Page 59 of Levee

Something.

Anything.

I did go through his contacts and eventually sent messages to a few people asking if they’d heard from Harvey, that I was his neighbor and hadn’t seen him around and that I was worried.

That was literally all I could do at that point. I hoped it might put some red flags up. Then maybe someone else could look into this whole thing and leave me out of it.

Still, though, the discomfort, uncertainty, and fear was making it hard to sleep, eat, work, focus.

That was why I’d made myself go to the gallery even when I wasn’t really feeling keen on getting myself all fancy, let alone leave my apartment.

It wasn’t like me to be such a shut-in. I didn’t want it to become some sort of disorder that might actually prevent me from being able to leave. I’d known someone in high school who, over the summer vacation, developed bad panic attacks that struck her whenever she left the house until, eventually, she couldn’t anymore. She’d needed to drop out of public school and become homeschooled.

And while I did feel like my fears were justified in wanting to be and stay somewhere relatively safe, I was trying not to let the fear rule my every move.

“Of course,” I grumbled when I got back from the gallery to find no spots on the well-lit street. Meaning I had to park in the back lot with the three busted lights and one flickering one that always made me feel a little twitchy, then walk around the building to get to the front.

It was something I probably wouldn’t have given too much thought to before. But now, I felt sweat prickling my neck as I climbed out of my car.

I eyed the dumpsters like the men would be hanging around there, beating on another one of my neighbors.

There was nothing. Save for the rustling and chewing sounds of, I imagined, rats, since the dumpsters had overflowed and spilled bags onto the ground.

My nose wrinkled at the rotting smells of hot garbage as I ducked my head and walked a little more quickly, feeling like I wouldn’t be able to breathe fully again until I was behind my locked door. After a sweep of my entire apartment, of course. It was another new ritual of mine that I hoped wouldn’t be hard to shake.

I was reaching to pull the scrunchie that had my key attached off of my wrist as I rounded the corner of the building.

I heard the breath of them behind me just a second too late to react.

By the time my breath sucked in, planning to scream, even if I didn’t know if anyone would actually come running, hands were grabbing my arms, turning me, and slamming me face-first into the brick wall.

Too fast to throw out my arms to brace myself, to push against the wall, to slow the momentum.

The pain exploded across my nose and spread outward, making my cheeks and eyes hammer with agony.

Tears flooded my eyes and streamed down my cheeks from the impact.

The hand shifted up to the back of my neck.

This time, my reaction was just slightly faster, turning just enough so that when the pressure was applied to my neck, it was my cheek that met the brick.

There was a jagged edge to some of the mortar between the bricks that scraped against my cheek. It was a burning type of pain that was quickly eclipsed by the throbbing pain still taking over my nose.

“You need to mind—“ the voice seethe, his spit touching the shell of my ear.

“Get the fuck away from her,” another voice interjected, making my heart soar even as the hands released me, as the presence of the other man disappeared completely.

I whipped around, my whole body shaking, searching in the darkness for my savior.

I don’t know what I’d been expecting. But a tall, scrawny teenager in clothes about five sizes too big was not the hero I’d anticipated.

His voice sounded deeper than his years. Which, judging by certain facial markers, I would put at only maybe fourteen.

“You okay?” he asked, moving closer.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, reaching up toward my face to grab my nose, feeling the blood immediately start to coat my palm and fingers.

“You should prolly get it looked at. My brother got his nose busted. Didn’t have money to go to the clinic, so he got this nasty-ass bump on it.”

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