Moving Into Together

TW: Suicidal Ideation, Physical Violence

After a brief and increasingly common battle with the sliding glass door he steps out onto the small balcony and breathes in the morning air. He leans over the railing and looks three stories down to the concrete sidewalk below. Probably not high enough, he thinks. Swinging his leg over the railing his heart rate quickens. I guess I’ll just have to go head first. He swings his other leg over the railing and starts taking deep breaths. The loud hiss of a truck’s brakes diverts his attention and he peers down the sidewalk. That’s when he sees her.  

A young woman is directing two movers attempting to maneuver a couch through the lobby doors. She has long, dark hair spilling over a stylish beige trenchcoat. As she turns back toward the truck to speak with the third mover, her hair slips smoothly across her face as the breeze catches it. She has pale skin and large dark eyes, a slight nose and full lips that were painted a bright red. She has high cheekbones and a chiseled jawline. She is gorgeous. Suddenly she glances up and catches him staring. Smiling up at him she gives him a little wave. Startled, he smiles half-heartedly and gives an awkward nod, almost losing his grip on the railing. Shit, real smooth, he thinks. Despite his best efforts he begins to have second thoughts. I’ll try again tomorrow. He carefully shifts his legs back over the railing and retreats back into his dingy studio apartment.  

His phone chimes on the small desk in the corner. Another email from his boss. Chris sits down in the rigid desk chair.

Chris, the client is pissed. Where are you?! I hope everything is okay but if you don’t get back to me soon we’re going to have to reevaluate your position at this company.

- Jess

Chris leans back into his chair and buries his face in his hands. He’d have to get his act together soon, or pull the trigger, figuratively speaking. It would be such a shame to get fired before unceremoniously leaving this planet. He gets up and walks the few steps required to get to his couch, lays down, and closes his eyes. 

He awakes to a knock on his door. No one had ever knocked on his door. Speculating on who it could be, and dreading each possibility, he stands up, walks the ten steps to his door and looks through the peephole. Standing in front of his door was the woman he’d seen moving in. Cracking the door open just enough to show his face Chris looks out. 

“Uhm, hi…?” He didn’t mean for it to sound like a question.

“Hi,” she says, “My name is Sara, I’m just moving in down the hall. I thought I’d just introduce myself to my new neighbors.”

“Oh, uh, hi Sara, I’m Chris.” He extends a shaky hand out the door.

She takes it. Her hands are smooth and soft, but her grip is firm. Her nails are painted the same shade of red on her lips. 

“Well it’s really nice to meet you Chris,” she flashes a big smile, “I’m totally new to the area, and haven’t made any friends yet.” Chris wants to avert his gaze but her eyes are locked onto his. “I saw you on the balcony earlier and I could use some help setting up some furniture in my new place. I’ve got a few things that are a little heavy and could use a hand. Do you have a minute?” 

For a moment Chris just stares, slack jawed, then suddenly, “Oh yeah, I’d be happy to help you out. Just give me a minute to, uh, straighten up some things and I’ll be right over. What unit are you in?”

“305, just down the hall,” she says. “Just come on in when you’re ready.”

“Okay great,” Chris says, trying to sound casual.

Chris shuts the door, a little too quickly, and runs into the bathroom. His hair is disheveled, and he can see dark circles starting to form under his eyes. He runs his fingers through his hair and takes a few deep breaths. Okay keep it together. She’s just a new neighbor, just don’t act totally weird. At the very least you might make a new friend. Chris has never been great at talking to women, especially the pretty ones. His shirt was stained with toothpaste, and some other dark substance, probably wine. He quickly walks to his closet and, after sifting through a few options in the pile, finds a shirt that looks and smells fresh enough.

After a few more moments staring into the mirror and giving himself the worst pep talk, he walks into the hall, grabs his key off the shelf, slips it into his pocket, and goes out the door. He could see unit 305 facing him at the end of the hall, just past the elevator. He ambles up to the door, hesitates, and then knocks. 

“It’s unlocked, come on in,” he heard Sara call from inside. 

He slowly opens the door and steps inside. The apartment looks about the same as his. Off-white walls, cheap ceiling tiles, and rough beige carpet down the hall into the living room. However, he notices this was a one-bedroom unit so instead of just one door leading to the bathroom there are two coming off the main hall. The bathroom splits off to the left and across the hall another door to the bedroom. He sees Sara opening a box at the end of the hall where the apartment opens up into the living room and a kitchen along the right side. He walks to the end of the hall and sees the couch the movers had carried in along the back wall, and a TV stand directly to his left. Beyond that, there was no furniture, just boxes of varying size. 

“Ugh, thank you so much for coming,” says Sara, “it’s such a wreck in here.” 

“No problem. You should see my place, and I’ve been moved in for a while now.” 

Sara laughs, more than Chris expected, “I’m sure it’s lovely, I’ll have to check it out sometime.”

Chris blushes, “Well, where should I start?”

While Chris unpacks a TV, and begins assembling a large bookshelf, Sara unpacks and organizes the kitchen. All the while they talk, and laugh. Chris is surprised how easy it is to talk to Sara, and finds he’s actually enjoying himself. She is funny and flirty, and is constantly asking questions about Chris’ life. Few people had taken any interest in him recently, and he is so wrapped up in it he hasn’t discovered much about her. 

Once the shelf was complete, he and Sara started unpacking her extensive collection of books. 

“Wow, you’ve got some great stuff in here,” Chris says, as he places a copy of ‘In Cold Blood’ on the shelf. “Big true crime fan?”

“Gotta get inspiration from somewhere,” Sara says playfully. 

Chris laughs, Dark humor too? Who is this girl? As he places more books on the shelf he suddenly hears a loud thump, and Sara gasps.

“Ouch, shit!” she cries.

Chris whips around and sees Sara clutching her right foot. She has tears forming at the corners of her eyes. On the ground lay a heavy stone bookstop.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Chris rushes to her side. 

“I don’t know,” She says through gritted teeth, “I think it might be broken. Owww!”

Chris probes around her foot, and can hear bones grinding together.

“Yeah… Let’s get you to a hospital.”

A few hours later Chris helps Sara back into her apartment. With her foot now in an orthopedic boot, and hobbling on crutches she was struggling to get around all the boxes. 

“Didn’t even have time to set up my bed,” She sighed. 

“I’ll set it up for you,” Chris offers.

“No, no, it’s okay,” she says, “It’s late and you’ve done enough already. I can just sleep on the mattress tonight. Although if you’re around tomorrow it looks like I’ll be needing a lot more help.” 

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “I’ll swing by in the morning.”

“Thank you so much, you’re sweet.” Sara smiles. 

Chris blushes again, “Really Sara it’s no problem, I actually had a good time.”

“Me too,” she says, “Now go get some rest, I’m going to put you to work tomorrow.” 

Chris laughs, “Well I’ll be ready. You get to bed soon, heal up that foot.”

Chris heads back to his studio apartment. Exhausted, he sinks into his small bed in the corner. Smiling to himself, he quickly falls asleep thinking about Sara. 

He awakens feeling refreshed, for the first time in a while. It was half past eight in the morning, and for once, Chris is excited for his day. He hops out of bed, showers, and has his coffee by nine. He then walks into the hall, down to unit 305 and knocks on the door. 

“Who is it?” Sara calls through the door. 

“Chris.”

“Come on in!”

He opens the door and walks in. Sara is sitting on the couch, her broken foot propped up on a box, crutches lean against the couch wall next to her. 

“How are you holding up?” Chris asks.

“Not bad. I’m glad I didn’t scare you off,” she says, “Sorry last night was such a disaster.”

“You make quite the first impression.”

Sara laughs. “Well now that you’re here, we’ve got some work to do. By we, I mean you, and as a reward I’ll make you some breakfast.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Chris continues unpacking boxes and assembling furniture as Sara awkwardly moves through the kitchen preparing breakfast. Chris is putting together Sara’s bed frame in the next room when he hears her scream. He runs to the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m such an idiot,” Sara cries. “I was trying to get this quiche out of the oven and I burned myself on the rack.”

Chris helps her up to the sink and starts running lukewarm water over the burn. There are clear lines on her left forearm where it made contact with the oven rack, and they are already starting to blister. “Looks like it could’ve been worse, but those are some solid second degree burns.” Chris gets the quiche out of the oven and places it on the counter. He helps Sara back over to the couch. “I’ll get the food on some plates, you just stay here. And try not to hurt yourself please.” Chris jokes.

Sara lets out a defeated chuckle. “I’ll try my best,” she says, “thanks, Chris, you really are sweet.”

“Oh stop,” he says, smiling, “just trying to make the new neighbor feel welcome.” 

The breakfast is delicious, and the rest of the morning is spent unpacking and finishing up all the furniture. They are so enthralled in conversation that they worked through lunch. At around three in the afternoon Chris’ phone rings.

“Oh no,” he says. The caller ID shows that his boss is calling. “I’ve got to take this.”

He answers the phone and immediately starts getting berated by Jess. He starts pacing back and forth, attempting to offer apologies but not getting the time to speak. Sara sits on the couch, her right hand gripping her thigh. Her fingernails start to dig into the skin, hard. Blood begins beading up around her nails, and a drop slowly rolls down her skin.

Chris heaves a deep sigh, and hangs up the phone. 

“Everything okay?” Sara asks, genuinely concerned. 

“Well I guess I just got fired,” Chris says. “Sara! What happened to your leg?”

“My leg…? Oh!” She seems to notice the blood for the first time. “I don’t know, you just looked so stressed, I just felt so tense.”

“I’ll get a rag,” Chris says. “You’re really a handful aren’t you?”

“Oh don’t worry about me! What about your job?” 

“It’s okay, it might be for the best honestly. I don’t think it was really working out.”

“Well that still sucks, I’m sorry,” Sara says. “There’s a bottle of wine in the cabinet. I know it’s a little early but it seems like we both could use a drink.”

Chris hands Sara a rag to wipe up the blood, and goes to grab the wine. They crack open the bottle, order some Chinese food, and spend the evening lamenting over their recent shortcomings. 

“Y’know Sara, I’m glad you moved in here when you did. It makes this whole job thing a little bit easier to handle.” Chris says, looking into her eyes. 

“Aw, well it’s good to know I’m helping you in some small way after all the help you’ve given me.”

“And on the brightside,” Chris smiles, “Now I can come back tomorrow and make sure you don’t completely fall apart.”

Sara laughs. “Thank god, I clearly need all the help I can get.” 

They look at eachother, smiling for another moment. Sara reaching for her wine glass she promptly knocks it off the coffee table they had built earlier. It shatters, the red wine spraying across the floor. The living room now resembles some kind of crime scene.

“What has gotten into me?” Sara says. “I promise I’m not usually this clumsy.” 

Chris just laughs. “Well you certainly know how to keep me on my toes. Do you have a dustpan?” 

“Under the sink.”

Chris grabs some rags and the dustpan, and begins cleaning up the glass. 

“Another nice evening ruined by my immaculate motor skills,” Sara sighs. 

“Oh don’t be too hard on yourself,” Chris nudges her shoulder. “It was still a nice evening, and I kind of like taking care of you.”

“Chris, you are just the sweetest thing,” Sara says, leaning into him. “It’s getting late but you’ll be here to rescue me tomorrow, right?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Sara opens the door the next morning and Chris walks back into the apartment. She is wearing her new boot, shorts, and a t-shirt, and Chris can’t help but notice some new bruises on her left leg.

“What happened there?” He asks.

“You know me,” she laughs. “I was trying to take a bath and of course I fell down in the bathroom. Also, there’s something wrong with the drain, could you take a look? I think it’s clogged.” 

“Sure thing.” He walks into the bathroom, kneels down by the tub and peers into the drain. “Well I don’t see anything, but–” The world goes dark. 

His head is pounding as he regains consciousness. He opens his eyes. He is still in Sara’s bathroom but he’s laying in the tub naked. Looking down he sees his feet are bound. What the fuck? He tries to move but his hands are bound behind his back, and it seems there is a cord around his throat tying his neck to the tub’s faucet. 

“Sara!” He tries to scream but there is a rag shoved into his throat and tape across his mouth. Slowly the bathroom door opens and Sara walks in.

“Oh good,” she smiles. “You’re finally awake.” She is wearing a white apron, with nothing underneath and has a glass of red wine in her left hand. In her right hand she holds a long, slender knife. “Good timing too, I was really starting to get hungry, and I didn’t want you to miss the fun.” 

Chris begins to struggle harder, eyes wild, trying to get out words around the gag in his mouth. Sara sets the wine glass down on the sink and kneels next to the tub, gently pressing the flat of the blade against Chris’ cheek.

“I really am sorry, Chris. I thought if I moved to a new place, got a fresh start, I could put this urge behind me. But then I saw you.” Chris squirms and whimpers, eyes following the knife. “I’m really not so clumsy, I was just trying to be a better person. Every time the thought of sinking my teeth into you entered my mind I punished myself. But it wasn’t enough and I just can’t resist.” 

Slowly Sara brings the knife to Chris’ shoulder and digs the tip in. She cuts a small sliver of skin and peels it away with her long, red fingernails. She places the skin on her tongue and moans as she begins to chew. 

“You really are so sweet.” 

She begins carving into his chest, taking larger and larger pieces with each pass of the

knife. Chris struggles against his bonds, sweat pouring down his face. He keeps trying to scream but the wider he opens his mouth the deeper the rag goes. Tears start to stream down his cheeks. As the blood starts to fill the bathtub Chris feels his strength leaving him. The knife bites into his thigh and passes out again.