Chereads / //////// / Chapter 1 - |Chapter 1: Iris's POV|

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🇧🇩authorpoheli
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Synopsis

Chapter 1 - |Chapter 1: Iris's POV|

I cannot believe I am about to start again like this. This cheap place will feel like a downgrade, but who cares? It's all that I can afford now anyway. This old building makes my skin crawl but beggars can't be choosers, right?

I cursed under my breath and shoved open the door to my new apartment, then I stepped inside. Typical LAX, I put my suitcase down and looked around. The living room was a barren wasteland, save for an ancient couch and a shitty little coffee table. The kitchen was a countertop with a sink and a stove.

"Oh well, this will have to work," I muttered to myself.

Day one in the new apartment was a whirlwind of unpacking and arranging. With the exception of almost killing myself a few times, all went according to plan… I mean, It's just weird calling this place "home". It was minimal and poorly decorated, but at least it was mine where I could sleep at the end of an exhausting day.

I finally, all worn out, made my way up to the rooftop to wind down from my day.

When I came up on the roof, a cold night air met me bringing some peace among those furious days. The roof was vacant as the lights in the city stretched out before me, lit up like a field of stars resting on the ground.

It was then when I saw him – a figure standing in the corner. My heart fluttered and I got chills. Who could be up here so late?

"Look who's talking!" My mind said. Not that I can blame anyone; after all, here I am at this hour!

As I inched myself towards the tall mysterious figure, a hand automatically latched onto my necklace. I held onto the pendant with its familiar touch and that brought me some relief, but this strange dread only seemed to compound. Every time my foot tapped down the hallway, I beat harder and faster in the chest, playing with the necklace hanging around my neck as the chill metal calmed me on approach.

He wore black and was standing on the edge of the roof. A man with blond hair and intense blue eyes. His fine clothes seemed out of place as if he'd walked out of the…palace. It can't be.

I took a step closer. "Hello?" I called out softly.

No response…

My heart thudded in my chest, a mix of fear and curiosity. Who was this man, and what was his reason for being here? My mouth was dry, but I managed to whisper, "Hello?"

The man actually turned to me and his expression was a mixture of surprise. And then he disappeared before I could say one more word and there was nothing but bafflement in my lungs, everything else followed him back home. I was wondering if what I saw had really happened — or was just a trick of the light.

Then, shaking my head I say to myself, "Come on; you must be imagining things. It's been a long day."

Or, perhaps my overtired mind was playing tricks on me. Brushing off the creepiness, I assured myself it was just my imagination and headed back to my apartment.

On the walk back to my apartment I found myself thinking about that strange guy. I fingered the necklace I wore throughout my sleep. It was a little silver token my mother had given me on my eighteenth birthday, she said would protect me. I have not removed it since the day they died. I sometimes wonder if it has any real power, or is just a relic of the life I left behind. But it is all I have of them now, and even a faint hope can be enough.

That man on the roof was still fresh in my memory. Who was he? And why suddenly he just disappeared? Those questions played through my mind until I got so sleepy and fell asleep.

I'm Iris Ember — another girl making her way through this cruel world. Since my parents died, life appeared to bend in ways I never anticipated.

Now, I find myself alone, scraping by in a rundown apartment that barely qualifies as shelter. Isn't it ironic, how fate can slap everything in your face at the same time?!

Today was just another day of trying to survive. Moving into this new place was supposed to be a fresh start, establishing myself as an independent adult — but it felt like a flimsy lifeboat being launched against the tide. And I need stability so badly. The weight of the responsibility took me back to my past. For work to do, groceries to be bought— an endless cycle of concern and anxiety. But as a result of all the chaos, there was one thing that became abundantly clear: I need a job, and I need it fast.

Tomorrow, my mission is clear: to get a Goddamn job. The only way to keep from becoming homeless, kicked onto the street from yet another temporary shelter. I am resolute as I walk toward the collapsible door, ready to face a world beyond these ruins because it is my dicey existence.

______________________________________

Sorry is quite a surprising word, isn't it? Sometimes it just destroys everything, other times? Fixes all issues so effortlessly. Damn, all experience-seekers! Wasn't he a newbie at first?

"Unfortunately, we have to let you know that we can't hire you because of your lack of relevant experience in this field. Experience is an issue here. We hope your day goes well." It was the call of ridiculousness, as typical. Hire me if you're sorry! Even if you apologize, that shit will still ruin my day cause you ain't hiring me.

The interview had gone about as well as all the others—polite smiles, the same tired questions, and that inevitable sentence: "We'll be in touch." Translation: "We're sorry but you got no jams."

I stumbled through the door of my apartment, slamming it shut behind me. Day two of just one more no. Another interview, another rejection. At times, I think about such a simpler past — before the world went on to test me. Those days an awful day was fixed with a hug from my mum or words of wisdom from my dad. Now I am left with nothing to lean against but silence, an empty flat haunted only by their absence. My feet shuffled on the concrete as I removed my shoes and attempted to shed the heaviness of all that accumulated pain and weariness with it. I tossed my bag onto the old couch and I collapsed next to it. I heard those creaking springs supporting my weight.

I am lost and I have to say, the last time I felt this way was after that funeral. When the condolences stopped the reality of being alone finally sank in. At least I still had our old house at that point. Now, I don't even have that.

Rubbing my temples to ward off the brewing headache, I desperately need a job. I will be homeless if I do not find something. So I asked myself… What the hell am I going to do next— Gather cans on my unicycle? Why not?!— Oh well…I don't have that as well. Guess I have to take up part-time jobs or something just to be able to pay the bills. Starvation isn't an option.

I let out a long sigh, trying to push away the frustration. "I'm never going to get a break," I muttered, staring up at the ceiling. The cracks above seemed to look alike. Oh! That's me cracking up…

Three minutes of self-loathing later I got myself back up. I just had to get out of the funk for a little bit. I scrambled to the bathroom, at this point, I was only thinking about a hot shower. The idea of hot water was my only motivation.

The water wasn't even warm, it was lukewarm at best but enough to wash away the dust of the day and soothe my muscles. I stood with my face under the pathetic little flow, trying to wash away a sense of disappointment as I reminded myself that I was still alive for at least one more day in this goddamn city. If nothing else, surely that had to count. At the very least some credit had to be given, correct?

After the shower, I changed into some comfortable clothes and went up to the rooftop again. The cool evening air was a welcome relief, and I hoped that would do the trick for my mind. City lights had started to twinkle and a dim light spilled over their balcony. Up here the chaos below seemed almost…peaceful.

Making my way to the edge of the roof, I leaned against the railing looking out over the skyline. The hum of the city whispering underneath but I was already somewhere else … lost in my thoughts, with images flickering like a reel inside me—this never-ending struggle— my parents who would make profiteroles to calm my troubled heart, and the man from last night…

As if by wishful thinking— there, that figure at the edge of the roof... My heart skipped a beat. It was him. The same guy from last night but…

What the actual fuck? Why is he standing like that?—