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Z.
Y.
X.
Uh.I recite the whole alphabet until I find theW.
Fuck. What comes after that?
Boom! Boom! Boom!The pounding gets harder, like it’s done by an open palm and not knuckles.
U... comes after that.Up—Upstairs.
Tiptoeing backward, I focus on the steps as an attempt to stay centered. Not that easy when I can see the silhouette of a man through the glass window—one wrong move and he’ll see me.
Pressure. I’m not that good with it in a non-controlled setting.
Part of the reason why I didn’t cut it in school? Mental blocks when questioned during oral exams, stuttering through some of the responses, but those weren’t as bad as my flight response. Running out of the medical building occurred once or twice, but when I forced myself to stay? That’s when shit hit the fan. I bolted out of my mind by passing out. Multiple times. Can’t exactly be a doctor if I’m unconscious. Definitely can’t help people if I can’t even help myself.
The other part was—
Another bang on the door rips through the air, knocking me back and leaving my sorrows in the past where they belong.
Oh, crap.I wobble on the platforms. Ankle touches the side of the table. Then kisses my other ankle. Then it, along with the side of my foot, graze against the floor.
I attempt to right myself by sticking both arms out.
Steady,I will my body for a split second as I stupidly attempt to crane the air while lifting my injured leg up.
Ass weighs more than leg. My center of gravity shifts.
Oh.The imbalance tips my body back; I stumble around on the dang stripper shoes until I collide with the shelf on the wall, landing my butt cheeks on the floor. The heap of latex dildos join me.
Smooth,I tell myself as I attempt to stand without puncturing the merchandise. I’d have to take those as a loss, and although I’m currently swimming in a pile of dicks, I’m not exactly milking them for cash.
“Open the door.” The words come in English, which catches me off guard.
A man’s voice, anxious but not threatening, comes again,“I know you’re in there. I can hear you.”
Stand. Perfectly. Still.
I’m going to take these shoes off and head upstairs to find that second exit Mama Rosa mentioned once. If that doesn’t work, I’ll get a knife, and defend myself... then I’ll probably go to jail when the cops show, not that anyone would call them— I shake my head free of the crippling negativity.
It’s way too easy to let myself succumb to it.
Find the positives,Mama Rosa had once told me.
Okay. I search through the area in search of said positive. I see a mess, that if I survive, I’ll have to clean.That’s a negative.
I have dildos! I can throw them at the man.That’s a stupid positive.
My ankle doesn’t hurt... but it’s warm to the touch, so probably—No! Focus. Focus, Neve.
I’ll probably die tonight and won’t have to worry about money or messes or failure or anything.That’s kind of a positive, in a fucked up light.
Progress.
When no more sound comes from the exterior of the shop, I almost relax until I spot my coat and purse on the floor near the door.
