What world was I in?

[anakai]

It was odd. Black corners and shadowed doorways haunted her every step. Some of the lights on the lower level flickered on and off as if uncertain. But the third level was completely dark. Anakai leaned over the stair rails and looked up to her floor. The lights flickered, but not as bad.

"What the hell happend here?" came her doubtful yet unquivering question to the dark. A shiver crept its way down her spine as she stepped away from the stair and down the hall a ways. Holes punctered the ceiling in front of the elevator. And she knew for a damn fact that it wasn't termites. Someone had entered the building and went gun happy. Another shiver.

Voices lightly filled the hallway, coming from one of the apartments. And she knew well enough who lived on this floor. Last thing she wanted was for him to be suspecting her of anything. Of course, that idea hit her wrong. She was only an 18 year old high school sudent. What the hell could she do? And yes, she knew who Eric Latner was. She'd seen him in passing. And during rare brave moments, smiled politely and muttered a almost incoherent, *hey*, then was on her way again.

If things went her way, she'd be working for him within the next year. But then, when did anything go her way outside of writing? Anakai blinked slowly and turned to head back to the stairwell. Best leave the matter to the people who know what the hell they're doing. As she walked up the stairs to the 4th floor, she listened to the electric sputter of power trying to reconnect itself to stop the flicker of lights. It was an almost eeire sound. With a burst of fear-enduced energy, she high-tailed it to her apartment door, opened it, and quickly slipped in and shut the door. Her leg muscles tightened with having been forced to move in a speed at which they weren't prepared for. She limply turned while still leaning on the door, and pulled the chain lock to.

Brave her arse. Every writer has an imagination. And every imagination has its flaws. Hers just happen to be an overly reactive one. Every fear she has ever had, doubled in capacity when her imagination took ahold of it. It worked wonders for her stories. But in regular day life, it'd scare her shite-less.

Anakai slumped down at her desk, looking at all the papers and pencils scattered about it. Cleaning would have to be done, but not now. For now, she'd sleep. It'd been one heck of an interesting day.

And she had a feeling it'd wouldn't end with bullet holes in the third floor ceiling.

[anakai]

A snail had managed to move a few feet before she even managed to move herself from her current position of being lazy on her desk chair. It was a rather slow process. Almost as if she were attempting to move underwater. Or more like, swimming in molasses. Exhaustion held a firm grip on every muscle that took part in moving her from the chair to her bedroom. All the four steps across the hall. The young writer pulled the clip that kept her chocolate colored hair upand let it fall upon her back and shoulders, perfectly framing her face. After dropping the clip on a chair near her door, she let her hands move to start unbuttoning her shirt.

The windows let small streams of light in at random points. Darkness helped ease the headaches that accompanied her to bed after staying up all night writing and brainstorming. Her eyes had become accustomed to this little amount of light and she showed it by the way she moved effortlessly through her room, removing articles of clothing as she went. Anakai folded her shirt and skirt, laying them neatly in her closet as she kicked off her shoes and pulled her opaque stockings from clinging to her legs. It was a pleasure to come home and change into her comfies. Comfies was her word for sweatpants and a hoody, which she was currently digging through her vast amount of clothes to find.

Anakai was a girl all her own. She couldn't be labeled. She couldn't be tagged. She didn't even really fit into one group of kids. The writer was a female on her own. A female with a talent that she could put to use as soon as she finished perfecting it. Then maybe, just maybe, she could work for the DPS. Become one of Latner's little helpers. 'Twas a dream of hers. Anakai let her mind wander as she gingerly pulled out a pair of worn black sweatpants and an equally worn hoody. Both were quickly applied as breezes rushing through her window brought goosebumps to her flesh and natural body reactions to cold from other parts of her person.

The warmth of the comfies was most refreshing. Anakai hugged her arms as she walked to her window and pulled the string so that the window closed completely, leaving no cracks for light to come through. Serene darkness swarmed her frame, leaving nothing but a light silhouette in pitch black nothingness. Anakai crawled onto her bed and laid her body down gently. It would be awhile before she fell asleep, seeing as her mind was full of thoughts and ideas but just laying down was ecstasy in and of itself.

[anakai]

Some hours later, the young aspiring writer turned over from her slumber and lay awake. The grogginess of just having woken up lay upon her like a lead mist, threatening to close her eyes and put her back into a deep sleep. Hesitantly she resisted the impulse to return to her safe haven and remain there for the remainder of the night. Her stomach had a thing or two to do with that decision. Its constant rumbling made laying down uncomfortable and sleep impossible.

Anakai sat up, albeit slowly. Shadows danced around her room, playing innocent games of tag with her consciousness and perception of reality. Her hand moved to flip on her bed-side lamp. Faded light flooded over one side of the room while only barely lighting the other. Her shadow friends darted in every direction to hide in their specific places that light condemned them to.

It was quiet, thankfully, and the trip to the kitchen was short but not without its faults. Apparently, a wall had grown while she was asleep and made a point of getting in her way. A very 'full face slam' sort of getting in her way. Alas, it was a wall that had been there, she just would rather accuse it than her own inability to walk when just woken up.
The cold tile floor felt smooth against her feet and she stood there for a moment enjoying it. Well, she also was thinking about what she was in the mood for and was afraid to move for fear of completely falling over this time.

So she stood there. Pondering over the edible-ness of yesterday's pizza or the spaghetti from the day before. Neither at the moment seemed appetizing. Anakai wasn't a bad cook. She just didn't enjoy doing it. Occasionally it wasn't a problem. But she much preferred ordering from the Italian restaurant down the street. Cheap and much better quality. With mild interest, she headed for the fridge and pulled out both the pizza and the spaghetti.

Tonight was going to be a variety.