The Girl on the Ninth Floor

Late at night. It's raining. A city rooftop. All Ella Brooks was attempting to do was deliver a set of art supplies to a customer. Ella detested late deliveries, but she was unable to refuse her boss's entreaties. She grabbed her bag and ran down the street. The rain made the city lights hazy. She heard voices above her and looked up. Voices of anger. A man yelling for assistance. Ella stopped. On the edge of the rooftop was a figure. He was grabbed by the collar by another man. "Please—wait—" The man was pushed, and Ella watched in horror. He went down. A sickening thud reverberated through the deserted street as he struck the pavement. With a gasp, Ella took a step back and covered her mouth with her hand. Leaning over the edge, the man on the roof peered down. He caught sight of her. Ella staggered back. Her legs became weak. The street seemed to go on forever, but she forced herself to run. She trembled as she came to the corner and hid behind a skip. Her cell rang. A message from an unidentified phone number. "I noticed you." She gasped. She glanced up at the rooftop once more, but the figure was no longer there. In the distance, sirens cried out. The fall was reported. The officers exchanged glances when she attempted to wave them over and explain what she had seen. "Ma'am, this appears to be a suicide," the senior officer said. "No," Ella said in a tremulous whisper. "He was pushed by someone." However, they didn't think she was real. They took her statement, wrote it idly, and walked away. Ella stood by herself in the rain, her heart racing. Her face had been seen by someone outside. Someone who had recently murdered a man. And they were fully aware of her identity. It was too quiet at night. Too gloomy. Ella wished she had never gone outside for the first time in her life.