Wasted

Lauren gripped the handrail nailed to the wall and pulled herself to the top of the stairs with a huff. Her knees were raw from crawling on the grainy sidewalk, and in turn her journey up the steps had been more of a pain that she would have imagined. She pushed back a lock of red hair and entered her apartment with a sigh.

She took pride in the decor of her apartment; it may not have been high end furniture, but she had a part in the DIY projects she found online and made each piece in her apartment her own. She lay her key in the bowl that sat on an end table by the door and hopped to the sofa.

Pulling down her bloodstained tights she surveyed the damage. Her left knee was a little worse for wear than the right, but still not as bad as it could have been if not for Mr. Voight. Her eyebrows raised as she remembered the small card in her pocket he bestowed her with. She pulled it out and gave it a glance before sitting it on armrest.

Sergeant Henry Voight
Chicago Police Department - District 21
4596 Chicago, Illinois 60629

She shook her head at her luck and softly said, "Thank you, Sergeant Voight."

'You'll need to get some ice on that,' his gruff voice flooded her memory.

"Right."

She placed a handful of ice in a plastic baggy and wrapped it in a dish towel, holding it gingerly against one knee at a time, then resting it on her cheek in five minute intervals. Slowly the pain deteriorated and was replaced by a prickling numbness. She shivered and pulled the afghan her mother had crocheted from the back of the couch and wrapped it around her legs.

Nights like this were the hardest, when she desperately needed a mother's love or father's compassion. Her sister's attempts to be both mother and father weighed her down, morphed her into an adult faster than need be. After a short, horrible marriage, Lauren decided it was time for her to leave- make her own path.

Ella still called every night to check up on her baby sister, bless her.

She sighed and reach for the remote, hoping to rest from those thoughts in particular and the day's events. She flipped through the channels, searching for something- anything- to watch, and finally settled on a nineties rerun of Wheel of Fortune.

Her eyes began to droop and only got heavier with time, as if a great weight had been placed on her lashes. She lay her head on a pillow and obliged as sleep took her away.



Call from Mitchell, Ella.

The phone roused Lauren from her sleep. She rolled over halfway, stretching across the sofa to grasp her phone. She pressed it on, immediately greeted with her sister's honeyed voice.

"Laurie, you up?"

She yawned loudly and stretched before answering. "Yes. What time is it?" Instantly, she cringed at the lisp she was left with at the end of each 's'.

"Twelve. You better be glad it's Saturday, kid. You'd already be late for work."

Lauren smiled and nodded, "Thank God. I don't think I could handle all those people today."

"What's up with the lisp?" Ella asked quietly. "Did you pierce your tongue? Please tell me you didn't. Lauren, those are so nasty!"

She rolled her eyes, "No, Ella. I just.." she thought for a moment, "I bit my tongue yesterday."

"...you bit your tongue?"

"Yes."

Ella was quiet for a moment before she began to laugh, "You're such a dork."

She almost sighed with relief, but held it in and gave a small chuckle. "I know. But listen, I need to go bath and get ready or I'll never do anything today. So I'll call you later?"

"Of course."

"I love you," she said softly, "tell the kids I love 'em."

"Love you too, Laurie."

She snapped her phone shut and tried to bite back the guilt that quickly rose in her chest. She hated lying to her sister, but it was best for both of them. She groaned and leaned into the soft cushions of her couch, grinding the heels of her palms against her eyes.

Time to look for a new job.



She nursed the steaming cup of coffee in her hands as her eyes scanned the newspaper in front of her.

Looking for a responsible adult to sit with an elderly woman- must be willing to take care of personal needs.

'No thank you,' Lauren thought before shuddering at the thought of an old, wrinkly woman sitting in a bathtub with a shower cap on.

As she read further down the paper, one listing caught her attention.

Receptionist at District 21 in Chicago. Post high school education preferred.

"Hm," she searched her wallet for the card to confirm the question in her mind.

4596 Chicago, Illinois 60629

She hastily dialed the number from the ad, listening to five rings before a woman's voice answered.

"Chicago Police Department, Sergeant Platt speaking."

Her heart began to pound, "Hello, I was calling about the receptionist position. Is it still available?"

"Yes it is. You'll have to stop by and apply for it in person."

"Okay," she replied. "I'll be there shortly."

With that, the line died. Lauren furrowed her brow, mostly in confusion as she closed her phone slowly. She finished her meal and polished off the coffee she had left before leaving the small diner to hail a cab. The ride to the station wasn't very long, but to Lauren it felt like a lifetime.

She paid the driver and stepped out onto the sidewalk. A young woman, a police officer, stood on the front steps watching the traffic in front of the station. Lauren gave her a small smile before she began to talk. "Hi, who would I have to talk to for an application?"

"Oh, come on I'll take you." She offered, leading the way up a set of stairs and to a desk. An older woman with a straight ponytail watched with a smile.

"Detective Lindsay, beautiful day isn't it?"

"Yeah." She answered simply. "This lady is here for an application, I figured you could help her out."

"Of course," she turned to Lauren and the smile faded from her face almost instantly. "Come on."

When her sister called that night Lauren told her of the good news. Ella congratulated her, and began to gossip about her in-laws. Her husband, Joe, had invited them for a week for a vacation with their grandchildren.

"Speaking of in-laws, I saw William-" Lauren's groan cut her sentence in half.

"That psycho hasn't called me in a week, I figured something was up."

"He really is crazy. He wouldn't leave me alone until Joe came up and told him to leave."

"What did he want?"

Ella hesitated, then quietly said, "You."

"What do you mean me?"

"He said he was coming to Chicago when he rounded up enough money. Said he was going to pay you a visit."

Lauren's breathing hitched, "How'd he know I came to Chicago?"

"Laurie, listen to me," Ella's voice became authoritative, "you need to be careful. I know you can't watch your back all the time, but please for the love of God, just be safe."

"I will."

"The twins are crying, sweetie. I'm gonna have to go see what's wrong. I love you."

"You too."



Sleep eluded Lauren that night. Each time she closed her eyes she saw her ex-husband coming at her with a knife, ax, or gun, and each time in her dream she had died. She tossed and turned in her small bed, until finally she gave up on sleep and raided her fridge for ice cream.

After she finished the bowl, she covered herself in the afghan, watching the television until she fell asleep.