alcohol caught up to her mind. 

“Please, Charity,” Leia softened, “Please, just delete the recording.” 

Like usual, Leia was playing her role; softening her tone and warming her eyes. She was expressing empathy, a humanistic feature she lacked in reality. Charity saw right past her disguise and snorted loudly.

“Please,” Charity replied, “stop pretending to be nice. There’s no need for acting. I know who you are. Remember? We were best friends for eight years.”

“Yeah, until you decided to ruin it.” Leia cried out, her eyes flashing with rage. 

In the distance, women and men laughed and cheered. A new year was on the verge of arrival. 

Charity glanced briefly behind her, back towards the main party before focusing her gaze on Leia. She gasped, frozen with fear. 

Retrieved from her purse, Leia held a gun, stiff and solid in her hands. She pointed it directly at Charity. The party was having another commotion as the countdown into the new welcoming year had begun. 

One. “I asked nicely the first time,” Leia said, her voice coated with extra sweetness, “but I’m afraid that didn’t work, did it?”

Two. Charity angled her body towards the crowd of wealthy partygoers, fear coursing in her veins. 

Three. “Don’t you dare, Charity.” Leia growled, taking a long stride forward.

Four. Charity moved away as Leia cornered her against the roof railing. “Pl-please. Don’t do this. I’ll delete the evidence. I won’t say anything to anyone. Anyone, you hear me? I’ll completely forget about it. W-we can go back to being best friends, remember?”

Five. “Sorry, but I don’t believe in a third chance.” Leia snapped. Taking a shaky breath she took another step closer, preparing to pull the trigger without a further sensible thought. 

Six. Tears were streaming down Charity’s face and she shut her eyes and pulled away instinctively. Her heels wobbled dangerously. And down she went, sailing over the roof railing before Leia even had a chance to pull the trigger of the revolver. 

Seven. The rooftop of the Barlowe Hotel was the twenty-third floor. It was a long tumble, and the impact of it fogged Charity’s mind, leaving her unable to think coherently. Her black dress flared delicately in the wind. 

Eight. Leia’s heart sunk. She slid the gun back into her black leather purse and just like her heart, she slid to the ground. The anger flaming in her eyes was replaced with pure pain. Tears slid down her face slowly and she began to sob, stifling the disquieting sound with her hand. 

Nine. In the main party, men stopped their dull discussions to cheerily dance with their wives and lazily sing along to the blaring music, and women disrupted their gossiping with loud giggles and yelps of excitement for the new year. A large countdown was plastered on a projector.

Ten. On the rooftop, men whooped and hollered and women squealed with delightment. A new year. A new chapter. A new beginning. But Charity Barlowe had hit the concrete, and she wouldn't be able to experience any of that.