STILL CASSANDRA CLARE'S CHARACTERS. STILL SAD ABOUT THAT FACT.
The ride to my new home was a long one. The man drove in the front seat and the Dark Sisters sat on either side of me in the back. They smelled as badly as they looked. Nobody talked. I tried to look out the windows to take in London, but all I saw was traffic. What a great city, I thought to myself and rolled my eyes. I leaned back into my chair and tried to get comfortable, but my attempts were pointless, as there seemed to be no possible way in the tight fit. I silently groaned and sat still. I couldn't read. One reason was that I got horrible motion sickness. Another was because my shoulder bag was in the trunk.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, we pulled into a garage and the car parked. The driver hopped out and opened the door for Mrs. Dark. I was forced to grab his hand again. We were in a large parking garage with a few cars. The cars all appeared to be in great need of a paint job, or to be put down. The walls of the garage were stained grey with what looked like mold and water. The ground had a three centimeters thick sheen of water covering it, like it had been flooded. The gate to the garage was rusted and falling apart and there was a water damaged wood door leading to the rest of the building. Nate had great taste in homes. I groaned again for the eighth time that day. Suddenly the wooden door creaked open and a girl stepped out. She was older than me, I thought, at least. I couldn't tell if she was fourteen or forty. She seemed timeless. She had the same bulging features as the driver. I assumed they were related. She stepped towards the dark sisters.
Mrs. Dark looked away from the girl, as if she would be infected with a deadly disease. Like she was below her. "Theresa, this is Miranda, the housekeeper and maid. She will show you to your apartment. Follow her. He," Mrs. Dark jabbed her thumb in the driver's direction," will take your trunks to your apartment." With that, she and her sister walked away from me and into the building.
Miranda turned on her heel and walked towards the door, not looking back to make sure I was following. I quickly scooped up my bag and ran after her. We went down a musty hallway and up a small flight of steps to another door. She opened it and continued on to a place that seemed to be a lobby. There were holes in the couches and stains on the carpet. The wallpaper was a depressing blue that had seen better days. There was a booth where I guessed a manager was supposed to sit, but it was vacated. One chair was turned over and the two elevators were both crossed off with caution tape. I couldn't believe people lived there. It seemed to be an abandoned hotel. I looked after Miranda and saw she was holding a door open for me. It was to the stairwell. We walked up three flights and then went through another door and down a hall, where Miranda stopped in front of a door so suddenly, I almost crashed into her. She unlocked the door with a key and opened it, ushering me in.
"This is your apartment. I hope you find it satisfying. If not, take it up with your brother. He should be home by nightfall. That is what I was told by him." Miranda spun away and closed the door. I gripped my bag and looked around. The apartment was a small improvement to what the lobby had been. I was in a small hallway. To my direct left was a door and inside was a bathroom with dirty tiles and a bathtub/shower, toilet, and sink, all in about 12 square feet. On the right side of the hallway, there was an archway that led into a kitchen. The white walls were grimy and peeling. The appliances looked like they were from the 1950s. I walked to the fridge to see if it was even on or functioning; it surprisingly was, along with only one of the burners on the stove and the oven. I also noticed that there were only various forms of alcohol in the fridge. The cabinets were filled with chips and junk food. I walked fully down the hall into a living room. It was floored with the same beige carpet as the rest of the apartment. There was a matching couch and armchair that were in okay condition. There was a coffee table and then a television. A flat screen. The only nice thing in the place. It was nice to know that Nate had his priorities straight. There were windows in the living room with a view of the city, unlike the other windows that only had a view of the rest of the apartment complex. Except, I could only see miles and miles of streets and asphalt and buildings. It's not very different from New York, I thought. If it wasn't for my sense of nothingness, I would've felt right at home.
There were two doors on either side of the living room. I peeked into one and saw men's clothes, alcohol bottles, and trash everywhere. I immediately concluded that it was Nate's and went to the other room. The second room was painted the same old white with the same dirty carpet. The bed was a twin and had an old floral comforter on it that looked like the ones in cheap motel rooms. There was a pillow on the bed and one overhead light. There was a large art-deco armoire, a closet, and a set of drawers. There was also a large bookshelf and a window behind the bed. The room appeared nicer than the others, with more intact furniture. I felt a small pang of happiness in my abdomen, rising up my body, when I thought of Nate doing all of this for me. There was suddenly a knock on the door. I dropped my bag abruptly, and ran for the door, hoping it was Nate.
I hadn't seen him in a year and hadn't talked to him or anyone in two weeks. I didn't get cell service in the middle of the ocean. I wanted to give him my love and also the letters I wrote for him when I was on the boat. It was a way of keeping track of the days and also keeping myself sane.
As I swung open the door, I was let down. It was just the driver man with my trunks. Thinking of the books inside of the trunks made me happier. Without a sound the man brushed past me and carried in the trunks and laid them in my room. A small part of me questioned how he knew where my room was, but he left and slammed the door before I could ask.
After three hours of unpacking, Nate still wasn't back, and I was thoroughly worn out. I got plenty of sleep on the ship, but I supposed boat-lag was catching up with me. I looked at the bed, but decided that I didn't trust it's cleanliness. I looked in the full length mirror that hung on the back of my door. I was taller than an average girl, and looked paler and skinnier than I had a few months ago. My face was sunken. My eyes were more grey than blue. My hair was a mess and I was moist with sweat. I stripped off my sweaty old clothes and threw on some jeans and a sweater. I stuffed the comforter, sheets, pillow covers, and my clothes into a large trash bag I found in the kitchen cupboards. I looked around the apartment and decided to put Nate's blankets and dirty clothes in the bag to launder as well. He was letting me live with him, cleaning up a little was the least I could do. I was also hungry, and seeing that I feeling that if I ate greasy food, I would throw up, I needed to go to the supermarket too. I took out my wallet and the trash bag and went to look for the Dark Sisters or Miranda or someone to tell me where I should go.
PLEASE DON'T BE BORED, THIS WILL PROBABLY BE THE LAST BORING CHAPTER SO, YOU KNOW, DON'T ABANDON ME. THANKS.
NEXT CHAPTER IS FROM WILL'S PERSPECTIVE TO SHAKE THINGS UP AND STUFF AND YOU'LL BE LIKE WHATTTT AND I'LL BE LIKE WHATTTTT AND WE'LL ALL BE LIKE WHATTTTT? YEAH SO YEAH.