*Stairs

Intro: I have watched a lot of cop shows where someone accidentally kills someone else and then tries to hide it. So that is how the story started. I am not sure I really like this ends up, but I think there is some potential for it. I need to come up with better story ideas.

Felicia dropped her keys on the coffee table and kicked her shoes into a corner. The restaurant had been filled with lousy tippers and she wanted to scream. A breeze drifted in through the window and she moved over and resisted the urge to slam it down. Once the window was closed, she untied the apron and lowered it to the table, next to her keys. The change clinked reminding her of how many bills she hadn't gotten. There were some nights she could pull in nearly a thousand dollars in tips. Her rent counted on long nights like that. Now she wasn't sure how to come up for the money in three days. She sat down on the couch and kicked her feet up listening to the noises outside. A car honked. Other tenants moved up and down the stairs outside. Her apartment building was busier at two in the morning than at two in the afternoon.

She nudged the money with her toe and sighed before climbing off the couch and heading for the kitchen. With a kettle on the stove she went to her bedroom to get her stuff to organize the pittance she had made. The rest of the money from the week was already organized and tomorrow was her weekly trip to the bank. She thumbed through the bills with a sigh.

The whistling kettle drew her back to the kitchen. The room seemed even colder than it had before and she was glad for the mug of tea. A small breeze brushed across her face and she stared at the curtain for a moment confused.

Coins jingled.

She dropped the mug of tea. The hot liquid seared through her trousers as it splashed everywhere. The man standing at her coffee table looked up and then at the small zipper money bag clutched in her hand.

He raised his hand and pointed his gun at her. She stumbled back. A car honked in the parking lot and he turned at the noise. She fled, running through the kitchen and out onto the back porch heading for the stairs. Footsteps pounded after her. Something grabbed her shoulder and she turned, staring at the man. She took a step back and her heel found nothing but air.

***

Felicia turned on the light and double checked all of the windows. All of the locks were engaged and only opened two inches. She glanced around the apartment and breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing was out of place. With her check already deposited in the bank she set her purse down on the end table and headed into the kitchen. Her knee brace clicked with every step and her continual headache had gotten worse. All she wanted was a cup of tea.

A man sat at her kitchen table, gun in his hand. She covered her mouth.

"If it weren't for you, my brother would still be alive."

"This can't be happening." She backed away towards the door.

He stood and motioned towards a chair with his gun. She shook her head. The bullet tore into the wall next to her head. She let out a little shriek and her knee gave way when she tried to run.

"I can't believe that you weren't even charged." He crouched down in front of her, waving the gun.

"It was an accident. We fell down the stairs."

"I think you pushed him."

"No. Please. I didn't mean—"

The gun barrel slammed against her head and all pain from the headache was forgotten.

"You should have been the one who died, not him."

He grabbed her hair and pulled her across the floor.

"That judge should have put you away. You got off easy with the court system."

Tears streamed down her face as he opened up the back door. This new apartment also had a porch which is why she never went out there. She often heard her neighbors out there and stood at the door watching them. But she never could get the night out of her mind.

Any staircase reminded her of the fall that night. The man's weight on her while she screamed for help. The intruder had snapped his neck in the fall. The judge had ruled that she was not at fault. She didn't remember much of the case recovering from her own injuries, a tore ACL and a fractured skull being only part of it.

The man continued to scream and yell, dragging her over the wooden planks to the railing. She reached up and clawed at his hand.

"Let me go."

The man kicked her side and she bit her tongue, blood filling her mouth. He hauled her up and shoved her towards the railing. Her stomach slammed into the wood and she whimpered. She clutched at the support as the man continued to shove her.

The force against her back disappeared and she threw herself backwards, collapsing at the base of the railing. The man lay pinned to the ground. One of her neighbors knelt on the attacker's back and looked up.

"Don't worry. Everything is going to be alright."

Another neighbor helped her to her couch where she remained, holding a glass of water until the police showed up. As an officer led the man away he laughed as he saw her. She climbed to her feet, balancing on her good leg. The man stopped and she gritted her teeth. Her hand made a pleasing slapping sound against his face.

"Feel better?" the neighbor asked.

"No," she sank back down on the couch. "I think it is time to move again. This time, no stairs."