Behind the Mask

I should have known Chase would give me a hard time. I should have mentally prepared myself for his drunken rampage. I didn't, and I paid the price.

He scuffed past me on the elevator (we couldn't take the stairs because I physically could not haul a 240 lb drunk man up five flights) and started to stagger towards my apartment.

"Chase, please just wait a second." I watched him catch himself on the wall as I dug for my key in my pocket.

"I wasn't ready to leave." I thought he said. His words were terribly slurred together. "Take me back."

I shuffled past him to get to my door as quickly as possible. I didn't want him to cause a scene. I fiddled with my key in the lock when his massive hand enclosed on my wrist in a tight grip.

"Let go." I tried to stay calm, because getting upset would only fuel him.

"You don't own me." His hot and repulsive breath hit the back of my neck. "You can't tell me what to do."

"I had to get you out of there. You're too drunk, and you almost lost your job because of it." I attempted to wriggle out of his grip. "You're hurting me."

His face changed, like he completely forgot what we were discussing. "I'm getting coffee." He muttered, releasing my hand and staggering back down the hall. I sighed heavily.

I got the door open as quickly as possible, and kicked it wider with my foot. Then I hurried down the hall to catch Chase.

A man dressed in a nice suit had to dodge Chase's unpredictable footing when he passed by. He raised his eyebrows at me, but all I could do was bite my lip.

I spotted Chase heading for the stairs. "Wait!" I latched myself onto him. "You're going to get yourself killed, falling down all those stairs."

"I just want some damn coffee! Is that too much to ask?" He fought my hold, and it was in my favor that he was weak from alcohol.

"I have coffee in my apartment." I couldn't guarantee it, but I figured he would forget by the time we got back. "Come on, you need to go to bed."

"What the hell? It's only eleven." His voice was getting louder, and I started to panic.

"Don't you understand? You need to come with me. Now!" My voice rose a bit in frustration.

"No! You never want to have any fun. Just like Greg." He loosened my grip.

He had to have known that would hurt me, that's the only reason he said it. My chest was thick, and my throat was tight. I released him. "Fine. Do whatever you want. Sorry I tried to help."

I started back to my room at a fast walking pace. I didn't want him to see me cry, especially since it would be the first time I did since that night. It didn't hurt my feelings as much as it hurt my pride. How did I get wrapped up in somebody like him? A month ago, I would have never even breathed the same air as a guy like that.

I locked my door after I got inside and flipped on the lights. I breathed in the fresh, beer-free scent in the air, and decided to make myself a cup of tea to calm down. I turned on the hot water and dunked the tea bag in my mug, still slightly wondering if Chase actually fell down the stairs.

I lifted my mug carefully and took a tiny sip. A fantastic wave of warmth coated my body, and I finally felt calm again.

I flinched at the sloppy banging on my door. "Hey, Liv?"

I bit my tongue to discourage a groan. "What?" I snapped at him.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm just...tired and I need...need to sleep." I could hear his mouth in contact with the wood on my door.

I chewed my lip as I tried to decide what to do. If I let him in, he would hopefully just crash on the couch. If I left him out there, he'd be whining all night long and I'd be evicted from my apartment.

I reluctantly unlatched the door and opened it slowly, incase he was using it to support himself.

"Go on." I said, without making eye contact. "Get on the couch."

He wobbled a bit and attempted to step forward, but nearly lost his balance. I held my mug in my free hand and wrapped the other arm around his back to direct him to the couch.

I could see his eyes glazing over, so I had to be quick. He made it just barely to the edge, and toppled down into unconsciousness. When he collapsed, his arm bumped my head and disturbed my mug of hot tea, causing it to splash onto my skin.

I screamed for half a second and then shoved my good fist in my mouth to keep the sound from concerning my neighbors. I set down the now half empty mug and pat the wetness on my jeans. My hand and fingers were beating red.

I rushed to the sink and stuck my hand under the cold water, feeling a different kind of relief than I did when I drank the tea. I pulled my hand away to see the damage, as it started to create splotches of red that would later turn into blisters.

. . .

I woke up early, before nine, and scribbled a note in my loopy handwriting onto a scrap piece of paper. I left it on the coffee table in front of Chase, as it was meant for him:

'I want you to leave when you wake up. Don't call me, don't wait for me, just go home. I don't want to hear from you anymore, so don't bother. Help yourself to some water in the fridge before you go. --Olivia'

I gathered my camera and my notebook in one of my backpacks before I closed the door behind me. He was already late for work, but he wasn't my problem anymore. I didn't care, and it felt good.

I wasn't in any rush to get to Central Park. Usually, I spent my early Tuesday mornings unpacking and shelving the new shipment of toys at Toys 'R Us in Times Square, but there wasn't a shipment the first Tuesday each month. I still had to work Thursday, probably managing the indoor ferris wheel. The only reason I got a job there is because my dad went to school with the guy that ran the place, but I didn't think the guy remembered who I was.

Central Park was always busy on nice mornings, especially down this end. I walked along the wide path, occasionally smiling at dog walkers and joggers, before coming to the beautiful stone bridge that ran over a small stream. I saw a couple get engaged here once when I was little, and I'd always dreamed it would be that perfect for me.

I pulled out my camera and wiped the lense with my sleeve before snapping some random photos of nature an people and both of them together.

I froze at a deep voice behind me. "No flash photography, please."

"I'm sorry..." I turned to find out who was scolding me for something so harmless. A surprised grin spread across my face. "Peter?"

He shrugged humorously. "It's a small world." He rested his elbows over the edge of the stone wall. "Are you some kind of over-achiever?"

I followed his eyes to my camera. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, we haven't been given an assignment yet, and you're out here at the crack of dawn shooting everything that walks by."

I dropped my camera so it dangled by the strap around my neck. "I just like taking pictures." I noticed his sneakers. "And what are you doing here, going for a brisk morning jog?"

"Going on my fourth lap. You have to burn off the extra energy somehow." He smirked. He was wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, probably to conceal his suit, but none of it was sticking to his skin with sweat like the other joggers. He didn't even look winded, just a small trace of stickiness at his hairline.

"Wow." I gawked at his endurance.

We didn't talk for another minute or so, absently watching the people doing different activities.

"So, Spiderman has extra energy to spare?" My question was delayed, but still valid.

"If I didn't run four laps, I wouldn't be able to sit through that photography class." He said. "I still struggle sometimes."

I smiled, because I could barely sit through that myself. And I was only human. "I think that's a medical issue."

"Call it as you will." His voice was almost drowned out by a round of sirens that echoed through the city streets. He looked longingly in the distance, then drew his eyes back to me.

I jabbed my thumb in the general direction. "Do you need to take that call?"

"I'm already in the neighborhood." He said smartly, and started jogging back down the path. I watched him gradually speed up into a sprint, and seconds later he was shooting webs at buildings and flying through the air, no one witnessing a single change of wardrobe.

I flinched when I thought I was dropping my camera over the ledge, but then I remembered it was attached to my neck.