"It's definitely not death."

"You do not fear death. You think this makes you strong. It makes you weak."

"Why?"

"How can you move faster than possible, fight longer than possible without the most powerful impulse of the spirit: the fear of death."

"I do fear death. I fear dying in here, while my city burns, and there's no one there to save it."

"Then make the climb."

"How?"

"As the child did. Without the rope. Then fear will find you again."

The door opened then closed and locked quietly. The bedding fluffed, and it sent shots of cold air against my back in the dark. She rubbed my shoulder. She smelled like food. I felt her hand run down my side. I heard each shoe fall to the floor casually. Her breath against my ear made me grow. I turned over and we kissed. She pulled her shirt up so our stomachs touched. I pulled her shirt off. As our tongues worked against each other her pants came down, then the rest. It was dark and hot under there.

She was on top. It was machinery moving exactly. It had never been that good. Then this banging hit from the other side of the door, a man’s fist. We stopped.

“I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, BITCH! OPEN UP! OPEN UP THE DOOR! NOW!”

I saw her shadow look at the door.

“Shit.”

“Who is it?”

She whispered, “Tommy. Shit, shit, shit.”

“OPEN THE GODDAMN DOOR OR I’LL FUCKING BREAK IT IN!”

She put her head on my chest and sighed.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“Not anymore. He’s a little psychotic.”

He was ramming the door. It started to crack. I sat up.

“Fast. Under the bed!”

She was under the bed. I threw her clothes and purse under there with her and jammed one of the blankets in front of them. I turned the light on and yelled.

“WHO THE FUCK IS IT?”

“JUST OPEN THE DOOR, ASSHOLE!”

I yelled back.

“ALRIGHT! CALM DOWN FIRST! I HAVE A GUN!”

“BULLSHIT!”

I latched the chain quietly.

“WHO ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?”

“I KNOW SHE’S IN THERE, MAN!”

I told him I was alone.

“BULLSHIT! OPEN THE DOOR!”

He rammed again. It was one hit away from a total collapse. I opened the door and looked out over the chain. There he was. A big motherfucker with a weak chin. I told him I was alone. His crazy eyes peered in, then around the room. He was convinced. He wanted in that door. Where were the police? I told him I had to get dressed. Then I caught it, the pizza box on the table. Under the bed in one motion. She swore quietly and whispered something about her eye. I threw on my pants and unlatched the chain. He plowed the door into me, knocking me against the wall. He was huge and shirtless. He looked around, ran to the bathroom then ran out. He was at the next door then the next. I could hear sirens. Before I could close the door he was back in the room. He lit a smoke and pulled a can of beer from his pocket.

“Mind if I lay low in here, man? You seem cool.”

“I really need to get up early.”

He sat on the bed. We heard the cops roll by. They stopped and walked around, knocked on a few doors, knocked on mine. I brushed them off through the chain. He was in the bathroom. They went to the office then they left, slowly. The spotlight was everywhere. I watched it bounce off my journal and hit the television. It shook around the walls then stopped. He came out and sat on the bed next to me.

“Fuck, dude. I’m sorry. She was on foot. I followed her. Could have sworn this was the room.” He described her to me.

“Haven’t seen her.”

He started crying.

“I really loved her, dude. I guess I wasn’t good enough.”

“No one ever is, man.” I almost called him Tom.

He drank down the rest of his beer. He crushed the can and held it.

He sat down and patted me on the back.

“You’re a good guy.” he got up and flushed his cigarette down the toilet. He came back in.

“I really loved her, dude.”

He put his head in his hands and started bawling again.

“I mean, she meant the world to me, dude. What the fuck am I going to do now?... DUDE!”

I didn’t know what to say. So much for my good luck returning.

“I woulda done anything for her, dude. I woulda killed for her and her kid.” he sobbed horribly, “I woulda married her!”

She stayed cool under there, didn’t make a move. And she was under there, naked. But I sat next to him for the better part of an hour. It was war.

He was finally on the other side of the door. I imagined him walking home, his head turned to the street, his hands in his pockets. He would be awake until he heard her voice again. I tried not to think of him. If it wouldn’t have been me on the bed it would have been somebody. It was only a matter of time for both of them.

She was smoking a cigarette next to me.

“I hope he’s okay,” she said, like she’d really put some thought into it. I didn’t respond. She said she had to get going, that her son was a real handful and her mother worked mornings. She told me she lived in the neighborhood across the street. I watched her fish for her clothes. She was dressed, and she looked younger than what she had. She lit another smoke and laid a kiss across my cheek. I watched the door close and stretched out. Then I heard the screaming. I heard him yelling at her, calling her a cunt. I heard him tell her that he was coming back for me. From the corner of the curtain I watched them out there. I wasn’t afraid to fight him but I knew he would take me because he was right. I started getting ready for it. She took off running, and he looked to the room and stalled. He was on her heels in no time. Then they were gone. I coasted my bike out and opened the van, threw it in with the rest of my things and got the hell out of there. I found a rest stop about 45 miles up the freeway, pulled over and slept.

The Sun found a slit in the curtains and sent two yellow arrows directly into my forehead. I opened my eyes. My chest was heavy. I was sweating. I was lying in an oven. I unlatched the backdoors and crawled out. Out there it was hot. The men were walking shirtless next to their wives and kids. It was refreshing to me, almost cold. My skin rose then fell back across my bones. My eyes were burning with sweat. I looked around the desert.

I drove into Flagstaff and ordered a soda. I thought about her. I thought about her selfishness. That big flank of meat could have killed me, and he would have. All she saw was new skin, vanity. I wondered why I hadn’t told the cops that he was in the bathroom. I decided cops were worse than women.

The mountains of Flagstaff were clean and cool. I parked at an overlook and waited off my fever. On the couch in back I fell asleep with the windows opened. I woke up to see the sunset. It was brighter than usual, and colder, because it was a sunrise. I’d slept for nearly a day. I drove back to the same place and read the map. Albuquerque looked decent. A young and vicious college girl came into the diner and sat in a booth across from mine. She smiled. I got up and left.

Because I actually don't deserve to win this writing Challenge. I'm definitely not the most talented writer on Prose and, most likely, that writer will enter this Challenge and ultimately get more likes than this submission will, for that reason. But that contradicts the very spirit of creative competition, so I will continue crafting this unchaotic collection of characters. That's why I decided to respond to this Challenge. And, if somehow it ends up getting the most likes, out of all submissions, then that's why I will deserve to win this writing Challenge. Hypothetically, of course.