A Prologue

When my vision adjusts to the dark, I glare at the digital clock on my nightstand. 3:06 a.m. - The second time this week. While sweating, I turn to face Alan. He looks so peaceful with his collar-long, brunet hair spread across the pillow; how I envy you right now, Ali.

I peck his cheek, then shift over to stare at the ceiling and focus on the rainfall’s sound, slamming on the building’s roof and gutters. The constant banging is tranquilizing. Although, I hear it as a timer, waiting for it to end to finally doze off. I prop myself up enough to see the street out the window as my curiosity piques when I can’t remember the forecast. But I’ll take any excuse to stretch out for a second with this sweltering.

The downpour is heavier than its noise and…… It’s flooding. The storm drains must be blocked again. 

No matter how usual these minor floods are, their consistency will never make them less inconvenient. At least I know the apartment was a good choice. -And here I thought getting a house in Kingshill would be best… Actually, with those prices, I’ll take the apartment. Plus, I have the coffee shop. Speaking of, I think Greydon street should be fine. I’ve only really seen it ‘flood’ up to the curb, which is better than what the residential areas deal with, and I can't remember how old I was when that happened. 

My sight carries to Alan, who repositioned, huddling with the covers, but remains peacefully asleep as the sound outside stays placid. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep like that anytime soon. Though my eyes are heavy, I’m awake. 

I fling the covers off of me and gingerly flatten them out before they hit Ali. He rolls his shoulder and engulfs himself further in the restful position. “Love you, beautiful,” I whisper with a smile as I veer off the mattress.

I tip-toe around the bed to the window while extending each leg to draw out. A release in my muscles and tendons buds, and a relieved sigh impels past my lips. My mind washes blank. Any thoughts that pass are just colors that dance in my vision as they’re filled in by the streetlamps’ dim light shining in.

 At the thin windowsill, I rest my forearm and gaze out the glass. The flooding can’t be that bad. The view I have isn’t too close, obviously, but in the blurry gleam, it’s toward the curb of our wide sidewalk. How long has it been raining? 

I scan at random at the cars that line the semi-polished block. The ones lower to the ground have water a third of the way up the wheels, but the rain isn’t worsening, so that’s a good sign. Besides, storms this ample last in bits, anyway. 

There aren’t too many cars that have higher builds, but while ‘examining’ them, I notice out front of our complex is a pickup truck that I’ve never seen until now. The sketchy-type too. 

My back curves as I analyze further. Through the glint of the streetlamp on the pavement, it’s clear enough to notice the water barely reaches its wheels’ rim. Chipped paint coats the arches of the metal; in the light, it’s a mustard yellow with rusted tints.

My view trails up, curiouser and curiouser like I’m a Greek Alice in a damp wonderland. The window trim has more chips than at the wheels; how did that even happen? 

Past the glass, a shadow sways - a large blob of blurs, twisting. What is that? If I get any closer to our window, I’m going to smack myself in the nose. I step backward, straighten my spine, and then peek behind at the spot I left empty on the bed. Ali stays curled in the blankets, nice and cozy, while, even standing, I’m drowning in my sweat. It’s like I’m wearing a turtleneck in the middle of summer. 

I use my hand to fan my cheek for the tiniest hint of cool air as I go to the door and leave to the kitchen, where I can get some water before I have a heat stroke. 

While roaming on the wood floor, my feet are chilled; it makes me feel two times better. Past the bathroom, the little ‘hall’ parts to the open living room and kitchen. I glance at the couch as I drift toward the kitchen sink. My bones weigh ten tons, but I’ll burn like a match if I lay down now.

When I’m at the dark cabinets, I find myself licking my mouth as I bend over the sink. My teeth feel like they’re coated in lip balm. I would brush them, but there’s no point if I’m going to go back to sleep. 

I splash my face as the facet streams and wipe excess dew with the blue towel that hangs on a clear plastic hook sticking to the backsplash. After sipping some of the pooling water in my cupped hands, I’m thirstier than before. 

I reach in this shade to open the left cabinet above me; my knuckles knock into the glasses. A “shh-” slips from my lips while the clinking blares in the silent apartment. I steady and try again, taking out a plastic cup to fill with tap water, drink a third, fill what I guzzled, then stop the facet. 

Inhaling a deep portion of air, my stomach expands until it quickly deflates into a pathetic dent. Kind of like a character in a Sunday-morning cartoon where they can bend any which way to avoid being hit by a cannonball -except it’s not impressive.  

The cup douses my palm with droplets at its side. I walk over to the couch and set it on the mini-bay windowsill, far from the laptop and books coating the coffee table. I clasp my hands to dry them, then glimpse out the window where the storm plays on. “Hmm.” My skull pounds, but the sound outside is fixed enough to focus on. 

Despite being in shorts and a loose shirt my blood boils. Blankets are set across the top of the couch cushions and two plain, soft throw pillows rest on either side. I would combust lying there.

While staring at the road, I spot the truck and the blobby figure. I can’t tell if my vision is being splotchy because it’s murky or not, but it’s in the exact place as before. Unless I'm just delusional. It is three in the morning.

My chest releases a clench that I didn't feel until now. Inhale…… Exhale. I push the pin aside to ease a rising sensation in my throat. I refocus on the street and vehicle to dull the constriction. 

I squint and lean in for a second; the blob doesn't change. I step back and massage my forehead. Alright. It’s late. I’m drained. And it’s sunless. Give yourself a minute. Through deep breaths, I rotate my wrists. Why does everything feel so jumbled? 

My foot taps as I bend down against the sill. The storm reigns on, and car tires are drenched further. With the water rising, my attention shifts to the buildings. Barely, above the curb, soaked concrete tints the view. I wonder if it’s worse anywhere else in town—residential blocks, bars, coffee shops, grocery stores, on and on. I sigh while rubbing my neck. 

As long as Harper and Sal are fine, then it’s okay. Their house better be ‘fine’ with the value of that neighborhood. Heh. The first week they had the place bampás tried to hide an ear-to-ear smile; mamá laughed at him for it while she kept gazing around in awe. Unlike how the unvarying rain tugs me and I draw back to that damn pickup. The silhouette’s movements in the rear get faster. The swaying turns to careens. I raise an eyebrow; my lips part too.

Whatever the shape is, it’s darker than anything set behind it and rapidly stirring. I run my fingers through my ‘oily’ hair and back up to pace on my toes. I can’t ignore it. A sketchy truck with a figure as tall as a… - as tall as a kid - in the back seat. Hmm. 

That’s- I bite my lip. Shit.      

My heart collapses into my ribs’ abyss, quaking. I grip my hair then speed walk to the coat rack. I'm gonna freeze.

Nabbing the black parka, I shake my head frantically, then shove boots that go up to my shins on. Alright. In and out - or out and in. Don’t freeze, just run. Alright.  

I swing the door open after taking a key from the board that holds them and dash down to the ground level. As I zip the parka, my feet skid every few steps on the matted carpet. In and out.

At the unlit entry with the three mailboxes in a strip with papers all over the shelf, I toss the hood on. My legs are hit with piercing goosebumps as the temperature change is drastic past the first floor. In and out. I fling the entrance door, and the wind hits it. 

A gale cracks my entire body; I contort into myself as my spine stiffens. 

The glass accent in the door has a blurred, curvy reflection that bounces with the raindrops. I clutch the knob and glare at the truck. 

A massive, grey, hyper dog covers the rear seat. The storm pours and the dirt-ridden water rises up the wheel. The dog is jumpy, moving every which way. In a flood, it’s probably anxious, especially without its owner in sight. It sits with nowhere else to move with folded blankets on the seat farthest. 

I stand, digging my feet on top of the concrete as it slickens with ice. Inhale - this freezing, gasoline-smelling air, - exhale. I can’t go back inside… Dammit. On the other hand: better a dog than a child… I guess. 

I grip the scratchy railing with all the strength I can give without gloves and shuffle down. As I gingerly trudge into the ankle-high pool, I think. What is my plan here? Break a window- Actually… 

If Sal has to bail me out of jail- Oh, mamá, I’m so sorry. I shake my head as numbness spreads to my rosy ears and nose. My genius has no bounds. Plodding through, nearly tripping on the sleek concrete, I pick up a wet decorative stone at the side of the stairs. This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a horrible idea- 

I pass and rain slams against my skull. My legs are stabbed by the raw temperature and go unresponsive. 

The stone I carry is sturdy in my palm as I get close to the vehicle. The dog perks its head, first looking excited then confused at an unfamiliar face. I trace my hand on the chipped metal to keep balance.

The dog keeps its eyes on me, beginning to pant with its tongue fully extended. I swat my hand for it to move while preparing to hit the glass. This is a terrible idea. 

I smile with burning cheeks at the giant, uneasy mutt as it shuffles to peer out the windshield, probably for its owner. “Oh, good puppy,” I mumble while clutching the rock. 

One. Two. Three. My heart pounds. My stomach drops. And my blood curdles. Shards fly onto the seat covered with an old, hole-filled blanket, some in my hand, piercing the skin. 

No car alarm goes off. I didn’t even think about that until now. I would slap myself across the face, but I’m already numb. I drop the stone.  

The dog glances at me, then goes back to glaring forward. I reach over what was smashed and unlock the door. While opening it, I sweep the glass into the dirty water and stomp on it. Water splashes my leg. I have to get inside before I freeze to death out here- in shorts. Alright: In and out. “Tk, tk, tk. Come here, baby.” I coo at the dog and it turns to me, panting with a sad look, but it steps to the seats. I have it sniff my blood dripping hand; it licks me. As it lets me pet behind its ears I check the flowery, pink collar. “Lola, huh? I'm Kait.” She peeks past me at an alley, sniffing. “Hm.” I pet her some more. “Alright girl. Come on.” While patting my knees to lead her on I step back carefully. Lola tilts her head. 

I don’t know what I’m going to do if I can even get her inside, but anything’s better than having a poor dog stuck in a car at night. 

She sits herself down and lays on the blanket in a ball. Oh, you have to be kidding me. She has the most depressing expression I’ve ever seen on a dog. 

I glance all around. The slamming rain gets lighter, with crowns appearing less. But I can’t just… leave her here. Dipping my head into the truck, above Lola, it’s warm. What the hell- The keys sit in the ignition. In the passengers’ seat is a bag of kibble. A burning sensation crosses through me. If I’m out here any longer I could frostbite. I pet Lola’s ears again. “Sorry, girl.” 

I shut the door and rush to the stairs. Maybe I can call the fire department or the police. I don’t know. It’s not like I can just leave and then pretend nothing happened. 

The poor thing should be snug enough in there for another few minutes. You’ll be safe, girl, I promise. After I pick up the rock and toss it toward the others, my fist stings as shards dig further. I dash to the stairs. Get inside, call… someone, clean these specks of blood and glass, and wait. 

Near the front door, I lift my foot onto the slick step, hopping to the next, I slip. Plunging to the ground, I reach for the railing, but the jagged, frosty metal and jabbing sensation from the dust-like fragment have me lose my grip.

My skull slams into the concrete. The stream and downpour strike me; I can’t climb up again. While trying to force myself to keep my consciousness, colored blotches of rose obscure me before I blackout.