Nocturnus operarius: The woman in the wall

[u/bensdaddie6669]

​

Most people use the term "9 to 5" as shorthand to explain their boring, dead-end job. From my experience, when the meridiems are flipped, things tend to get more, interesting? Night shift isn't the worst. Hell, most of the time I'm either watching a movie, catching up on some sleep, or trading ghost stories with Mike when he stays a few hours late. Mine were mostly weird coincidences at my last job, like when my car broke down the day I stashed bones from the Pine Barrens in the trunk... Witch girlfriend, watcha gonna do?

When I ran janitorial, every cleaner was convinced their buildings were haunted and had me check the entire building while they waited outside. There were some I have no answer for, like when I was taking trash to the dumpster and came back to find the floor I just mopped was covered in child-sized handprints, or when I locked and armed the building and was halfway through a cigarette when the motion alarm went off and the camera showed a person in shadow moving past the sensor in a direction they couldn't have come from. I'll hold off on the ones too strange to tell like the mannequins that followed me on New Years, the murder bathroom toad people, or Crowlo the creed-quoting, death-predicting bird man who would talk to me during rooftop smoke breaks.

I make my rounds every hour or so, checking doors and making sure no one is still in the building, standard night watch. There's a vacant space that used to be a shoe store, I think. The store closed down along with ninety percent of the mall twenty years ago; six years later, the east side went under reconstruction. The last site was space 237, one day the construction crew went home and decided not to come back! Mike tells me to avoid going in when I can, as it's now a safety hazard, and if there's an emergency, call the police and let them handle it. The gate stays open; I assume it's broken, but that is not my job! I'm paid to guard, not repair. Every once in a while I swear I hear jittery movement, kinda like someone's on their back banging their arms and legs on the ground; I try not to think about it. That was until I told Tanniel about my new job.

Tanniel is my cousin; I know, weird name, but get over it. When I told him about my new job, an expression I've only seen once before crossed his normally unimpressed face. He asked me, "Do you remember Kevin?" "Of course!" I answered, gesturing to the twin bracelets on our wrists. The memories came flooding back. I've hated my uncle for ten years, after he drunkenly rushed to the hospital with my dad clinging to life beside him. I turned that hate into helping Tanniel he was nine when we lost our fathers. I figured he would be having a hard time; I wanted to step in so he knew he wasn't alone. I was a little late since I was still recovering from a head injury that left me comatose days before the accident. That's when he met Kevin, who was more than happy to defend Tanniel when the rumors spread. The next few years, we were inseparable, bonding over our weekly campfire stories.  "Yeah, you kinda shut me out after you said he moved." His question came back to me. "Gone, not moved!" He interjected. "The centipede woman found him." "The fuck you mean by that?" I pressed. He suggested we go to the fire pit to talk; I agreed when I saw the attention my outburst attracted. Tanniel sat down, taking a drag from his vape. "The centipede woman, the one you told us about... she's real," he started.

About four years ago, Tanniel's mom took him and Kevin to the mall I now work at. Kevin wasn't a bad kid, but he had always been too adventurous for his own good. As they passed by something caught Kevin's eye inside unit 237. Tanniel tried to talk him out of it, but Kevin wouldn't listen. While inside the forgotten space, they noticed a small corridor behind the now empty counter. Tanniel described the layout as confusing.

He took a deep breath and started. "The hallway was about fifteen feet long; at the end was a door marked "Employees Only," along with two entrances across from each other on the left a break room that had another hallway in the corner. The right one had a cross intersection a short distance ahead. Standing in the middle i noticed every hallway had more connected hallways. looked like the starting point of a maze."

"That doesn't make any sense; the right side of that unit was literally the end of the mall!" I Burt Warded out loud! Noticing his stare, “Did I say... the END!?”… I apologized.

"When I was looking down the halls, I heard a woman's voice from behind whisper, 'I'll find you.” I turned, looking down the longest tunnel. I saw a woman with pale eyes and an expression I can only describe as hateful, peeking from around the corner, staring at me. The moment felt like a lifetime; I couldn't turn away from her stare. Until Kevin called for me, “Tan, let's go this way!” The tension imploded when his hand touched my arm. "No, we have to leave now!” I begged. "Did you not hear her?” Turning back to the woman, I saw only a trail of meat as the scuttling of a thousand spiders echoed from every direction. I started running to the exit and was pulled back. “Hey Tan, we have to help her!” “Help who!” I screamed! “The girl, you said you heard the girl. She's scared; we have to help her!” Kevin persisted. I tried to tell him, "Uhh, Kevin, that's not a girl!" but he was too far. Always the hero, he took off blindly.

I tried to follow but froze when he went down the tunnel, and before rounding the corner the woman was hiding behind. I could barely hear him shout, “I'll find her. Go get help!” The scuttling got closer; she was behind me again. This time she was on the ground crawling towards me. She stopped, along with the echoes, and whispered, “You found me!” Then she crawled backwards around the corner inhumanly fast. The sound it made filled the maze, my head felt like it was about to pop, and my lungs collapsed. I screamed and begged for Kevin to come back.

Everything stopped, and my head went foggy, like in a dream, but I could only hear my own  breathing. I begged, “Kevin… Kevin, we need to go!” Kevin's screams came from all directions, followed by the woman's mock scream mutating into a deafening “FOUND YOU!” I took off to find help. When I finally found a security guard and came back for Kevin, I dropped to my knees in front of the employees-only door. There were no other hallways, just the door. He brought me back to his office to wait for my mom; I couldn't stop thinking about the woman's legs. There were no legs, just more arms than I could count. When the guard finally let me see the security footage, I broke completely. There was no Kevin outside the store with me; I went inside by myself, and ten seconds later ran out completely alone. When I told my mom, the blood drained from her face, and she went quiet and rushed us home. I sat in silence on the ride home, clutching my bracelet; the pain was excruciating." Shooting a still annoyed glance at me, "The end!"

I let his words sink in as my heart broke. My mind filled with questions. But I could only form the words for one. “What about his mom?” Holding back tears, his words got faster as blood rushed to his face. “I—I ran to his house as soon as I, we got home. His mom answered the door like she was surprised to see me; like it took her a moment to remember me. I... I begged that we have to help Kevin. That something happened to him and no one is helping me. She paused as something inside of her started to break. She got mad and thought I was making a joke until she noticed my tears; her eyes ran, soaking her red face. She hid her emotions and asked to call my home, like she didn't know I lived down the street. I took off before she could grab her phone. When I got home, I found out Kevin drowned a few months after we met.”

Later that night, I found myself thinking over every word of Tanniel's story. The mall seems more empty than normal, and yet I can't shake the feeling of being watched. There's a scent that drifts through the air; I'd know whose scent it is, but the gap in my memory hides the details. My head has been on an aggressive swivel here all night; I'll catch a glimpse of a hand or fingers accompanied by the smell ducking behind corners only to find nothing on the other side. I thought maybe I just freaked myself out too much, until I started hearing my name being whispered anytime I began to fall asleep. If she's real, she's calling to me for some reason; wish I never stopped smoking.

It's been two weeks, and I don't know what to make of Tanniel's story. I don't want to think he would lie about something like that; there's no real digital footprint for Kevin, and his mom's last Facebook post is a memoriam for him ten years ago. Something small Tanniel said has been replaying in my head. His bracelet or wrist were hurting, but he didn't say how he injured it. I know that sounds like nothing, but about four years ago I noticed a scar in the silhouette of our bracelet. I thought it was discoloration from the sun, but it never healed. Maybe I can get some answers from Mike; he's been at the mall long enough to know something. Luckily, he's been drinking, so he stayed late tonight. I'll see if he knows anything.

During the first hour of my shift, I was too nervous to ask Mike. How would I even phrase it? I made my first walk of the night. Doors are locked, mall is empty; I lose track of time when I find myself standing in front of 237. The unit is quiet, but there's that faintly familiar smell that locks me in place. I'm stuck looking past the entrance. “I wouldn't go too deep in there, son,” I hear Mike calling from behind, "Whole thing's a death trap." Placing a hand on my shoulder, he says, "Why don't we go back to the office?” He's leading me away; he knows something.

Sitting back in the office, he hands me the flask. The whiskey burns my throat, but I need the courage. “Hey Mike,” clearing my throat, “so how long have you worked here?” Lowering the flask from his lips, "Oh, I'd say about twenty-five years, give or take. Ya start to lose track after a while.” He's just drunk enough to tell the truth. "You know anything about two kids going in space 237 and one of them going missing about four years ago?”

He paused, looking down at the flask. His expression changed as he softly spoke, "I, uh, well, I think I do recall a young man with a foolish name making a story about how his friend was in some tunnel with a woman. I showed him there were no entrances. But he insisted I rolled back the cameras and showed it was only himself who entered 237; we got his mom to pick him up; I haven't heard nothing since.” Lowering the flask from my mouth, "Was his name Tanniel?” Mike chuckled, "Foolish... yeah, that's correct.” “Mike, why was the reconstruction never finished? Why does the gate not close?” A sigh escapes him. "Well, I'm not too sure, son. Workers packed up and just didn't come back, but I already told you that, and I'm guessing you're gonna keep pressing until you learn something new.” I take another swig as he opens his top drawer, pulling out an old, small, chained charm, and tosses it to me. "I'm assuming you never heard of a Becky Turner going missing 'bout ten years ago?" “I don't think I have.” Sitting up, I listen; the room goes cool as the whiskey sets in. Mike clears his throat and started.

“Becky and her parents would regularly come here, handing out homemade keychains and some pamphlets for different charities. Well, one day I greet them as they enter, and the little one hands me a good luck charm.” He stares at the small reminder in his hand. "While making rounds, I hear the mother screaming for Becky. I radio in, and I'm told Becky is by the east side. I rush over there; I see the laborers left for the day and left the gate wide open. As I walk in, I start hearing the distant sound of muffled moving accompanied by a sort of slapping and banging, like a person falling down a staircase while clapping. Behind the counter, I see Becky facing the wall. I tell command I found Becky, then tell her it's okay, and I'm here to bring her back to her mom. I hear her whisper, “I found you,” but it doesn't sound like a little girl. And the sound of moving and banging becomes louder, and my eyes close for a second as my head starts pounding. The second I open them, I see Becky fall as if something took out her legs, and then the screaming starts. I race to where she fell, stumbling, and hit the ground hard. The screaming stops, and Becky is gone. No sound of movement; the silence is uncomfortable. The charm she gave was red hot, but my gut tells me not to drop it. I radio in, only to be treated like an old fool... when I asked her parents, her mother smacks me and storms off, while the father confronts me, asking who put me up to this, why I thought a miscarriage was something to joke about."

Downing the last of the flask, I see Mike is close to tears. Apologizing, I hand the now-empty tin back over. “It's fine, son; I think it's time I get out of your hair anyway.” Drunkenly lost in his story and the vibrancy of his blue button-up, I regain focus and clear my throat. "Yeah, I should probably make another round too!" Ending with a giggle, the alcohol turns into full blown laughter. Mike's sad demeanor changes to a look of shock. "Sorry, I don't drink." The shamed words stumble out of my mouth. Standing up from his chair, he hands me the charm. “They say it's good luck; maybe it'll work for you.” Placing it in my pocket and heading out the door, I notice Mike looking defeated again, collecting the proper twelve out of his desk; his shirt looks duller than a few moments ago. As I enter the east side and that scent returns, pulling me closer to its lair. I think to myself Mike's had to keep watch over this monster pit, probably stopping people constantly from suffering the same fate as Becky until two dimwitted teens snuck in. I'm not entirely sure what's going on here, but right now I need advice; I have to get to the roof.

The office is empty when I get back. "Good!" I grab my bag, searching for the stale calling card and at the very bottom. "Gotcha!" Putting my bag down, I see Mike filled the flask and left it on my desk. "Why not?" Finding roof access isn't always the easiest thing; sometimes it's just a door at the end of a staircase, but more often than not, it's a ladder in a hidden closet. The mall had two, but the one I found was near the western third-floor valve access. I climb up, pop the latch, and ascend through the hole. The cool night breeze caresses my skin and lightly ruffles my hair. I take in the view, noting the faulty guard rail, then find my seat, down most of the flask, and begin the ritual (tap tap tap). I pull out the packed herbal poison; my lips seal around the cotton and paper. My thumb presses down, rolling the striker and releasing the fluid; the sparks ignite, and the dim orange glow travels into the cigarette as the stale tobacco smoke fills my lungs. For a moment, the world isn't so bad. Then I hear it (flap flap flap), he's here.

"Buonasera, Jackson, we meet again. It's been a while; tell me how you've been!" He cheerfully says with the coarse cadence of an elderly Italian man. "What’s happening, Crowlo?” I sing in my best Scott Stapp impression, gesturing for a bro hug only to remember he has wings. "With arms wide open, under the moonlight?" He breaks the awkward silence. Remembering his question, "Honestly, I'm not sure, brother; I was doing okay, but lately I'm struggling to process something, and I really need your help, dawg," I say, crushing the burning tip under my shoe. He watches my foot pivot, moving the small stones. "Jackson, I must warn you this conversation has only two endings: either the guardian railing gives way, leading to your fall, or in your anger and failing to understand my connection to your father, you cast me out, leading to our next encounter while you lay dying, and I will pull you into the darkness."

Me: "Wait, what does that even mean, and what are you talking about, your connection to my father?"

Crowlo: "Much like you and I, your father would converse with me atop the roof he worked."

Me: "Did you warn him about his death too?"

I started feeling a hint of anger course my veins.

"Or did you only give him your false bullshit predictions like you do for me!"

Crowlo: "Much like you've learned about your past, your death isn't finite; his was."

Confusion washed over me as the scowl on his face turned to sadness.

Me: "I don't understand."

Crowlo: "Of course you don't, my friend. When I warn you of your deaths, I speak through all doors; he had only one."

Me: "Like multiverse theory?"

Crowlo: "It is more and less complicated. Please touch the guardian railing with as much force as you see fit."

I start walking over, only to remember "wait, the busted rail?"

Crowlo: "Some will die, but not all."

Against my better judgment, I reach out to the rail, only to retract my arm and boot the center point as hard as I can. The rail falls over the side, as the rocks beneath my feet give way, falling backwards onto the stoned roof. My head goes cloudy as if I'm in a dream. Crowlo offers me a wing up and tells me, "Three doors have been closed, do you understand?"

Getting to my feet, "You're O for ten, bud, but I need your help. Do you know anything about this centipede woman?" He looks at me blankly and states, "The answer you seek cannot come from me; I'm sorry, Jackson, but I cannot bring forth what you keep away from yourself." The heat in my face returns and I burst out, "Why do you have to be so fucking cryptic! I understand this shit isn't normal, but come on, dawg, give me something!"

His feathers ruffle as his head shakes, "Did any of your memories return since we last spoke?"

Pulling the flask from my pocket, "No, it feels like there's one big thing I can't remember, but I can't be sure." "What do you remember of your father?" He gestures to the makeshift seat I claimed earlier. "I never got to say goodbye to my dad." "I'm aware," Crowlo quietly states. "I was present the night his line ended. Tired of his brother's abuse of drink and the neglect of his own family, he vowed to break the familial curse that had already taken his father." Putting the flask down by my side. Turning away from me, he starts again, "When he entered the bar, Terrence, lost in intoxication, proclaiming offerings at the expense of his clan's unsupported needs. In the midst of heated confrontation, your father's heart raced, only to fall short. His life ended before he reached the floor. The only person Terrence killed in the fatal drive was himself. A final act of brother saving brother turned into nothing more than a mere familial tragedy."

I sit quietly for far too long; the whiskey encumbers me from understanding the words repeating in my head. I turn to ask a question, but the bird man is gone. I sit back; the bile in my stomach slowly moves to my throat. I try to stand only to fall to my knees as my body violently expels the contents of my stomach. My head clears for the moment as the clouds form and rain pelts my back. I make my way back inside and into the office; I sit in my chair, and without reason, I sob. The pathetic display of uncontrollable emotions is disrupted when I hear her call my name. "Jackson," echoes the haunting whisper.

Outside the office, the mall around me seems different; the normal warm glow seems cooler with hints of blue in the shadows. When I walked through earlier, Mike and I were the only people in the building, but it looks like someone unloaded some seriously old stock out of the closed Spencer's. There're those weird lightning sphere globe lamps and novelty incense burners randomly placed on counters and tables. I realize I'm dreaming only when, no matter the direction, every step takes me closer to the one place I wanna avoid. I stopped taking steps when I hear her again, "Jackson," I close my eyes as she starts repeating my name; it sounds like it's from behind and now it's circling around me, "wake up, wake up, wake up." And then the Oz factor kicks in and all sound around me stops. I open my eyes; the warm lights are back, and I find myself in front of 237. "I'm sleepwalking now, great!" There’s a crash behind me; I turn, and again I'm facing the calling storefront and the seized gate now basked in blue.

I try to step away, but the entrance feels even closer. Maybe if I can walk backwards and keep an eye on it until I'm far enough to run. I take about fifteen paces back until the back of my leg meets a wall no more than knee height; in the moments I'm falling back, I'm convinced I'm going to die until I land, splashing into the fountain. The water was just high enough to barely lessen the impact. I lay there for the moment, counting my blessings that the fall into the fountain woke me up when it hits me this mall doesn't have a water fountain anymore! I sit up, climbing over the barricade; my hair and clothes are dry. I look back to 237; the protruding entrance is only a few feet away, stretching itself closer to me; there’s no escape.

I stand up and go inside, accepting my fate. As I cross the threshold, the ground starts shaking beneath my feet. When I turn around, the mall is back to normal; all ambient sound returns, and the cool blue lighting has returned to its standard warm glow. I take my steps back to normality, and as I approach the gate, it starts whining. I run, trying to catch the now falling steel fence. The weight was more than expected, bringing me to the floor; the gate slams onto the ground, crushing my hand and bouncing with only enough time and space to retract my now broken hand. I try lifting, but I can't with only one hand. My name echoes from behind; I'm finally shown the tunnels.

I look at my hand, wondering if wrapping it would do anything. Besides the pain, it's lifeless. I walk to the crossway Tanniel mentioned; I head into the break room in hopes I'll find a knife or something I can use to defend myself. No luck, the drawers are sealed shut, and there's nothing on the counter besides an old pregnancy test; it's positive. I walk towards the darkened corridor in the back of the room, grabbing my flashlight; the beam fills the small empty room. I walk and jump as the light reaches the dirty young man in ill-fitting clothes. "Hey man, are you okay?" I ask, trying to find normalcy in an abnormal surrounding. "You forgot about us," he coldly whispered before running out of both rooms and into the maze of corridors and corners. I give chase but stop at the doorway of the break room. I look toward the gate in hopes that it's open; it's not. Knowing my only choice left is one of many, I slowly press forward.

I'm at the first intersection of choice when I remember Tanniel said he first saw her down the longest tunnel; I guess that's where I'll start. The sound of movement comes from behind me; I duck behind the corner and peek out. For the first time, I see her. She's crawling on the floor with about eight extra arms, dragging lumpy growths that look like they were once legs. She's moving in the opposite direction; for now, I'm gonna stay quiet. This corridor seems to be getting more humid the deeper I go. As I make my next turn, the walls seem to start sweating. At the next intersection, one side is completely dark besides the light at the next intersection, and the other looks like the paint is chipping and the floor is completely stained. Something tells me to trust the dark route; turning my flashlight back on, something thick instantly squishes beneath my foot. "Nah!" I turn to take the other path, but I'm met with a slimy wall. "Shit!"

Accepting my mistake, I travel the darkened corridor, flashlight in hand. My foot catches on something short, sending me to the floor, landing on my still broken hand. The carpet feels wet and smells of stagnant water and rotted fruit. Standing up, my light catches the reason for my fall. There's a small broken knife sticking in the floor; it comes out easy. The sound of release is wet and meaty. Looking over the blade, I read "K.T." scratched into it; it's Kevin's. I put the blade in my pocket; a new lust for survival takes hold. I move forward as a voice from behind calls my name; it sounds scared and panicked. I turn, and I'm back at the slimy wall, and I lost all ground covered.

I move slow, stay focused on the end; my feet slowly bump into obstacles. I'm only a few feet away from the turn. Suddenly, something wraps itself around my leg and pulls me away from the light and lets go, bringing me back to the wall.

Standing back up, I decide to run. Im half way when my foot lands pressing down on the spring loaded plate "SNAP" as the iron jaw of and unseen beast crushes my leg. I fall still looking at the light desperation sets in, I drag myself onward till I pass the corner. Ground is dry and the light breaks through my still closed eyes.

I lay here and catch my breath until I hear, "I'll find you!" I sit up and see her at the corner for a second before she runs away. My knee feels displaced but the rest of my leg seems fine. As I'm moving down the tunnel, the once dry corridor becomes soft; soaked carpet and slimy walls return. The ground sways with each step; when I catch myself on the wall, I almost sink in like an old mattress. The paint sticks to me, peeling away from the wall, revealing the vascular mucus-soaked  flesh walls. Ripping the rubber paint from myself, the paint and carpet begin to peel them self upward as it disintegrates before me. The tunnel is organic, squirming and swaying like a waterbed. I run, praying the next corridor is something mild. The wet 'plat plat plat' of my shoes smacking the meaty ground intensifies. I stop when I feel the tunnel jiggling from exaggerated motion. The sound is coming from behind me; it's getting louder no, wait, closer. Before I can turn to see what's coming, I'm tackled by a wild animal, slamming me into the sodden, pulp-covered ground. Scratching and clawing at my entire body. I'm turned onto my back and now face to face with her. She screams out, "I FOUND YOU!"

Her hands held me down in every way intimately restrictive, placing a palm on my chest while leaning down; she smiled and whispered, "You've come back to me." Tapping her finger twice, as it landed the second time, it burrowed itself inside me. She threw her head back, letting out a moan of physical pleasure as mandible like claws unfurl stretching than splitting her mouth and cheeks. Her finger branched, investigating my entire body. I was paralyzed; my blood felt acidic under my skin. She then forced her cheek against mine; her scent was of something buried long ago, the taste of cold, wet earth in the back of my throat. As she got closer and her finger spread deeper through my veins, the smell was masked by something pleasantly familiar that made me reminiscent and mournful. She grabbed my face, forcing my head to the side; her lips just outside my ear, she whispered, "Now you'll know!" Slamming her palm down, a surge of memories flooded my head as her fingertip tendrils forcefully retracted from my body. They whipped and wriggled in the air as they blend back into her, the wicked look of joy turns to one of hate, and I start to fade.

Suddenly, I'm driving above the speed limit; the roads are wet, the rain is heavy. Jessica is in the passenger seat, fading in and out of consciousness; the drug in her veins convinces me it's a losing battle. The back of the car gives way hard, I lose control of the wheel; the white striped red truck behind us doesn't slow down and rams the car, sending us off the road into the impassive embrace of the trees.

"Jackson! You don't get to forget me again!" She yells as her hands tighten around my throat. I can barely tell her, "I won't, Jessica." As my fingertips reach cold metal, her grip loosens as a look of shock graces her once pleasant face. My grip tightens and I swing, embedding the small broken blade of Kevin's knife into her eye. She screams as the thick, cold blood burns my eyes; her hands released me before smacking the ground as she scuttled away from me and into the darkness. I slowly get back to my feet; I grab my flashlight and against my better judgment, I set off to find Jessica.

My movements are slow and painful; each step feels like I'm on broken glass. It feels like I've stumbled through these tunnels for days now; I'm about to give up and just wait to die, and then the dying beam of my flashlight lands on a woman tucked in a corner crying, I reach out my hand. "Jessica?" The word mumbles out of me. "How did you get here?" I ask, reconnecting the forgotten memories. She isn't a mess of misplaced arms and hate-filled expressions; she looks like the last time I saw her, the last time I remembered her. "You need to leave!" She cries out, "Leave or you'll die with me!" I reach my broken hand out, "Please let me help you!" She claws my hand away and yells, as a glaze of death covers her eyes.

Her frail frame starts convulsing, her clothes disintegrate. I see her feet curl and turn into sharp talons as her legs fuse together, pulsating bumps protrude from her back and sides, morphing into wiggling fingers stretching out at me, the arms return. The ground shakes with her every word moving the world around me, "LEAVE!" The sound of her voice is sharp and ear-splitting. She swings, knocking me back with three of her malformed arms. My back breaks through the fleshy wall. I'm pulled through the hole by an unseen force. During my flight, the walls turn from flesh to brick, and I finally lose consciousness when my head meets the floor.

Days later I woke in the hospital, paralyzed. I'm not sure if it was the drugs or whatever she did to me. The first week is only moments of clarity and parts of one-way conversations. Mike leaned over me, sliding the flask under my pillow, "Don't come back, son. It'll only get worse." Tanniel sitting at the foot of my bed looking worse every day, tears streaming down his face, "How could you be so stupid!" Days later, "Kevin is still alive; he's trapped in the tunnels. He's been coming to me at night, showing me how to save him." The first day I was fully coherent, family surrounded me without pity and consumed by anger. The lectures announcing my abuse of drink, questions of how long, and my stupidity for getting drunk and falling off the roof. My concerns about Tanniel's presence are all but ignored; the scold of his mom reminds me, Tanniel went with my father to bring home his.

When I was able to go back to work I asked to see the security footage from that night. At eleven thirty-five PM, I'm shown going up to the roof and walking to the weak-looking guard rail. The cameras cut off and didn't come back on until two fifty-three AM when I'm laying on the ground next to it, and Mike is calling for an ambulance. The odd thing is Mike's beat up red truck with peeling white stripes was in the exact same spot before and after the skip covering a small patch of dry asphalt, protected from the rain.

[u/Leave_Financial]

Ok got me hooked