Andromeda

Introduction

She loved her job, but she hated her life. She used her work as a zoo night guard as a way to escape from it all; to become someone else. Working long hours on the night shift was an excuse to stay away from her abusive boyfriend, Paul, who would get drunk on cheap vodka and beer, and force himself, half limp, inside of her on those Saturday nights she had off. She hated him for it, she hated his stench; atrocious body odor, and car grease, she hated that she had once thought she had loved him, and she hated herself for rolling over and taking it like a bitch, but she was terrified of what he would do to her if she ran away.

She had resisted once, tried to tell him no, tried to slap him. He had beaten her with his star-studded, black leather belt so savagely that she’d had to take a week off of work, a week away from the only thing in her life she derived pleasure from. She would always have a star-shaped scar on the back of her right thigh as a reminder of her failed resistance.

Now, she just let it happen on those occasional Saturday nights, she didn’t bother struggling anymore. It meant that she wouldn’t need to see him for the rest of the week. More often than not, he would pass out on top of her, half drunk, and she could extricate herself from underneath his gut, and stand on the back porch, leaning up against the old metal railing, green paint flaking beneath her forearm. She would pull a Marlboro Light out of the pack she didn’t leave home without. Savoring the rich, sharp flavor. Watching the blue smoke rise in tendrils, ghost-like, from her lips, she would cry.

Chapter 1

My shift began at eight PM sharp. I would show up in my uniform, ready to leave my life at the back door, returning to my fantasy as I walked through the double doors of the security building. My uniform was grey—it matched my eyes. Like those of a stranger, they would look at my reflection in surprise every time I glanced in a mirror, confused about who the woman standing before them was. I used to think I was pretty. I had my mother’s rich, russet brown skin and long limbs, like those of a sprinter. I’d once worn my dark frizzy hair long, but had taken to cropping it short. A small, but delicious rebellion against Paul’s desires.

I’d never met my father, but I had been told they were his eyes, so maybe I always will be a stranger to them.

Tossing my phone into the standard issue blue, metal locker, I pulled out my insulated grey jacket with the words NIGHT SECURITY emblazoned on the back, as well as my walkie talkie. I worked the same shift as another night watchman, Julien. He was a short, sweet Japanese man, and in my opinion, the last person you’d want guarding anything, being both too spacey, and too nervous to be useful if it came down to the nitty-gritty. We worked in concentrically rotating circles, so I only saw him twice a night, but I appreciated knowing he was there.

My jacket was like an okay veneer for my cheap, plywood body. It gave me the look of somebody confident, somebody with a purpose who was damn good at their job. I loved it for what it did to me, because sometimes I actually felt almost okay in it, I felt as if Paul couldn’t hurt me.

Sighing, I shrugged it on and pushed through the double doors, my fantasy beginning.