Tales of the Storage Space, Part 59

Despite all her own injuries, Karen caught the teenage girl who fell across the threshold of the storage space and into her arms. Every body part screamed, and Karen’s head spun violently, but she didn’t drop the teenager.

The teenage girl responded by puking all over Karen, including the clothes from Irwin she was wearing.

“Morning sickness,” Karen whispered gently in her ear. “It’ll pass.”

The girl jerked back from her as if Karen had backhanded her with a pipe wrench. “Like, I’m def not pregnant, like, no matter what you…he…did!”

Karen caught the girl’s arms before she fell over backwards, watched this teenager’s Bowler hat fall off behind her, and then heard something clatter forward across the storage space’s floor.

“My phone!” The girl dived for it, but it skated all the way across the dingy floor and disappeared under the counter Irwin had oozed over to get to Karen when they first met.

Karen made it to the other side first. Something on the underside of the counter must have activated the smartphone. Its menu blinked up at her, and her heart leapt. She snatched it up, smiling at the possibilities she’d been so long without. She should at least borrow it long enough to call in sick to work!

“Like, that’s mine!” The teenager reached over the counter and grabbed it. “And it’s fucking broken! Like, you broke it!”

Karen, still behind the counter, leaned on it for support as she looked up at the girl and the still-open door behind her.

The girl wasn’t even looking at Karen anymore, a cacophony of different facial expressions flying over her face as her fingers flew over a phone that apparently still worked. Moto jacket slopped over black overalls and a white tee that was sticking out on one side. Karen smiled, remembering a very long time ago when her guide to grunge was whatever they were wearing on My So-Called Life.

But then she frowned and looked at the outside world she hadn’t seen in so long behind the girl. The clothes she needed were her work clothes back at poor-dead Martin’s in a suitcase. But how would she gain access to his apartment? By explaining to the police that he was dead but…and this only occurred to her for the first time…she had no idea where his body was?

Who had removed Martin’s body? The police? Who had reported Martin’s death? Irwin? Something told her this wasn’t quite right, but it was so hard to piece together reliably anything that happened after she passed out just before Frank finished killing Martin. What had Irwin told the police about who did it? And how would Karen now explain her “self defense” murder of Irwin, who must have been the one to discover Martin’s body in Karen’s storage unit? With Karen, though unconscious, still there?

What exactly would she be risking to return to that job crunching numbers for an investment banking firm that she hated anyway because it involved no contact or concern for other people?

“But this is crazy!”

It was only when the girl darted her a quick look that Karen realized she’d spoken aloud and froze in the act of coming out from behind the counter and heading for the door. Still a gust of fresh air from outside swirled around her nose, teasing her. Trees. Sunlight. All calling to her even if her imaginary friend, the building, had switched into overdrive with all its…mostly 19th century…tales of people wrongly accused of murder.

But the girl was still looking up at her, now clutching her stomach again. Karen examined that young face and what she could see of her body…fresh bruises, old scars. Scars in places Karen recognized somehow, shuddering when she remembered what Irwin had done to her. But it was the eyes: defiant, shut like doors, until a wave of nausea opened them all the way up to the tender, innocent child so carefully hidden inside. Karen remembered holding her in her arms and felt something swelling up inside her.

Just then the girl heaved, snatched her Bowler hat off the street, gave Karen the finger, and darted off.

“Oh no, don’t leave!” Karen called, heart sinking. How could she have failed to help such a poor creature? Again, she was about to come out from behind that counter, despite her need to hold on to it for support, and go after the girl, but then she saw the girl leap into a cab.

Devastated by her own failure, Karen buried her face in her hands and wept more tears than she’d ever shed on her own accord, soaking the dingy countertop. But…did she hear footsteps approaching?

“I need your help!”

It was the most exquisitely beautiful voice Karen had ever heard. She looked up.

It wasn’t the girl, but an elderly homeless woman.

Tales of the Storage Space, Part 58

Martin peeled back the sheet so he could run his fingers over the girl’s naked hip.  She stirred in her sleep, mumbling, “I love you, Martin.”

It was then that Martin figured he was dreaming and struggled to wake up.  But he couldn’t.  He tried everything.  Finally he looked around; maybe he was conscious but hallucinating again.

The bed was in a room with a huge bay window.  The sky outside was blue.  The grass he could see on a steep hill was green.  The sidewalk wasn’t pink.  He heard something roar overhead and spotted not a dragon, but a plane.  Nothing was undulating.

Bloody hell!  Martin indulged in a long, luxurious stretch.  He felt great.  All those hallucinations before?  It really was just his initial reaction to killing Frank…strictly in self defense!…and the subsequent, understandable-but-chronic lack of sleep.  He hadn’t dared to let himself think about it before, but just about the only elephant, pink or otherwise, that he hadn’t acknowledged in the room then was the fear that his hallucinations had been something more.  Now, fully rested and hallucination-free, he could remember, and laugh at, the warning his father had once given him about not using too many hallucinogenic drugs for fear of future flashbacks.  He’d just been knackered out of his mind, totally and understandably gutted by the experience.  Nothing more.  Brilliant!  Life was sweet once again.

The girl stirred in her sleep again.  She wasn’t the Karen of his dreams and hallucinations.  It was the girl that had smiled at him from across the aisle on the plane, while struggling with her rolling carry-on case.  The girl he hadn’t even noticed being there until after that stop on the way across country he just barely remembered.  Funny, he’d thought it was a nonstop and must have been gutted to a point approaching death not to have noticed such a pretty girl immediately.

She stirred again.  This time her eyes fluttered open.  At first the way she looked at him was sweeter than his sweetest dream of Karen.  But then something changed.  She looked surprised, then cold.  “Really gotta pee…Randolph.”  She sprang out of bed, a sight to see naked as she stumbled about a bit, apparently still groggy enough not to remember exactly where her own bathroom was.

Martin laughed and felt himself harden, hoping she’d find that bathroom and return soon.  In the meantime he looked around a bit more.  No, it wasn’t a hotel room and looked reasonably convincing as a place she’d lived in for a while but…  Something made his spider sense tingle; something about the place looked just a bit staged, its very casualness a bit too perfect, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  Too used to seeing pink elephants, he chastised himself.

Anyway he forgot all about it when she finally re-emerged from the bathroom, thankfully still naked.

Tales of the Storage Space, Part 57

Imogene looked up at the bitch like blocking her way into the storage space and like keeping her from getting her stuff before her parents killed her like really in Real Life.  “Due?”  So much for fucking Real Life.  Imogene gave a snort of laughter before going back to Snapchatting on her phone.

WTFwasImogeneCoca:  Like OMG that bitch I just sent pics of thinks I’m pregnant!!!

^URSunPC&proud:  Zayum!  Not woke.

WTFwasImogeneCoca:  Def not woke.

^URSunPC&proud:  < looking @ clothes.  He?  She?  They?

WTFwasImogeneCoca:  He clothes.  She body.  “They” till he/she/they corrects us?

^URSunPC&proud:  < unPC, calling he/she/they “it” cuz it called u pregnant.

WTFwasImogeneCoca:  Hahaha.

^URSunPC&proud:  < never saw u RL but know u better than RL here.  U say u virgin = bible.

WTFwasImogeneCoca:  < name not Mary, not from Bthlhm, not pregnant.

^URSunPC&proud:  Hahaha but u gotta go RL & get ur stuff.

WTFwasImogeneCoca:  Sec.

^URSunPC&proud:  K.

WFTwasImogeneCoca:  Like OMG!!!

^URSunPC&proud:  ?

WFTwasImogeneCoca:  Like its clothes!!!  Like OMG, like its clothes are making me like cray cray cray cray for no reason!!!

^URSunPC&proud:  Don’t go Draking on me.  Must be a reason.

WFTwasImogeneCoca:  Like no reason!!!  Like I don’t care if it stole his clothes!!!

^URSunPC&proud:  He?  Who he?

WFTwasImogeneCoca:  Like no1.  Like not important.  Sec.  Sick 2 my stomach.  Maybe puke.

^URSunPC&proud:  But u haven’t had anything 2 eat this morning.