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I take the doorstops out one at a time, wedging them under the door tightly.
Once that’s done, I switch on the lights.
Stacks of boxes are piled up all over the living room.
Just looking at them makes me tired, but I know if I put this off, I’ll only end up soaking them when I have a shower and realize I don’t have any towels unpacked.
I put my purse down on the kitchen counter, and I open the first box.
Kitchen stuff. I pick it up and place it beside the counter.
The whole kitchen looks a bit dusty, so I decide I’ll find the cleaning supplies before I do anything else. Several ripped open boxes later, I start cleaning. When that’s done, I start unpacking.
I find the towels, and my clothes and I make them the priority, knowing I’ll be too tired to keep this up for much longer. I stash away the box of plates and mugs after I’ve filled up the closet and stacked the towels on the shelves next to the bathroom door.
There are tons of boxes of less important stuff.
I leave those for the morning.
It’s not like I have a job to rush out to anyway.
At least, not yet, but that’s the next thing on my list.
Right after I sleep for twelve hours straight.
Chapter Six
Leanne
After about an hour and thirty minutes of sleep between approximately four thirty and six a.m., and another hour of lying in bed feeling too tired to move while simultaneously too awake to sleep, I finally manage to drag my weary ass out from under the covers.
The adjoining bathroom is small enough to be a pain to move around in, but I somehow manage to clean up and shower without bruising any limbs. I step back into the bedroom and dry off before I take a fresh bandage out of my purse.
I take my time getting dressed, making sure I’m wearing something professional since I’ll be on a job hunt today.
Plain black underwear, pantyhose, black pencil skirt, dark blue cami under a sheer dark blue blouse.
The colors are me, but the look really isn’t. That’s one thing I can’t stand about working in an office.
I get to look like I’m Little Miss Prim and Proper.
There’s not much I can do about that. My only real work experience is clerical.
Then, I realize I made one mistake last night when I got home from Secret’s apartment.
I only unpacked clothes and toiletries. My shoes are in another box in the living room.
I do my make up in the bathroom mirror, and I clip my long dark hair back, before I’m ready to leave the room. Removing the doorstops from the bedroom door takes seconds, but I have a hard time forcing myself to put them under the bed instead of back into my purse.
I’ve been so used to carrying them around.
It feels weird to stop, but it would feel even weirder to have everyone stare at me if they fell out of my purse in public.
Who the hell carries doorstops around in their purse?
This might not be the apartment where I almost died, or even the same building, but I know it’s pretty much identical to that one, because I overheard Seth and Ryan talking about it.
I don’t remember too much about that night.
