Stepping Into The Unknown

The sun did not rise in a bright and optimistic blaze. That same weight clung to my chest when I woke up, and it dragged itself over the city like a dark, melancholy sheet. Warm and cozy, Vanessa's little apartment was filled with throw cushions, unfinished artwork, and the lingering aroma of coffee from her daily habit. But I still had worry here. The weight of my phone served as a continual reminder of the text message I had yet to respond to, making it an anchor in my pocket.

"Damien." Even just thinking about his name made me feel unsafe, like if I should keep it hidden to prevent harm.

"You're awake," Vanessa said as she hurried into the room in her typical morning haste. With a hot cup of coffee in one hand, she held her blond hair in an untidy bun. "How did you sleep?"

I said, massaging my temples, "Hardly." The way Damien had made his message seem like a dare had caused my mind to spin. As if meeting him at Delmonico's were that easy. As if he might help me forget the debt that was hanging over me.

Vanessa softened her gaze. "Look, I understand that this is difficult, but I will support you through it." She held the cup tightly as if she could use pure effort to instill hope in me. "We can come up with more ideas after work."

Feeling the coffee penetrate into my bones as if it might prepare me for the day, I gripped the warm cup. I'm grateful, Ness. Indeed.

She glanced at the duffel bag she had brought for me, which was now melancholyly resting near the sofa. "Have you checked your bank account?"

I recoiled. “No.”

Sighing, she said. So let's work together. It may sometimes be less daunting to face it alongside a buddy.

I felt a strong tightness in my chest. Vanessa was correct when she said that ignoring the mess would not make it go away. However, when she grabbed her laptop, my phone began to vibrate once again. With fear twisted into a knot of eagerness, I looked down.

The communication this time came from my landlady. *You owe Audrey a month's rent. We must get payment by the end of the week, or I will be forced to begin the eviction process.

The cup fell out of my grasp and shattered on the ground. I sprang back with a choked cry as coffee splattered on the wooden floor. As soon as she understood what had occurred, Vanessa's look changed from one of worry to one of something deeper.

I bent down and said, "Damn it." I pushed back the hot tears that burnt my eyes and used my sleeve to scrape at the mess. “I apologize.”

Vanessa fell next to me and picked up paper towels from the counter. "Hey," she murmured in a steady, quiet voice. "It's only a cup." Do not be concerned about it.

But it was more than a cup. Everything was breaking around me, everything I could no longer keep together. As I attempted to collect the shattered bits, my hands shook, but Vanessa gently drew them away. "Cease," she demanded, her voice breaking. "You are causing yourself harm, Audrey."

My fingers were sliced, and I discovered this too late, with small red lines appearing along the creases. A bitter chuckle that bordered on hysteria strangled me as blood mingled with coffee. "Even cleaning up a spill is beyond me without making it worse."

Vanessa pushed the paper towels away and pressed her hands to my face, making me look into her eyes. "Remember, you're not alone." Her tone was ferocious and urgent. "We will find a solution."

I gave a nod, but we both understood that she could only do so much. The care with which she wrapped my fingers after releasing me shattered something inside of me. My life was crumbling, piece by piece, and I was running out of time, but I wanted to believe in her optimism.

After leaving Vanessa's flat, I entered the city with a raw sensation and tense nerves. As the chilly wind nipped at my cheeks, I pulled my light jacket closer and made my way to the train. A sea of strangers enmeshed in their own anxieties, the early throng rushed and jostled. I passed through them like a ghost dressed in borrowed clothes.

His invitation was like a brand in my head, even if I didn't want to think about Damien. *A single evening.* It mocked me, a sultry murmur that promised to yank me from the ruins of my existence, if only for a few hours. The bandages were scraping on my hands as they clenched into fists in my pockets. The brutality of reality made it impossible for me to afford to indulge in imagination.

My resolve was faltering by the time I arrived at work, which was a little marketing office on the fifteenth story of an anonymous skyscraper. I was met at the door by my employer, Mr. Larson, who had a frown on his face. "Audrey," he growled. My workspace. Now.

It made my heart sink. An additional crisis was the last thing I needed.

He closed the glass-walled room door a little too forcefully, and I followed him inside. Sitting behind his enormous desk, his beady eyes pierced me, and his bald head shone in the fluorescent lights. "What on earth is wrong with you?" he insisted. "There are several mistakes in the previous three reports you have submitted. You're not focused and distracted.

I felt a knot of shame in my stomach. "I apologize," I said. "Despite my busy schedule, I'll perform better. “I swear.”

Leaning closer, Mr. Larson's voice lowered to a menacing roar. You'd better. Because I'll be done with you if I see one more error. And don't ever imagine that I won't take your place.

Like a guillotine, the menace hovered between us, piercing and merciless. I forced myself to swallow, resisting the need to weep. "Received."

I staggered back to my desk, my eyesight dimming, as he waved me away. Despite the clacking keyboards and hushed discussions that filled the room, I felt empty. The walls seemed closer than they ought to be, and my chest began to swell until I was unable to breathe.

Once again, my phone buzzed, and I took it out almost without thinking. Damien has sent another message. It doesn't seem to me that you shy away from a task. * See you tonight?

My pulse was racing as I forced my eyes tight. With options I couldn't afford, the world was making fun of me. In order to feel like I could control *anything*, I needed to shout and break something. I opened my eyes instead, my fingers lingering over the keyboard.

"You don't know anything about me," I wrote, my annoyance showing through the text. However, I didn't submit it. I couldn't. I fought so hard to disguise my need for escape, and Damien *did* know something about me since he had seen my desperation.

Tears pinched my eyes and the words became blurry. With my attention on the screen, I swiped them away. I felt the weight of the world bearing down on me as I contemplated the option. Go over to Delmonico's, or let Damien go and deal with my deteriorating life on my own.

"Dammit," I muttered as I typed my answer at last. *Okay. I will be present.

Before I could doubt myself, I sent it, the confirmation echoing like a gunshot. Dread and relief mingled in my chest, but I made myself concentrate on the job at hand. Nothing would be resolved by one night. But perhaps—just possibly—it might be sufficient to prevent me from shattering.