Labyrinth Boy

one- millicent

I am a happy individual.

I was born and raised in a happy home with two loving parents. I had a German Shepard pup that has one blind eye and a heart of gold, an older brother who cares a lot about my well being, and a passion for graphic design.

I got hired fresh out of college and I've had steady jobs ever since.
Some call it luck. I don't care what it is.

I work hard with a smile on my face and I found a beautiful little apartment complex near my work.

It was in a quiet neighbourhood. I was on the fourth floor with a balcony out into the street with a beautiful view of the calm chaos below. Dogwalkers and joggers took precedence in the morning, and couples in the afternoon, while in the evening it became a shortcut home from work for many people due to the construction downtown and the fact that we were on a one way street.

I decorated my apartment in light blues, whites, and touches of pink. Old wrought iron chairs with chipping white paint were placed on my balcony, while my living room had a decent sized television, a white couch, and multiple musical instruments hanging upon the walls.
The kitchen was clean and white, slick and span, I keep it clean at all times.

And my bedroom was my pride and joy. A simple white framed bed with blue blankets and throw pillows in my colour scheme, but my feature wall was made of colour chips. Pantone colour chips, pinned together and hung upon my wall.

My Skibble Ink pen hung beside it, so if I ever needed a colour, I could scan it from my wall.

I had a system. I would go to work, 9 to 3, come home, and continue these graphic assignments until 6:30 or so where I'd get dinner, and after the comfortable meal I would take a nice walk in the dark to just admire the stars.

Some may say that a daily schedule like this is boring. Its dull. But I love my life. I absolutely love everything about my scheduled life.

So I left work. Said goodbye to my boss with a smile, hip bumped my friend Shay on my way out the door, and took the bus home.

The same arrangement of people were there- a group of three teenage girls on their way home, a cute IT guy from a college nearby that I'd spoken to a few times, a quiet man in a black hoodie, an older gentleman in a suit with a flower in his lapel, and a blonde older woman with a sour expression.

"Hey there," the IT boy said to me with a smile, and I laughed.

"Hi, how's your day been going?" I tossed back, knowing my stop was coming soon.

"Pretty good, pretty good," He shit me a smile. I knew he had a crush on me, but he was always too nervous to get past the small talk phase.

I got off the bus with a wave and a smile at him, and unlocked my door. The scent of my room spray seeped into my lungs and greeted me with its embrace of vanilla and flora.

The night was rounding up to be uneventful. I didn't finish my project, but I ordered Thai from the family business that had been up for at least fifty years and it always comforted me on a lame day like this. I sat on the floor of my living room, admiring the life I had built for myself. I sighed with a smile.

I never expected to keep my optimistic attitude in my adulthood. I knew that it was going to be hard, but I enjoy a good challenge, so working hard to get my goal wasn't hard for me at all.

All of a sudden, I heard gunshots.

I jumped, skidding back to the wall behind me in fear. After taking a breath, I calmed myself.

"This is not a neighbourhood with violence, it's not a gunshot, it's just a car backfiring."

I shook my head and swallowed, turning back to the dinner on the living room floor.

My television was playing MTV- I wasn't paying too much attention, but I liked the background noise. I looked out the window to see the stars, and a new moon.

New moons were my favourite. I always thought about it refreshing the world, giving people a new start, a new life. I thought about the boy on the bus. I didn't have feelings for him, although he was really, really cute, but since it was a new moon... Maybe tomorrow I would ask him on a date. I might as well try, what's the worst that could possibly happen?

I took my dishes to the kitchen and washed them off, scrubbing them by hand and putting them back in their rightful place.

Every time my parents would come over, they'd be surprised at how clean I kept the place. As a teen, I was a complete slob, it was ridiculous. But maybe because all the responsibility landed on me, I worked better than when it wasn't on my shoulders. I always worked better under pressure.

I slipped my jacket on, and laced up my boots- The cool wind of the fall tended to rise up my pant legs if I didn't tighten the boots almost all the way- and went out for my evening walk.

I liked to look through the windows of the houses I passed. There are rich, full lives going on behind the glass and I love to know what other people's existences are like, to say.

Last week, I witnessed a proposal, and tonight, they were sitting on the couch together watching The Breakfast Club in their pyjamas. They were so cute together, I couldn't help but grin.

I kept along my route, seeing cats on windowsills and kids sitting at dinning room tables, husbands arriving at home and one interesting older woman cleaning her china cabinet while listening to hard rock music.

All of a sudden, I heard another loud bang. I felt my heart drop- There's no way there were two car backfires in one night.
"I have to get home, now-" I mumbled, picking up the pace.

I looped around the block to see a dark shadow kneeling outside my apartment complex. I held my breath, remembering the gunshot sounds I heard earlier.

I sped up to meet the shadow, and as I approached, I saw it was a man in a black hoodie. Black hoodie, black hoodie...

The guy on the bus.

I bolted to his side just in time to catch him in my arms as he passed out. I pulled his hood down to see his face.

His cheekbones were high and defined, especially under the streetlights, and his jaw was even sharper. His lips were full, his eyes were closed peacefully and were framed by dark eyebrows. His skin was pale and clammy now, but he was clearly olive-toned, possibly middle-eastern.

I hadn't ever looked intently at the man on the bus but I knew somehow that this was him. What was he tangled in?

Either way, I thought to myself, I need to take him inside.

I looked up at my floor, and down at the pretty man in my arms, and breathed a sigh of determination.

New moon, indeed.