Chapter One - Part Three - Tango In the Dark

The noise from my shoes echoed through the empty hallway, bouncing off every wall, every plastic pot plant and every tacky hall table that cluttered the long run to the stairs.

At this point I couldn’t care less how much noise I made, I had to get to work, I can’t get fired from yet another job, I have rent to pay.

This hall seemed to go on forever, everything in it was the same no matter what corner I turned or what direction I looked, it was almost like being in one of those old movies where they pretend to be driving and you are totally fool until you see the same building go past them for the fifth time.

Finally I could see the stair doors. Usually these types of doors are alarmed or have a little metal plaque screwed to the door saying ‘Fire escape only, please use the elevator’ but living in a rundown building with a crack addict as a land lord, no one could care less how you got out of the building, all that mattered was that you paid your two hundred pounds a fought night in rent, which supported our loving land lords crack addiction.

I pulled the door open and started down the stairs, first taking them one at a time, but by the time I got down to the third floor I was almost jumping the entire flight at once, which wasn’t the easiest thing to do in six inch heals.

After a few close calls to a broken ankle, I decided to just run down the flights one stair at a time, although even this looked like I was one of those rhythm-less dorks playing on one of those dance machines at the arcade, looking down at my feat most of the time trying to make sure I didn’t fall flat on my ass.

Jitterbugging my way to the final stair into the lobby, I raced for the large wooden planks that where trying to pass off as the entrance to my posh abode.

Pushing these so called ‘doors’ was a mission in itself. Usually it took both hands and your feet firmly plated in one place.

I started the task of opening the doors when I herd something crack.

Both my hands retreated from the door and swiftly planted themselves on my lower back.

Oh, well there goes your back darl; you’re now a cripple, hello wheelchair.

Before I could even give my questioned injury a second thought the wooden board cracked again and came crashing to the ground.

It took me a minute to figure out what had just happened, when I finally realised that I had been standing with my mouth open for about three and a half minutes I turned and looked over to examine the door frame where the hinges for the wooden planks had been attached.

Rotted door frame. Well guess the trusting and reliable landlord opted once again, for a pound of crack rather than fixing the doors. Good to know my rent is going to god use. Rolling my eyes I quickly stepped over the fallen ‘door’ and ran out into the street.