The Little Black Book

Happiness or Havoc?

As I walked out of work, everything seemed the same. Nothing special; every day was the same after all. I’d been living this life on repeat for years. I took a deep breath of the deeply polluted air and made my way up the alley.

I had always wondered what it would be like for at least one of these days to be different. However, as I looked up at the sky before hopping off the curb, I realized that life was just going to be like this forever; I would just have to accept that.

I finally reached my small, gray apartment, and struggled to get my key in the door; just like I struggled every day. As I swung open the door and began to step inside, something caused me to stumble. I hit the floor.

To my bewilderment, there was something different today. After all, my daily routine had never included falling on my apartment floor before. When I finally got the will to pick myself up, I noticed something strange had been placed in front my front door; but of course I didn't see it, why would I? When you’re used to the same routine, same greasy job, same muggy walk, same loneliness every time you go anywhere, you eventually stop noticing things.

It appeared to be a rather large cardboard box. As I examined it, thinking it must be a bomb, I realized it was lacking any postage, let alone a mere fingerprint. I shut my door, regained my composure and grabbed my pocket knife.

After skeptically cutting open the seal, I mustered up the strength to peer inside. I was not accustomed to surprises. In the bottom of the large box, was what appeared to be a small leather bound notebook. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding in; thankful that the mysterious box did not blow me to smithereens. I reached inside and pulled it out into the dim light. It was black. A deep unsettling black that made me want to throw it out the window. I slowly traced the leather sides of the book before releasing its worn leather strap that bound it shut. It was rather thick for being such a small notebook, yet my fear was gone and my intrigue drove me to open the cover.

The front page had the letters “B-E” scrawled at the very top of the page. I cautiously flipped to the next page to find “CAREFUL” written in a large font in the center of the page. I slammed the book shut, dropping it right back into the cardboard box where it came from.

I paced back and forth, my hands shaking violently. Had I not been through enough? After all this time, were they after me again? I had once lived for the thrill of new and exciting adventures, until the incident. After moving across the country, changing my name, and losing contact with everyone from my past life… everything became so stagnant. Sure, I hated every second of it, but at least I wasn’t so afraid.

I decided that the best plan of action was to put the box outside in the small tin garbage can residing next to my front door. I quickly locked the deadbolt and headed across my studio apartment to splash some ice cold water on my face. I could barely move. I could barely breathe. This was all too strange. After standing in the same position, my head hanging over the sink for an eternity, I decided to try and forget. I slipped out of my waitress uniform and sunk into my lumpy bed. After pulling the sheet over my head, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

I was awakened by the sound of a faint knocking at my door. Naturally I got out of bed, unlocked the deadbolt, and opened the door. Before I knew it there were so many arms around me, and a hand covering my mouth. I couldn’t see their faces but I already knew exactly who it was. I tried to scream and wrench myself from their grip but they were far too strong and I soon exhausted myself from thrashing in their grip. I closed my eyes and went limp. It was no use. After all this time, they’d found me.

I shot up out of bed and looked around my apartment. No one was there. Only the sweat stained sheets and my own cry of terror was to be seen or heard. I sighed with such heavy relief and raced to the sink for a glass of water. Now that I realized it was only a dream, I made my way to the front door. I carefully unlocked it, and peered outside. Not a single soul could be seen in the moonlight. I cautiously opened the lid to my garbage can and leaned inside to grab the cardboard box. I shut the lid and hurried back into my apartment and slammed the door shut. I grabbed a match and lit a small candle. Once I’d settled myself on the floor, I reached for the ominous black book.

I skipped past the first two pages, not wanting to scare myself further, but there was nothing. I started flipping through the rest of the book hoping for more peaceful words, when half of the pages seemed to fall out onto my cold floor. Directing the candlelight onto the wooden slats below me, I saw that those were no pages at all. It was money.

I sat there in disbelief. There was a lot of money. More cash than I’d ever seen laying out before me. I couldn’t believe that after running in fear, and living in squalor that maybe I’d been saved. Enough money was there to last me forever. I began to count the bills over and over until I came to the conclusion that there before me was indeed $20,000. Without trying, thoughts of finally being able to pay for hot water and air conditioning flooded my brain. I wasn’t making a lot of money waitressing at the only restaurant that would hire me, so this seemed like incredible luck.

I thumbed through the pages of the book time and again, looking for some other message. But there was no more than those two words: “BE CAREFUL.”

I stood up and paced the floor, subsequently walking on $20,000 as I did. I began to think back to my old life. Money had never been a factor with my family. I always had my fathers credit card, or my mother by my side to charge things for me. I lived extravagantly to say the least, and I never had to work for a penny of it. As much as I repeatedly tried to block it out, I couldn’t help myself from thinking about how it all went wrong.

I never knew my father to be a filthy business man. In my hometown, he was revered… or so I had been taught to believe. All was well until my seventeenth birthday. My parents always threw such extravagant events, and my special day was no exception. My father spared no expense, and gave me everything I could have ever dreamed of. As the night drew near, I donned my spotless white gown, and had my hair and makeup done. By the time the designers left me to myself, it was almost 9pm. I was looking over myself in the mirror when I heard a great commotion happening outside my large glass windows. I hurried over, opened the glass, and before I knew what was happening there were men in black yanking me out of my window... away from my perfect room.

I tried to scream but there were hands covering my mouth. They scraped my body down the ladder they had used to reach me. How foolish I was to run straight into danger, when my father had always taught me to stay away from things out of the ordinary.

I was soon dragged toward the back of our fabulous gardens, and my dress became more and more soiled. Through the muffling of the bodies around me I heard a gunshot, and suddenly there was blood sprayed all over my once pure white gown. I screamed as a body hit me on its descent to the ground.

Behind the gun I saw my father from halfway across the garden with my mother running up behind him. The other men quickly dropped me and ran straight for him, as he yelled for my mother to leave. I tried to crawl backwards, but was paralyzed with fear. I witnessed the men beat my father to a pulp. I tried to look away but I couldn’t. Next they bledgened my mother. They showed her no mercy.

I closed my eyes and felt my soul leave my body. There was no point anymore; I’d barely made it to seventeen and I figured I was their next victim. However they dragged me on. I was taken far away from my once perfect life and locked in a place cold and wet, wearing my blood and dirt stained gown.

I shook myself from my memory with another splash of cold water. I couldn't keep reliving my past. It was four years ago. I had made a new life for myself here. I finally started sleeping soundly again; until discovering this horrid black book filled with money.

There was no way this book came here by accident. This was sent by them. Those dangerous men my father was involved with. In my time held captive by those evil men, I came to learn that they were my father’s old partners; the same men I had once referred to as “uncle.” I began to understand that I was simply collateral. I was to be held hostage for everything they wanted from my father. He was never supposed to catch them taking me. It makes sense how they knew so perfectly how to kidnap me, and which guards would be away from the gardens at that hour. In my time with them, they kept me locked in a room so dark and damp. They never showed me their faces but I heard almost every word they said through the cracks in the wall.

They used me for their own selfish and disgusting needs. At only seventeen I was beaten and raped by hundreds of masked men over the 6 months I was there. I never got a change of clothes. I don’t know how I deserved that, I was in no way affiliated with my fathers affairs. But they knew how to make a profit from me nevertheless.

I finally communicated through the walls with one of the guards who was willing to help me, though I’m sure he was murdered by them for it. I should have stayed there and not have cost him his life. I tell myself everyday I am not responsible for the lives lost, but I never fully shake the feeling.

I picked up the scattered money from the floor, stuffed it into my bag and started grabbing some belongings I’d bought out of necessity. I knew it was time to leave again, because clearly I hadn’t fully escaped them.

I put on some dark clothes, and slipped out of my back window, for once being grateful I could only afford an apartment on the first floor. As I crept down the back alley of the building, I kept my eyes peeled for any strange movements. Soon I was to the busy streets, and on my way to the train station; glancing back every couple of steps to make sure I wasn’t being followed.

When I arrived at the station, I bought a ticket that would take me further away from both of my past lives. I had figured I was totally safe. I thought I’d gone far enough, but clearly I hadn’t. I shook the regret out of my head and waited for my train to arrive.

I made my way through the rows of seats, and found a safe little corner away from the few passengers on board the Amtrak. I listened to the voices I could hear, sighing in relief when none of them sounded familiar. After fighting my heavy eyelids for a while, I gave in to my slumber.

When I opened my eyes I found that I’d arrived. Thankfully I’d been able to buy the ticket with cash, leaving no traces behind. I made my way out of the Amtrak. I gazed around me at the cold morning air. From California to New York to Maine, I was as far as I could get away from my past without leaving the country. For now, this was good enough.

I made my way to the nearest newspaper stand and looked for a place to stay. I found some motels and used a payphone. Shortly after I headed towards the nearest diner to eat some good food, and glean a little energy from a strong cup of coffee.

I began to walk through the streets after a short breakfast, finding myself lacking an appetite. I saw many people shivering on the sides of the street, unable to afford shelter, much less buy something warm to wear. In spite of my newfound fortune, I knew what I needed to do. I approached a few of the homeless ladies that were first in line, and gathered up $2,000 for them each. I continued down the line of people, passing out the money that had only brought evil upon my family. I wished to only continue my life with hard work and no greed. I felt a sense of relief with each handful of cash I was able to pass on. The look of shock and pure joy on these strangers’ faces was worth more than all the wealth in the world. I still had so much money left, and decided to find directions to the first motel I found to be ready directly after my earlier calls.

The place was a one bedroom that was so much larger and more beautiful than my previous shack of a home. I was amazed at the way things were falling into place for me. In the last four years, not a single thing had come to me easily. I had worked strenuous hours just to afford such a small and mundane life. But here I was, in a new place, with a room to stay in, and what seemed like a whole new world to explore.

I decided to lay down on the mattress and sleep until I was well rested enough to go out and look for a new job. All the memories of my past and the night before seemed to disappear with my slumber, and I was able to find a glimmer of peace. I was able to breathe again, if not only momentarily. I dreamt of making more faces glow, like those people in the streets earlier. I decided then and there, that not only would I accept the past for what it was, but that I wouldn’t let my life become dull and solely about survival again. I would work hard. I would help others who seemingly had no escape from all their troubles, or the curveballs life had thrown at them. It’s hard not to judge from appearances, but I never really knew what other’s lives were really like. I knew that I probably would never escape my past, but I could try to look forward. When I woke up, I took my usual cold shower, dressed as best as I could, and headed out the door, hoping to find a new job and a bright future.