Holding Up.

New York in the night, there was nothing like it. It was simply different, captivating, enthralling. The stars in the open sky and the bright bright moon with the numerous streetlights illuminating the streets.

She stared out her open window feeling the cool night breeze on her face staring down from up high in her apartment onto the street filled with bustling crowd. It was 10pm and yet there were people out hurrying home, rushing out. Everybody had important work to do, had to get somewhere really fast.

  She liked to imagine where they were all rushing to go or the important work they had to do. Her theories were always very random but amusing nonetheless. Even if they seemed far-fetched sometimes.

  Her mama always said ' this generation of yours need to chill and lax '. She had laughed her head off the first time her mom had said it but after a couple of times and she believed it too. Everybody needed to ' chill and lax '. But there was hardly any time at all.

  She really did have important work to do all the time. Work that needed to be done on time that needed her rushing about all the time. She worked in the mayor's office as his personal secretary. She had no illusions or disillusions about the importance of her work. And she had heard virtually every rumor logically and illogically possible. But she knew it was bound to be so. It was part of the job. The stress, the rare happy occasions, the threats. All part of the job.

Simply part of the job. Exactly what she had told her mama when she had called her earlier in the day wheezing sounding all frightened and frazzled having one of those horrible panic attacks. Her mom had wanted her to pack up immediately and come straight home to Georgia. But she had managed to calm her down telling her she was just on edge due to a project. Her mom had been okay with the excuse but not without telling her another dozen times to come back to Georgia.

 Staring out her window, she wished she had told her mom and she had come down herself dragging her back home to Georgia. But she couldn't, she just couldn't. She could handle this. She was an adult, twenty six years old as of three weeks ago which was exactly when the threats had started coming.

  She remembered vividly the first letter. It had come to the mayor's office directly and strangely enough it had been directed to her. It had looked as simple as any other letter she had ever received until she opened it. She remembered the horror she felt reading all those lies, accusations and cruel, scary threats. She remembered the fear, the way it had crept onto her all the way up from her toes. The breeze suddenly felt too chilly but she continued staring out, cold all over.

   Who was the person? What did he or even she want? But she knew it was a he. What could she have possibly done?

She remembered all the expertly spun and woven lies in the letter, every word. All pure lies. She hadn't done anything. She tried to remember every single thing about the first time the letter had come in.

It wasn't hard to get a letter to the mayor's office but it wasn't easy either. Whoever the jerk was. He had to know his way around or had to have at least a slight connection. That was really all it took. What had scared her the most about the letters were the personal intent? The threats against her mother, her siblings, her dog too.

She remembered the way the words had been scrawled harshly in bold mean ink along a plain white paper. The tone of the letters had seemed too knowing, too knowledgeable. She had told the cops about it. But they hadn't cared all that much. They had found no fingerprints and after a series of questions and she had told them she had no idea who could be doing it. They had not given her a second thought. She was angry, annoyed and she thought she might cry.

 But she wasn't going to, she was going to do something about it. She didn't know what she could possibly do. But she was definitely not going to be crying because of that asshole anymore. Not if she could help it.

  Hope surged within her and her spirit considerably lifted when at that moment she saw a shooting star. Good luck.

She was going to nail the jerk and ram her fists into his face. The cops could go to hell or wherever they wanted to infact.

  She was still at her window trying to gather her rather jumbled thoughts to fit her now firm and determined mind. She was no ninny, she went to college, got herself a degree in political science and another in History. No, she was not dumb at all.

 She needed to sit down and think over everything. When exactly had the threats started to come in? Why at that point? What had she done during that time frame that could have upset someone. She needed to think and she needed to think really hard.

 She knew it was not going to be an easy feat to try and remember something she had done about three weeks ago. What with all the work she was always busy doing? There were so many new projects that the mayor had approved and so many she had suggested too. Maybe there was someone who wasn't too happy with it.

But then, why would the someone come after her? If it was about that. It's not like it was public news that any project had anything to do with her. To the public's eye, it was the mayor. Only the mayor, why would she have been looped into it then? No, it had to be something else. She thought.

  She wanted to sit comfortably in her chair and ruminate carefully on everything but she didn't want to leave the window. There had to be something about looking out the window. It had given her hope somehow and determination and the clear mind to think rather than cry and have another stupid panic attack. It had also made her appreciate and find funny something as ordinary and mundane as New York traffic. No, she was not leaving her window.

  Instead, she went to her reading table just opposite her bed in which her cute Copo had curled himself in and carried the chair to the window side. And thankfully it was high enough not to disturb her view too much and the night breeze was still blowing in her face gently whipping her hair around.

 She felt relaxed when she sat down, her face grim. Now, what happened three weeks ago and any time before that? She started thinking.

  After much thinking and getting the help of her laptop to search through any files that could help. The only thing tangible came to her mind was the charity event that had been held during that time.

 What kind of sicko could have taken that as a reason to threaten her? Or maybe it had nothing to do with her job in the mayor's office. But she knew it was. She remembered what the letter had said, the names he called her. He had obviously thought she was sleeping with the mayor. But why?

A thought creeped into her mind slowly but surely. The person was an insider. It was maybe far fetched but there was hardly any other explanation. This person knew her too much. The angry words took a likeness to the rumors that were ever abundant. Whoever the person was, she had to know him, she had to. This time she was completely sure.

  The thought chilled her but at the same time, it made her feel fulfilled in a way. She felt more grounded now. She was sure she had discovered something. Yes, there was something absolutely true in her theory. The police hadn't been able to help her but she had helped herself.

   This time she wanted to cry for sure. With anger, with frustration, with joy. She was just tired, too tired. But she was going to nail the mad man first. Even if she had to do it herself.

   She willed herself to stay strong since sleep was hardly an option for her.

 Who could it be? Who? Who? Who?

    Greg!

She almost jumped out of her window     with the sheer revelation. No! She felt the words fall out of her mouth. But her mind screamed yes. And she believed that it was him with every single bone in her body.

 Yes! It had to be him, she could hardly think of any other person. And it was true, why else would she have someone sending her threats?

 She could remember now, one week before the threats started. Greg had been fired. Oh yes, she was sure, it was him! He had been fired due to his own behavior but of course he would blame it on her. The slime ball! He was nothing but a slimy piece of shit that can't keep it in his pants.

  He was nothing but a sexist bastard who loved assaulting women. And he had made the horrible mistake of trying to threaten and force her into sleeping with him. The damn bastard!

 Oh yes, she remembered now. She found it incredulous how she could have even forgotten. But she had had other important things on her mind. She hadn't given another day's thought to stupid Greg Callaway.

   She didn't feel tired now, not at all. She felt angry, boiling mad. Oh, she was damn pissed at herself at the police. She was going to kill Greg. She knew exactly what he had wanted for her to lose it, to be scared shitless and resign. He had a hell lot of different coming for him. He better be damn well pleased that he had succeeded in scaring her out of her wits for the past weeks. Because she was going to make sure he didn't get away with anything.

  She screamed out the window probably startling a whole street of people if they heard her but she didn't care. She had been scared, so damn terrified for nothing. She ran back to her drawers and pulled out the letter that had come today. She opened it and stared at it this time and she didn't have a panic attack, not this time. Nor did she cry this time. No! What she wanted to do was a thousand shades more violent.

  She read through it again and this time, she could see it fitting in with a angry Greg. It just fit too much. And only him would have thought it better to write the letter with his hands. He probably thought typing and printing it out was too impersonal and email was probably not his style either. It fit too much. It was definitely Greg.

 She studied the letter some more and then it hit her. The writing was bent to the left side of the paper. The writer was left handed. She frowned. Was Greg left-handed? She didn't remember. But she did.

Yes, she did. She remembered seeing him one day writing something with his left hand and he had quickly dropped his hand and switched hands as if he had been caught committing a crime. She remembered wondering why he had acted so awkward like it was some big deal or a kind of freakish disease.

  And now, she was absolutely sure. If she was sure that she needed air to breathe, then it was hardly comparable to how sure she was that Greg was her letter writer. It must have been easy for him to make sure the letter got to her.

She couldn't believe it, it was unbelievable and yet it was absolutely believable. All those days in the police station, those days crying on her desk hiding the tears and it was him.

  All she did was simply to look out the window and she had not only seen an ordinary but yet still somehow beautiful night but she had seen much more. The answer!

 Now, that she was without doubt a 100 percent sure. She was going to curl up with cute Copo and sleep as peacefully as possible and tomorrow morning. She was going to dress up real good in that hot black dress and fuck you–heels she loved and she was going to get the damned bastard — Greg Callaway. Whether the police decided to help her or not.

  She smiled out the window and took in a deep breath before shutting it and going back to bed.

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