Chapter 1
She hoped she would never see him again. And she was terrified he would never return.
Each time she drifted back into consciousness, her body ached all over, and she wanted to move. She had never realized before how lucky she was to be able to walk around and do whatever she liked. Even in circumstances where she was expected to behave a certain way and had felt herself trapped, it was nothing like what she was faced with now, lying in that dim, dank room.
Even when she had felt like she didn’t have any choice in her old life, when she was supposed to sit still and be quiet and listen to someone drone on in a meeting or lecture, she’d still had choice. She could change her position whenever she felt like it. Move her arms and legs. She could even get up and walk out, murmuring an excuse if she wanted to be polite, and go to the restroom. Or even go home. What did it matter if someone got upset or angry? That wasn’t the end of the world.
Now, she would have given anything to be able just to change her position, stretch her shoulders, or sit up. But she could barely move a muscle. The manacles dug into her flesh, rubbing her wrists raw.
She wanted him to come and release her from her bonds. Give her something to eat. Walk her to the bathroom. She didn’t care if he stared at her. She would put up with that. She wouldn’t even complain. She would be perfectly easy to get along with, do anything he said.
But at the same time, she never wanted him to come back again. If he didn’t return, and she died there, lying bound on the bed, at least it would be over. She wouldn’t have to cower in terror before him, worried that anything she did, anything she said, looking at him too long, or having the wrong expression on her face could set him off. He would scream and rant, get in her face, hit her or twist her arm or something else that would have her screaming in agony.
He had taken her sweetheart from her, and she knew in her heart of hearts that she would never see him again. Never see her boyfriend with that loving, devoted puppy dog expression on his face. Never catch him in a poignant moment as he stared off into space, not realizing that she was watching him.
She felt like her heart had been torn right out of her chest. He was gone.
She feared that in another day or two, she would be too.
And she feared that she wouldn’t be, and it would go on forever.
Chapter 2
The landlord, a man of average size and build, much like Graham himself, might have been handsome if he had bothered to clean himself up. But Marcel was a greasy, sloppy pig of a man. His hair was greasy and stringy, longish but not down to his shoulders. His skin glistened with oils as if he had greased himself up before Graham had arrived. He wore a shapeless, decades-old band t-shirt, the worn name and picture no longer discernible, with stained gray sweatpants. He had probably been sitting in front of the TV in them for a month or two.
He gave Graham a pleasant smile and unlocked the apartment door. “Marissa recommended you,” he said. “I don’t usually like hiring outsiders, but she said that ‘Hall it Away’ had done a good job for her. She said you’re a hard worker and she was impressed with your work on her barn.”
Graham nodded. “I like to be productive. Work with my hands. My parents brought me up to know the value of hard work.”
Marcel nodded in agreement. “Young people these days just don’t get it. They are afraid of hard work. You have to commit to a job. Be willing to put the time and effort into it. Sitting around in the basement playing games isn’t going to get you there. I don’t know how they think they are going to get anywhere in life.”
He swung the door open and they entered the apartment. Graham could tell from the warm, stale air that it had been shut up for a few days. But luckily for both of them, it didn’t stink. Sometimes, when people abandoned a place, they left food in the fridge or even on the counters. Vermin got into them. You walked into a place like that, buzzing with flies, crawling with ants, the stink of rotting meat and sour milk combining with other unknown substances to ferment into something truly vomit-worthy.
Or sometimes it was vomit.
Or dirty diapers.
Graham was still new to the business, so he hadn’t experienced some of the things he had heard about on message boards from more experienced junk removal experts. Dog or cat carcasses. Toilets that had continued to be used long after they were clogged up and overflowing. Or not used.
Human beings really could be disgusting.
But the little apartment Marcel walked him into was not like that. Abandoned, but not disgusting.
“I need all of the personal items removed,” Marcel told him, turning in a slow circle to survey the apartment contents. “The large furniture can stay. I can rent it furnished. But only the large pieces, and only if they are in good repair. I’m not a slumlord.”
“Okay,” Graham agreed. “Just give me a minute to look around, and then I can give you a quote and get your signature on my standard contract.”
Marcel nodded. He went into the kitchen area and opened the fridge to double-check that there was no food about to go bad in it, while Graham took a quick turn through the other rooms—two bedrooms and a bathroom—to get an idea of how much he would need to haul and how much he would be able to sell or recycle. The job would take a few days; that much was clear. Marcel’s tenants had not taken much with them when they had abandoned the apartment. There were still clothes hanging in the closet, blankets and pillows on the bed, and some toiletries abandoned in the bathroom. From the looks of the empty spaces in the drawers, closets, and bathroom, they had packed two to four suitcases and left everything else behind.
More work to clean up, but also a good opportunity for a profit.
Graham returned to the kitchen and set his computer tablet on the counter. The clean counter. Even though they had been leaving, the tenants had wiped down the kitchen after their last meal.
“Okay, just give me a minute…” Graham plugged numbers into the quote sheet and turned it around for Marcel to see. “How does that look?”
Marcel glanced at the total and nodded. “Very reasonable,” he approved. “Are you sure you can do it for that much? You aren’t going to add on extra surcharges for dump and recycling fees?”
“The price is guaranteed,” Graham assured him, indicating the red lettering next to the signature line. “You will not be charged any extra fees.”
“Okay, then,” Marcel agreed. He used his fingertip to sign the quote. Graham pulled up the second document. “These are my usual terms. Do you want to read through that?”
Marcel scrolled through the agreement, doing no more than skimming the headings. Not surprising. Most people didn’t even bother to do that; they just gave the screen a few flicks to scroll to the bottom and signed it.
Marcel finished skimming the document and signed it. “Great, so you will have it cleared out before the beginning of the month so I can show it and get someone in here on the first?”
“It will be ready to show,” Graham agreed.
“Excellent,” Marcel approved. He gave Graham a nod and a ready smile. “Hall it Away.”
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