Chapter 6: I'm still here
Stepping out into the crowded hall, I tried to make myself invisible, but a group of young men loitered nearby. Their catcalls pierced through my attempt at isolation. "Hey, beautiful, turn around! Let us see that pretty face to match that body!" they jeered.
I quickened my pace, their laughter ringing in my ears. Today had already stripped away so much; I couldn't bear this additional violation of my space, my sense of self. My heart pounded, with rhythm of my hurried steps.
Finally reaching the relative safety of my apartment, the door slid shut with a hiss, sealing me off from the world outside. I leaned against it, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of my tears. The events of the day – the robbery, the police interrogation, the loss of my job, the jeers on the street – crashed over me in waves.
Exhausted and overwhelmed, I composing a quick message to Castor Reid. "Sorry, can't make it tonight. Too much happened. I'll be there tomorrow." I hit send, feeling a twinge of guilt for breaking my promise but knowing I couldn't face any more challenges today.
I wandered into the tiny kitchenette of my apartment, the familiar clutter somehow comforting in its constancy. My hand found its way to a can of beer tucked away at the back of the fridge – a relic whose origins I couldn't recall. I never drank beer; the bitter taste never appealed to me. But tonight, it seemed like the only fitting companion.
Holding the can, I felt its cold, slightly damp surface, a stark contrast to the dry warmth of my palm. I popped it open, the hiss breaking the silence of the room. Taking a deep gulp, I braced myself for the taste, but to my surprise, I drank it in one continuous motion, the liquid flowing down my throat without a gag reflex. The sharp, hoppy flavor and the cold fizziness felt oddly satisfying, a small rebellion against the day's turmoil.
Peeling off my clothes, I left them in a crumpled heap on the floor. Each garment felt like a layer of the day's stress being shed. In just my skin, I stepped into the shower, turning the knob until the water cascaded over me in a warm torrent.
The water enveloped me, droplets drumming against my skin, rhythmic and soothing. Steam rose, filling the small bathroom with a humid embrace. The scent of my mild soap mingled with the steam, a clean and comforting smell that contrasted sharply with the city's constant mix of neon and metal. I closed my eyes, letting the water course over my head, down my back, tracing the contours of my tired body.
As the water washed over me, I could almost feel the stress melting away, diluting in the stream like ink in water. The tightness in my chest began to ease, giving way to a weary numbness. I stood there under the spray, motionless, letting the water carry away the remnants of fear, anger, and helplessness that the day had etched into me.
For those few minutes, enclosed in my shower's cocoon, the chaos of Crystal City seemed a world away. Here, in this small, steam-filled sanctuary, I found a brief respite – a place where I could breathe, where I could just be Marlene, just me.
Eventually, the water began to cool, and I knew I couldn't stay hidden forever. Reluctantly, I turned off the shower, stepping out into the chill of the bathroom. Wrapping a towel around myself, I faced my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. The person looking back seemed foreign – a shadowed version of myself, still standing despite the day's blows.
Standing in the dim light of my apartment, the cool air brushing against my skin, I stared at the bottle of "Nebula Blaze" whiskey in my hand. It felt heavy, filled with unfulfilled promises and now, a solitary comfort. I had bought it to celebrate with Uncle Chen, Castor, and even Tommy – a shared moment of joy for what was supposed to be a big step forward in my career. But life, as always, had other plans.
I lifted the bottle to my lips, the towel fall on the floor. The whiskey was smooth yet potent, each mouthful burning a trail down my throat, a fierce counterpoint to the vulnerability I felt. Drinking alone wasn't my style, especially not straight from the bottle, but tonight was different. Tonight, I needed this.
I moved towards the window, the glass cool against my skin. Outside, Crystal City was alive – a sprawling canvas of light and shadow, dreams and despair. In its embrace, I felt both lost and strangely at home. The city had a way of doing that – it could chew you up and spit you out, but still hold you in its mesmerizing grip.
The whiskey emboldened me, lending a temporary courage.As I stood there, the alcohol warming my insides, a defiant spark ignited within me. I wasn't going to let this city, with all its harshness and cruelty, break me. I was Marlene, a fighter, a survivor.
I glanced at the clock – it was late, or maybe early by now. I should have been scared, alone in my apartment after everything that had happened.
Holding the bottle of Nebula Blaze, I caught my reflection in the mirror. The dim light of the apartment cast shadows across my body, creating a mosaic of light and darkness that seemed to mirror the turmoil inside me. I took another swig of whiskey, the heat of it spreading through my body, a temporary shield against the cold reality of my situation.
My eyes traced over my reflection, lingering on the contours and scars that told stories of a life lived in the underbelly of Crystal City. The hopes I had harbored for landing a job at TriColor Corp seemed like distant fantasies now, snuffed out by the harshness of the day's events. But at least, for this month, my rent was paid. That was one less burden to bear in the immediate chaos.
I took another mouthful, savoring the burn, letting it fill the void where my dreams had been. It wasn't just the physical warmth of the alcohol; it was a fleeting escape from the weight of my worries.
A mix of emotions churned within me. There was anger, certainly, at the injustice of it all – at being punished by FreshMart, the fear instilled by the robbers, at the cold dismissal from the police officer. But there was also a resilient determination, a refusal to be broken by the city's relentless pace and its unforgiving nature.
"I'm still here," I whispered to my reflection, the words barely audible over the hum of the city outside.
I set the whiskey bottle down, the clink of glass against the counter echoing in the quiet room. Tomorrow, I would have to face the reality of finding a new job, of navigating the treacherous streets without the security of steady work.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone