Chapter 1 - Breaking and Entering
"I am really starting to hate Johnny’s guts right now," I growled bitterly under my breath. "It’s thanks to his ass that I have to do this dare in the first place."
Briana could have shut me up when she had the chance. But no, she would rather watch me stick my whole foot in my mouth. Some best friend she is. And on top of that, she knows that I would rather be anywhere else then in this alley, especially on a Saturday night.
I grunt in a very unlady-like fashion and shivered, as the chilly Santa Ana winds ruffled my black jeans. It was unusual weather for this time of year, damn global warming.
I pulled my, matching black, sweatshirt closer to me and peered down into my bag. Everything seemed to be in order.
Lock picking kit, check.
Mini-Flashlight, check.
Poster, check.
Guts...oops, I must have left them in my other bag. God damn it
“Well,” I thought as I tightened the strap on my black messenger bag. “Here we go”
Then with the speed and grace of a ninja, I took off down the wide cement road of alleyway. I moved like a shadow and to the untrained eye I would have looked like just that, a shadow in the moonlight. Despite my auburn hair, which had escaped the inside of my black beanie, and was now fluttering wildly behind me. But even with the seemingly obvious flaws in my ‘disguise’ I got to the center of the alleyway unnoticed.
The only light here was that of the moon hanging overhead. But at the time, the silver disk was hidden behind a cloud, making it virtually impossible to see anything in the dim light.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, quickly flipping it open. The artificial light reflected off the brick walls; not only helping me see, but also making the space of the alleyway more eerie than before. The blackened bricks were now painted an ominous gray color in the light. The damp dirt that coating the mortar was a bluish silver, and dripped slowly down the wall. Like blood sliding down stone.
This thought made my heart hammer quickly against my chest, and it took every ounce of willpower for me not to forget the dare and run back to my car. But I held my ground and continued on. The light from my phone dance across the concrete and brick, as I walked further into the dark.
Every alley in Downtown L.A this one had all the ‘amenities’ this one was no exception. Puke green dumpsters, filled to the brim with trash, lined the brick walls. Old moldy boxes that had more holes in them then a block of cheese. And rats. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, as the sounds of their scampering echoed through the alleyway. I was silently praying that this would be over soon, when I saw it.
Blending in almost perfectly with the black wall, and partially hidden by a pile of trash bags, was a dark silver door. It was completely blank, minus a couple of small stickers, and two lines of red text a few inches below a small glass peephole. Two lines that I was actually glad to see.
“The Studio,” it read “Art Gallery and Cafe”
My heart was beating faster than a jackhammer as I walked up and placed my hand against the cool metal. This was it. This was the place.
I slapped my phone closed and shoved it into my bag. At the same time I pulled out my mini-flashlight and lock picking kit. I turned on my flashlight and bit down on the end, shinning the light onto the ground. Then I opened the box holding my tools, this alone took a few minutes, on account of my hands shaking so badly.
It only took me a minute or two to pick out the right tools for the job, I then shoved the box back into my bag and went to work.
There were two locks on the door. The first was a simple knob lock, one that you could get from any home improvement store. Fairly simple to unlock, if you knew how. But it was the second lock that caught my eye. It was a large brass dead bolt style lock, like the ones they use on security doors in prison. I knew that this one was gonna be harder to unlock, so I started on it first.
It took longer than I thought it was going to but finally, after three long minutes, the bolt lock slid back into the door with a low click.
I couldn’t help but grin at my success. But I was far from finished, so I went to work on the second lock. I was only beginning to stick the small screwdriver into the keyhole, when another sound echoed through the alleyway. A sound that my my heart skip a beat.
The sound of footsteps.
And with every second they seemed to be getting closer and closer to me.
I instantly panicked, dropping both the lock picking kit and the tools I was holding. So much for staying cool under pressure.
The footsteps got louder. Oh crap.
Frantically scooped up the tools, I practically stabbed the keyhole with the two screwdrivers. My heart was hammering away at my chest like a jackhammer against concrete, as I jerked the tools sharply to the left. Half hoping that this new method would (in someway) help the process go a little faster.
Sadly it didn’t.
“Come on. Come on. Come on,” I thought as the sounds of the footsteps approached the pile of trash bags. “Just open, please.”
As if the door had heard me, the tools slipped further into the keyhole and the lock slid back with a click. I silently thanked every god in the sky, pulling the two screwdrivers out of the thin slot, and shoving them in my sweatshirt pocket with my flashlight. I twisted the knob sharply to the left and all but rammed my shoulder into the metal door.
I tuned out the stinging pain in my left side, as I threw myself into the dark room, shut the door quickly behind me, and pressed my ear to the metal door. The footsteps moved closer and closer and closer. Then (to my surprise) they kept going, passing the the door and continuing on.
I let out a well deserved sigh and slid down to the cold concrete floor. I had made it inside. Not too bad for a 19 year old college student.
