Taming the Wicked Rogue

Edge of Insanity

The night was without dreams. It came as a big surprise how I managed to sleep through the morning. It was mid-noon. The occasional blast of horns and screech of tires drilled into my ears. Asking for sick leave from work was a good thing. I checked the bedside table. The digital clock had run out of battery while the bottle of calming tablets had toppled over, spilling the white pills. I didn’t bother taking one ever since the first night of trying it, but I couldn’t throw it away. It cost a fortune.

Getting in a good sleep was a step back from the edge of insanity. My thoughts were no longer in a jumble. Looking back in retrospect, I had been so close to losing it. There were a lot of changes that happened yesterday -the walk from the clinic, the new neighbor, and the absence of rock music.

I whipped up the only breakfast I could make - scrambled eggs. The small refrigerator was now empty, which calls for a quick trip to the grocery store a few blocks away. I took a quick shower, dressed in warm clothes, and headed out with that in mind. The silence in the building was hard to get used to. There were times I enjoyed the loud music. It created the illusion I wasn’t alone. Now that it was gone, the building felt more empty than before.

A short, white-haired woman was wrestling with the front door when I reached the first floor. Drops of melting snow dripped down her grayish hair, and a small puddle of water had formed on her feet. She was hunched down, looking vulnerable and meek.

“Here, let me help.” I grabbed one bag and was taken aback by how heavy it was. I kept the door open with the other hand as she squeezed herself inside.

“Thank you very much, dear.” She crooned and stretched out her hand to take the bag I held. How could I let a frail old woman carry such a heavy thing!

“I’ll help you. Which floor do you stay on?” I asked, puzzled. Was she Olah’s mother or the landlord’s grandmother?

Her pale lips stretched into a smile. “I live on the third floor. I came to visit my youngest son.”

I led her up the stairs. There was a faint scent on her – I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was sweet and calming. “My son rarely ever comes home. Do you know him?” the old woman chatted amicably.

“I met him a few times, and he had helped me carry some things.”

The woman nodded. “Yes, he’s very good that boy but very shy.”

More than shy, it felt like he was burdened by something else, but it was not my place to contradict his mother’s words. We took double the time to reach the third floor as I normally could if alone. Like the lower floors, the third floor was run-down. Actually, it was a lot worse. The wallpapers were peeling, revealing the decaying wood beneath. A part of the ceiling was now hanging down, and some sections appeared to become the same. The floors produced a loud creaking noise as we walked over.

I followed the old woman to the furthest door to the right. The door was ajar, but the woman didn’t comment on it.

“Is the lock broken? You should have your son tell the landlord. It’s dangerous here in the city.” I couldn’t help but suggest.

“I already visited him this morning. The locksmith will soon come.”

She led me to the small and cramped kitchen as small as mine. There was no refrigerator or electric appliance, and the burner appeared rustic and unused. That young man, how did he even eat when I couldn’t share food? How did he manage the rent?

“Thank you, my dear. You are welcome to stay for lunch. I want to thank you for your help.”

I was about to decline when dizziness came over me, and I stayed on my feet. If not for grabbing the table for support, I would have fallen to the floor.

“Oh, dear! Are you okay?” The old woman was shocked, and she ambled toward me in concern.

“I-I need to sit. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” I whispered.

“You’re pale. Come, and lay down first.”

The dizziness this time was worse. Everything was spinning. I could vaguely feel the woman leading me to a room, and then I was laid on the bed.

“Silly me, I should get you water. Wait here.” The woman disappeared back to the kitchen.

The dizziness slowly subsided until I could sit up in bed without the urge to puke. The mattress groaned as I moved. I looked around. The bedroom was small, just enough to cram in a bed and a table. There was also a moldy smell that clung to the place. Compared to my place, this one was worse.

Just then, consecutive thuds sounded from somewhere in the apartment. I scooted off the bed and made my way back to the dining room. I had almost reached the kitchen when a thud resounded from one of the rooms, and the door shook repeatedly.

“You should keep lying down, dear.”

I stared puzzled at the shaking door. “What’s inside?” I wondered, and the woman smiled with a shake of her head.

“It’s my cat. It’s being naughty, and I had to lock it up.”

My brows raised up. Would a cat really repeatedly bump the door? I frowned but didn’t dwell on it.

“Are you feeling well now?”

I nodded and finally turned away from the still-shaking door. “I’m alright. I get dizzy a lot these days. I should go now. I need groceries.”

The woman nodded thoughtfully and watched me leave the house. I quickly made my way out of the apartment building and was about to hail a cab when this sudden urge to look back came to me. It was like a sharp instinct, impossible to ignore. I looked back with a frown, my eyes drifting upwards to the third-floor window. My lips parted in a gasp.

Pressed on the window with pleading and panicked eyes was the teenage boy.

“Are you going in or not?” The taxi driver asked brusquely, fingers tapping impatiently at the steering wheel.

“Y-you don’t see that?” I asked in shock and pointed at the window.

“What?” he peered out and looked in the direction I was pointing to, bewildered.

“What’s there?” the driver asked in confusion. His expression morphed to disdain. “Forget it. Crazy people are everywhere. What bad luck.” He murmured and sped out. I looked back and found that the boy had disappeared. Was that my imagination?

Was it my paranoia acting up again? Was I going crazy?

My hands trembled.

I might be. But f**k it. I ran back to the building.