022 POV - Arrive at apartment 1382

I park in my usual spot outside my apartment. Admittedly, I don't live on a nice street. There's a lot of graffiti and two abandoned cars that have smashed windows and very few parts left that are worth appropriating. Despite street cleaners coming through here every Monday morning there's always trash blowing about. In my block alone there are two entire six story buildings that are derelict and boarded up. One of which I know is used by a lot of the local homeless for shelter. I'm not excited to live here, but it's close to work and the rent is dirt cheap, which on my salary is a huge help.

As I turn off the engine the man surveys the surroundings. 'Nice neighbourhood.' He says snidely. I don't bite. I couldn't care less what this man thinks. He's a killer. I'm not. We're not even the same species as far as I'm concerned. 

'Which one's yours?' He asks.

'The brown-brick with the red front door, right there.' I point at what was once a red door when it was first painted. Now it's a tapestry of red, with countless patches where the paint is peeling away revealing the myriad colours this door has been painted before. 

He regards the entrance cautiously and asks, 'There's no surprises up there is there? We're not about to walk in on someone? Because if we are--'

'--I live alone. I told you that. I don't have a habit of lying to people who aim guns at me.' I quip without thinking. I'm not sure where that came from and I regret saying it. The last thing I want to do right now is antagonise him. But, to my surprise he doesn't pick up on it. I guess the last thing he's worried about right now is sass.

The man reaches into the backseat and retrieves the basket of medical supplies. 'I'm gonna need a hand getting out. What floor do you live on?'

I hesitate before replying as I know he won't be pleased by the answer. 

'The top floor.'

'Tell me there's an elevator?'

'There's an elevator but it's broken.' 

'Why doesn't that surprise me.' He says, resigned to the fact that if he wants to get into my apartment he's going to have to walk up six flights of stairs with a ten inch hunk of metal imbedded in his thigh. 

'Let's do this.' The man says with urgency.

I get out of the car and as I walk around to the passenger door I discreetly scan the street for any sign of life. At this hour there's not another soul in sight. I open the door. The man passes me the basket of supplies then with a lot of effort we manage to get him out of the car and standing. 

This simple act, something I do everyday without thinking, is extremely painful and arduous for him. When he's out and vertical he takes a moment, sucking up the pain of the move. A moment later, when he's ready, he drapes an arm around my shoulder and I help him to cross the sidewalk and into the foyer of my building. 

Inside we take a breath. Just walking that far was tiring for both of us. Even though I have already told him that the elevator doesn't work he presses its button a few times. Unsurprisingly, nothing happens. 

'How long did you say it's been busted?'

'Over a year. It was like that when I moved in.' 

'That's a building code violation. You should report your super.' 

Given the circumstance I find that comment a peculiar thing to say. What does he care if my superintendent is useless and that there's a building code violation? Why even think it let alone say it? It makes me wonder who the hell this man is even more. 

'Doesn't bother me.' I say, dismissing it as trivial because it is.

The man puts his arm around my shoulder, a sign that he's ready to try to climb the first flight of stairs. 

'Be careful on the way up. A few of the stairs have loose panels. Don't trip.'

'How is this place not condemned? He asks. And I assume that's rhetorical so I don't offer any explanation. 

The first few stairs are painful and slow, but then the man puts a lot of his weight on his left arm on the banister, his right arm draped around me and he's able to hop his way from stair to stair.

While this process is faster, it worries me, as there's a thud every time he mounts another stair. The superintendent lives in the apartment on the top level right next to mine. The last thing I want is for him to wake up and see us in this state, or for the thudding to wake any of my other neighbors.

It takes a long, painful time, with a rest at the top of each landing, but eventually we are on the top level, and fortunately no has come out to inspect who is making the noise. 

As he takes a rest here I look back down at the stairs and realise that his wounded leg has dripped blood all the way up.

'You've left a trail of blood.' I say to the man. He looks back at the stairs and shakes his head. 'So?'

'If anyone sees it they'll follow it to my apartment and, well...' I don't finish that sentence and I don't think I need to.

'We're not staying the night here. This isn't a pyjama party sleep over. We'll be gone as soon as this is dealt with.' He says, gesturing to the immense wound in his thigh. 

'But what if someone comes home late before we leave and they come to my door?' I ask, genuinely concerned about this scenario. None of my neighbors are nine to five people. I hear folk coming and going at all hours. 

The man doesn't answer that. Instead he fixes me with a look that says: You already know what happens if someone uninvited knocks on your door.

What he does say is, 'Is this your apartment?'

'No, that's where my superintendent lives.'

He nods then together we continue to the only other front door on this landing. As we approach it I glance nervously at the base of my super's door. As far as I can see there's no light on, which means she's very likely asleep. She's not a night owl, but in the same breath she's not a deep sleeper, which is usually a great thing because when someone in the building is playing music too loud she's on them in minutes. But right now a light sleeping super is not exactly a bonus. 

We make it to my front door, and as I fish out my keys from my pocket the man leans against the railing for support.

'Be careful, not there!' I say a little too loudly. But it's too late. The banister starts to give way behind him. The man grabs me to stop himself from falling over the edge. I grip my front door handle to stop us from both going over and just manage to arrest our fall. Unfortunately, in the process, one of the banisters is knocked loose and falls all the way down to the very bottom where it lands with an immense thud that echoes loudly back up to us. 

Shit.

I quickly key open my front door and get us inside. I close the door behind us and I don't turn a light on in the hope that if the noise brings anyone out to inspect they won't think it originated from my apartment. 

We stand in silence for a full two minutes before I dare speak. 

'I think we made it.' I say then turn on a side lamp instead of the main light just in case. 

'Where's the washroom?' The man asks, and I point to it. 

'Help me in there and bring the medical supplies.' 

I pick up the basket, drape the man's arm around my shoulder and we manage to get to the entrance of the washroom when I hear a sudden and loud knocking on my front door.