The idea of having to set foot in the business district again was not so appealing… Especially after the disquieting experience of the day before. On the other hand, ending up without food and without a house was even less appealing, therefore I pushed through.

  “Don’t go there.”

  My questioning gaze met an old lady’s gaze. She had eyes as lead-gray as the cloudy sky above Icarus.

  "Pardon, what?"

  “Don’t go there. You’re still young, you can go anywhere you want. But if you stay… Icarus will chew you and spit you out.”

  I stood still looking at her for a moment, shocked and unable to respond. Under my tired eyes with dark circles, she up and went with her little trolley trailing behind her.

  For the first time in my life, I arrived late for work.

  “We sure took our time, didn't we?”

  “I did not mean to, I…”

  “I do not care. Your personal life cannot interfere with your work and your productivity. As far as I am concerned, you could have been chased by a killer or a hurricane could have swept away your house, but at 8.30 am you have to be here.”

  “I arrived at 8.31… ”

  “Exactly. So you were late. Come into my office after work.”

  Hours, minutes, seconds. I felt every single one of them that day. I would find myself staring at the computer clock. Every second was a torment. I was so tired that I couldn’t even focus on what I knew to do best: work. And that was irritating me. Another one of my certainties was shattering.

  Fucking focus.

  I would think, furious with myself.

  Suddenly while I was handling some paperwork, the computer screen had turned off due to inactivity and I had caught a glimpse of my reflection in the black monitor. Those two seconds had been enough to scare me. I was becoming unrecognizable. My black eyes were filled with a deep glower. My corneas were inflamed because of the few hours of sleep. My face was always paler and a bit hollowed. I went to the bathroom to rinse it. I hadn’t realised until that moment how much that job had changed me… for the worse. Weaker and weaker, more and more frustrated, unhappier with each passing moment, angrier with myself and the world. It was taking everything away from me. It was taking pieces of me.

  Like a shadow, it was obscuring the Sun.

  I got off at 7.35 pm. Hunger was devouring me. Nevertheless, I went to the boss’ office.

  “Thank you for coming here, Miss.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Don’t you even remember my name?

  “You know well how much I value your efforts and your commitment.”

  Definitely. You can’t help but illustrate it to me every morning, how could I forget?

  “Sometimes one needs to be reminded of it, am I right?”

  He stared at me with his dazzling smile. His gaze was creeping me out. I felt as if he was studying me, scrutinizing me, analysing me.

  “Here. I bought you this.”

  He said, placing an elegant package on the desk.

  “Do open it at home. You can go.”

  “I-I…thank you.”

  I stood up, hesitating, with the package in my hand. I turned and went toward the door. I was about to exit when a hand rested on my right shoulder and I stopped.

  "One last thing, Miss. Don't ever be late again. Understood?"

  He said smiling - a fake smile that made me shiver. I nodded and I quickly took off.

  I had always found physical contact to be repugnant, unless it was with friends and close family members. On my way home, I tried to shake off the memory of his fingers on my shoulder. But I could still feel them on me and I wanted to puke. The thought was torturing me so much that, for a moment, I lost all sense of space and time. I found myself in an area of the complex I had never been to before.

  I looked around - bewildered. The stairs were twisting and turning around me like iron snakes. And at the intersection of two flights of stairs, in the dark, I saw something that made my skin crawl. A graffiti. A writing.

  “ты же не знаешь кто я”

  I had no idea what that meant. It had been raining recently and the carmine varnish was dripping along the wall. I was getting closer to that weird writing when the alarm went off.

  Did I set it off?

  Or something else?

  I didn’t care to find out. I rushed down the stairs - the alarm thundering ghastly in my ears.

  Maybe my mind was playing dirty tricks, but I thought I caught a glimpse of someone, a few floors above me. A shadow. A blurred static figure which was staring at me. Accompanied by that deafening and pounding sound, I started running even faster. I tripped and I rolled down a flight of stairs - aching. The thud resounded in the complex. For a few seconds, I stayed there, curled up on the pavement, hugging my knee, which throbbed with pain.

  Some sounds coming from somewhere over my head convinced me to get up. Heavy and firm steps. A cold shiver went through my spine. Limping, I kept moving. At that point I didn’t care about the alarm anymore. It was better to stay in the shadows even if that meant it would have rung again and again. I didn’t have speed nor agility on my side anymore so I had to count on furtiveness. I had to stay away from lit areas as much as possible, as scary as it was to me. I was falling to pieces, my strength was sinking. But I could not give up. I knew for certain that something was following me.

  Why? What do you want from me?

  The questions were spinning in my head, uselessly, since I knew I’d never get any answers. They were nothing but a distraction from the only goal of the day: survival. So I tried to silence every question and focus on getting out of there. Once out of the Icarus Complex, I could have taken a breath. I wouldn’t be safe, but at least I’d have more witnesses around me. And I hoped that would be enough to discourage my chaser.

  I was hobbling from a shadow cone to the next. The alarm and the footsteps were always there, a constant presence. Each step was a jolt of pain, and with each one, I bit down on my tongue. It took a lot of self-persuasion not to stop to recover. One more step. Just one more step, and you’re out. You can do this. You’re almost there.

  With agonizing slowness, I dragged myself out of the complex. I crossed the street and I slipped into the gas station pub. It wasn’t a comforting place—often haunted by shady characters. But I’d rather be there than outside.