Stairwell to Heaven

I couldn't remember what I'd been dreaming about when I started to come around. The headache was the worst one I ever remember having. Like somebody had my head in a vice and twirled it tight then left it right there. A vaguely familiar voice trickled into the darkness, I could hear it, barely. I followed it until I was aware enough to try to open my eyelids. They were so heavy. Like they'd been closed for years.

"Are you hungry?" I knew the voice now. It was Mrs. Hawthorne from across the hall. Sweet old lady. I never asked her age; seemed impolite. But my guess is she's got to be pushing 90. No way younger than 85. You know how it is. Short, frail, skinny. Takes a tick to answer you back.

"Are you hungry, dear?" My eyes were beginning to focus now. For a brief moment I wasn't sure where I was even after recognizing Mrs. H's voice. I heard the question, but it hadn't really registered yet what she was asking me. I was still working out where I was. It was her couch and under a huge, what I assumed was, homemade quilt. Quite toasty actually. From the familiar layout of the living room and kitchen it was obviously her apartment, across from mine. My thinking was a little muddy, but I was able to get it out coherently, "Mrs. H? What...what did you say?"

Mrs. Hawthorne was busy at the kitchen counter that stood almost up to her neck. She had to raise her arms to shoulder level to even get any kind of action going. It sounded like she was humming an out-of-tune melody under her breath. She took a tick to answer me back. "Oh! I'm sorry, dearie. I got carried away here. I saw that you were startin' to stir so I asked if you were hungry is all. I know Albert has you fixed so as you can't hurt yourself. But if you're hungry, dear, I can make you a plate and just feed you. I raised my daughter and my grandson; I've fed hungry mouths before, sweetheart. Believe you me. It's no trouble." My gut felt hollow. Crunched. Empty. I realized that my hands were bound and my ankles were bound and they were bound together. I couldn't see through the quilt but it felt like duct tape. My knees were bent but under them felt like a big pillow or cushion. For my comfort? Which is why I guess I just didn't notice right away. My gut had been making space for the terror to set in. Immediately I thought of Brad Ransby. I don't know why. Brad Ransby gave me a real hard time in school. We had Government and English together freshman year. Some days he left me alone but usually he'd hold my arm down on my desk then bend my hand back as far as he could without breaking anything. I never tried to fight him off. He set in the row to my left, three desks back. He'd shoot spitballs at me but sometimes he'd come armed with pebbles from outside. Those really stung sometimes. Especially if he caught be square in the head. I had about five different routes home from school I could take that pretty much assured I wouldn't run into him. Not always, but most of the time. But I never did anything about it. I was a coward. It's the worst feeling in the world, being a coward.

"My daughter had a problem with drugs, God rest her. When she'd get real sick, she'd always come home and I'd fix her up something good and feed it to her. Right there! Right where's you sleepin' now! Ain't that somethin'?" She stopped whatever she was doing at the counter and turned to face me, but her eyes were looking towards the bedrooms down the hall. She lowered her voice like we were playing bridge by the pool and didn't want any Busy Betty to be listening to her. "Poor little Albert. It was hard on him. His momma always comin' and goin', never knowin' when that was gonna be. And always at least a little bit sick. Sometimes she'd bring her boyfriends back with her and they'd all stay in Little Albert's room. I never liked that. I didn't like none of her boyfriends, neither. They seemed mean to me. But that's none of my business. I do wish, though, that Albert had come slept with me instead."

I knew who Albert was now. I'd seen him before in the hall. Kind of a big guy. About 6'2" and maybe 270, give or take. Yeah, he gave me an uneasy feeling the very first time I'd seen him taking out trash from Mrs. H's apartment. Always in sweatpants and a stained, cheap t-shirt. The kind you get from Walmart. His hair was reddish, long, and greasy and he had a patchy moustache that had no business there. His hairline on top was virtually gone but he always had it pulled back into a slithery ponytail. When we met eyes for the first time I couldn't see anything behind his. It was like looking into the eyes of a cat in a backyard ready to pounce on something. Not thinking or paying attention to anything else but the hunt. I tried to keep my voice calm. The last thing I wanted to do was scare the old lady. "Mrs. H? Why am I tied up? Can you untie me?" She stopped for a second at what she was doing at the counter and turned to look at me with a concerned smile then turned her attention back to the counter.

"Oh, sweetheart. Alls Albert is tryin' to do is help you boys. He does that reach program for wayward boys when he's here on the weekends. Sometimes you boys are so outta your gourds he's gotta bring you here to sleep it off. I don't mind. It's a good thing he's doin'. And you boys are always gone by the time I get up! You the first one that I ever talked to", she chuckled. "Usually if I'm still awake when he brings one of you boys home he just pretty much carries you to his old room 'cause you boys is usually down and out. And if one of you boys gets sick he's got his own bathroom in there so it ain't no bother to me." I hadn't moved an inch this whole time but I was starting to formulate something of a plan. Courage, if you could even call it that. I don't think Mrs. H had any clue as to what was going on in that room. But I did. I think I had a real good idea by that point. I tried to keep my voice calm. The last thing I wanted to do was spook the old lady. She was my only way out of here. I needed come up with something to say other than I'm pretty sure your grandson is a psycho-killer and I'm next.

"Mrs. H, listen." She stopped to look at me, interested. "I know Albert...it's Albert, right?" She nodded. "I'm sure Albert had the very best of intentions but I'm in my own predicament. You see, my mother is in the hospital and is about to have a very serious surgery." The old lady covered her mouth with her frail, bony hand.

"Oh my! The poor thing."

"I have to get there right away. I guess I had some trouble and I'm grateful Albert was right there to help me." I couldn't remember seeing Albert at all. I tried to remember. I remembered leaving work. I remembered calling Joey on the way home to see if he wanted to hang out later tonight. I remembered pushing the button for the elevator but...nothing after that. "But I need to get to the hospital as soon as I can. My whole family is waiting for me. So can you please untie me so I can get there? I still have time."

"Oh my!" She pondered it for what seemed like eons. "I don't know, sweetheart. I know my Albert will be worried sick about you. Why don't we wait until he gets back, dear? He said he forgot some things and he'd be right back and to keep an eye on you 'cause you were doin' so poorly. I know he'll understand about your momma! In fact, I'm sure he'll take you there hisself." She was confident in her answer and I was screaming so loudly inside I nearly let it out. It took every ounce of composure I had left in me.

"Mrs. H, I just can't wait. I'm sure he'll be right back but I just can't take that chance. It's my mother. And my car is right outside downstairs so I can get there quick. Please Mrs. H? For my mom's sake?" That seemed to work. I could see her mulling it over and how she'd want her baby by her side, too. She toddled over to the couch slowly, being careful to keep her balance. She gently pulled back the quilt revealing my suspicions. It was duct tape and it was a hell of a job. There was a lot of it. My wrists were taped together then taped to my waist with multiple wraps around my body. My ankles were bound as well and that tape was wrapped multiple times to my wrists. Thinking back I think it was my saving-grace that I never really struggled. If I had twisted up all that tape I don't think I would've gotten it off.

"Oh dear. Well...". She tried pulling with her non-existent strength. I asked her if she had any scissors and she said she did and headed back for the counter, even slower than before. By the time she got back the sweat from my brow began to sting my eyes, which coupled with the panic, was sending me into a frenzy. She began trying to cut what was closest to her, which were my ankles. But there was no cutting happening. Not even close. In a rushed voice, which she definitely noticed, I asked her to just get one of my hands free then I could take care of the rest. I'd startled her system. She took a minute to let the shock subside. But eventually she nodded and began working on my wrist. Quite a number of times she was digging into my flesh and drawing bits of blood but I never even registered the sensation. All I could think about was how the window of opportunity was closing and Albert was going to walk through that door any minute. I knew if that happened my chances of getting out of here were not good. Not good at all. After a few years she managed to get my right hand free enough I was able to pull and wriggle it free. I took the scissors from her and went to work on the rest. I knew I wasn't, but it felt like I was going even slower than she had.

Once I was free I popped up quicker than I ever have, which gave her a start. I gently grabbed her by the arms and whispered an apology. I checked my pockets immediately. No keys, no wallet, no phone. I asked her if she had seen any of these things and she said she hadn't but they could be in Albert's old room and I was welcome to check if I wanted to. I went down the hall and it was as if I could feel the dread infecting me the closer I got. She yelled it was the door on the left, that the door on the right was hers. I looked at her then turned my attention to the door on the left. I slowly opened the door to a pitch-black room save a dim glow from the cracked bathroom door at the end of the room. I felt on both sides of the wall but didn't find a light switch. I walked slowly towards the bathroom, giving my eyes a second to adjust. There was a bed with no sheet or pillows. There seemed to be belts of some kind laying on top, but I couldn't be sure. I opened the bathroom door wide and looked inside. The tub, toilet bowl, sink, and tile floor seemed to have a rust-like color to it. Maybe it was rust. It is an old building. Mine don't look like that. My imagination was in high-gear and had figured what it was. I turned and surveyed the room with the light from the bathroom. I didn't see my things and I couldn't afford to take any more time to look.

As I returned to the living room Mrs. H jangled some keys at me. "These yours, sweetheart? They were right there next to the stove this whole time! You believe that?" Finally, a win. I needed that win.

Like I said, this building is pretty old. The walls are paper thin. You can hear a lot of what's going on around, especially in the hall. My little celebration came to a screeching halt when I heard the ding of the elevator at the end of the hall. I put my keys right back next to the stove. I begged the old lady not to tell Albert I woke up and was free. I was just going to get right back under the quilt and pretend I was still asleep. "Please Mrs. H. I've gotta get to my mom. I'm already too late as it is. I'm gonna break her heart if I don't get there soon!" She thought for a tick and then nodded. Just as I pulled the quilt up, I heard the key hit the front door lock. I closed my eyes.

Albert came in and closed the door hard. I could feel that he was staring at me. After a minute I heard his weight making its way towards Mrs. H in the kitchen. "Hey Gammy, has he woke up at all?", he asked in a hushed, gravely voice. I could hear some version of love when he said, 'Gammy'. But the rest of the words were like icicles in my chest. A desolate coldness. She didn't say anything. I was waiting for the explosion to pummel me when he said, "Okay. Good. You okay, Gammy? You know I help these boys the best I can. A couple of 'em got pretty good jobs now and not in any kinds of trouble anymore. That's pretty good now, ain't it?" She didn't say anything. I heard the fridge open and close and then a can, be it beer or soda, pop open. "Okay, well I gotta run back downstairs and grab a lot of stuff outta the van. Just wanted to make sure he was still sleepin' first. Back in a flash, Gammy." I heard his weight pound its way to the door and close it hard behind him. I could still hear him walking down the hall. When I heard the ding of the elevator door I jumped up and grabbed my keys off the counter. I looked at Mrs. H and she looked at me. It was hard to tell what she was thinking. I couldn't tell if my farse had convinced her to help me or if she sensed that there was something else going on here. Something unclean. Something evil. We didn't say anything to each other so I turned and ran to the door. As I was shutting it behind me she said in somewhat of a crackled voice, "Give your momma my love." I stopped but I didn't look back. Then I closed the door behind me.

I ran towards the elevator then stopped and thought twice about it. I turned and ran to the other end of the hall, where the staircase is. We're on the sixth floor so it takes a minute to get to the bottom, even if you're running for your life. But at that moment, I didn't feel like that. A calmness started to fill me up from feet to forehead. I had escaped with my life. I knew I had pretended to be asleep, but I didn't feel that was cowardice. It was smart. Damn smart. And the old lady had played along. Pounding down the steps I started to think about how I was going to change things. It was going to be a lot different from here on out. And if I ever saw Brad Ransby again, he was going to get what was coming to him. I was no longer a coward. Never again. When I reached the bottom floor and opened the stairwell door, I stopped dead in my tracks. The only thing standing between me and my freedom was Albert. He was big and looked confused, surprised, and furious all at the same time. He was rolling a huge suitcase and had a backpack on one shoulder that was making a metallic sound, like tools were clinking together. But I didn't cower, and I didn't try to run back up the stairs. He quickly put down the backpack and let go of the suitcase, ready to pounce. I clenched my fists and grit my teeth. Not only would this be my first fight, but the fight for my life. That's ok, I told myself. I liked my chances.