Snow pelted Adrian's face from all directions as she approached her apartment on Lincoln Street, right in the heart of Dorchester. The worst part about her daily commute was the walk to the bus station to her apartment building.

She had no place to park, so she, like many other Bostonians, was bound to the bus services to move around, especially annoying when going grocery shopping. Her arms were heavy with thin, plastic bags eating at her hands. Despite the uncessant cold, sweat drenched her back and forehead, giving the howling winds a new front to attack her.

429-R70, she repeated in her mind as the blue Camaro that had been following her since she left the market passed slowly next to her for the fifth time. She couldn't see the occupants since the windows were tinted, but she could have sworn that a flash went off in there at least once. She was being followed.

She switched all the bags to her left hand, rummaging her pockets for her house keys with her right hand. She was within sprinting distance from the entrance of her apartment, but she was not stupid enough to let her pursuers know where her apartment was. According to her own count, the car took up to two minutes to go around the block and back to her. Two minutes for her to run inside. But she knew that with the weight of the bags, she could never make it. She had to make a sacrifice.

Using her fingers to weigh each bag individually, she noticed that the heaviest one was the one containing a jug of orange juice and a tube of salami. That will do, she thought, gripping her keys tightly.

She slowed down as much as she could, waiting for the car to pass again. As soon as the Camaro turned the corner behind her, she took out her keys, slashing the bottom of her selected bag.

"Dammit!" she yelled in her most convincing voice, kneeling down beside the spilled contents. The car slowed down, passing right beside her. She could feel numerous eyes pinning on her, but made her best attempt not to look up. If she showed that she noticed, things could turn ugly for her. As soon as the car turned the corner again, she ran for it.

The bags jiggled and ripped under her fingers as she sprinted as best she could through the snow. Fearing they would break open, she opted to cradle them like a baby. One-twenty, she counted.

Fresh snow had covered the entire street, making each groove and crevice of the sidewalk a hidden spring-trap ready to pop out as soon as Adrian stepped on them, such as the case of a raised brick flower bed in which her foot got caught in.

She plummeted down like a tree, tossing her bags all over the sidewalk.

"Dammit!" she yelled, this time for real. Eggs were destroyed, soda spilling like a rocket, broken jars of spaghetti sauce, the works. The only thing that was surprisingly spared was a jug of milk.

Fifty-eight, a voice yelled in her head. She had no time to think about her pain. With all her strength, she sprung back up, taking the jug with her.

Thirty, she said in her mind as she reached the door of her apartment. She patted her pockets, but no keys could be found.

Adrian panicked. Her heart was beating non-stop, pumping blood to her ears. It was deafening.

A force deep inside her pulled her back to the flowerbed. Twenty-seven seconds.

She ran for it, leaving the jug at the foot of the door.

Her sweat had gone cold, replaced by the warmth of her blood pumping through her veins. Her thighs were burning up, as well as the scrapes on her knees. The only thing she could hear was the blood in her ears, and her own ragged breathing.

Something shiny caught her attention right under a lamppost. The fuzzy green key chain her wife had given her as a joke stood up like a beacon in the middle of the snow.

As soon as she reached out to them, she could see the orange glow of headlights just beyond the corner. Fifteen seconds.

No time to think. No time to analyze. She ran like her life depended on her, which for all she knew, it might've had. She thumbed the magnetic key to her building, ready to plunge it into the reader. Three seconds.

She mouthed a silent prayer, hoping the damn thing would work on the first try.

The light went on.

She pushed the door with all her weight, reaching for the milk as it opened up for her. She closed it with her body, sliding down out of view. She placed a hand on her chest, trying to calm down her heart just enough so that she could listen outside.

Tires screeched to a stop. Adrian held her breath. Now it was too quiet for her liking. She heard a car door open. Her hand was cold and shaking. Snow was crunching outside. Big steps. She closed her eyes.

The sound of a car door being closed resonated in the quiet street, followed by a sprinting car disappearing down the street.

She released her breath, heaving loudly. An immense pressure from her head was released making her dizzy on the spot. Almost on instinct, she reached for her phone, quickly going through her contacts until she found the one she needed.

Two rings it took for the person on the other side to answer.

"Hey, Adrian, what do you need?" said the male voice on the other side.

She took a few seconds to steady her breathing the best she could before speaking. "Hello, Nick. Can't a girl just call to see how you doing?"

"This late? I call bullshit. What do you need?" he replied nonchalantly.

"Always the lovely gentleman. I need you to look up a license plate for me first thing in the morning."

"Sure. Give it to me."

"Four, two, niner, Romeo, seven, zero."

"Okay, I'll punch it in and call you back in the morning. Imma take a nap now."

She hung up, not even replying to him. By then, her heart was steady, only leaving a slight cold feeling all over her. She pushed herself up but not before taking a glance back outside. No-one in sight.

Her legs protested each step as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Her apartment was 2-7, the farthest from the stairs. Unlike the door below, she had to jiggle the key a few times before the door opened.

The apartment wasn't big or luxurious, but it was enough for her and her little family. Warm pastel beige wallpaper adorned the rooms of the house, soothing her as soon as she went in. The wooden floor creaked under her feet with every step, alerting the occupants of the house.

"Mom?" a voice called from the kitchen, followed by a black pouf of hair peaking into the hallway.

"Hello, sweetie. Come give momma a hug," she said while beaming at him.

David was a scrawny kid, a bit small for his age, but with a brilliant head on his shoulders. He had the same eyes as his mother; jet black and big as saucers. It somehow made Adrian sad to see them, but it all went away as soon as he tossed himself into her arms, burying his head between her bosom.

"Sweetie! You're too old to be doing that! You are almost a teenager now," she said with a playful smile. His hair smelled like berries.

"Sorry. I just missed you. You smell like sweat."

"I love you too, kiddo," she said, kissing the top of his head. With her head clearer, she could smell a faint aroma of meat sauce.

"It smells delicious," she commented, "Marinara?"

"Bologneset," said David while beaming up at her.

"Same difference," she replied, breaking the hug to take off her coat.

"Want me to prepare a plate for you?"

"Nah. I had some Chinese take-out on the way here, but you can put this milk in the fridge on your way back," she said while giving David the jug. The heat of the room began to take a toll as the snow started to melt all over her clothes. Her shoes were especially drenched.

"Sure," he said as he walked towards the kitchen.

"Speaking off, what are you doing up so late? It's a school night."

"I was worried about you, mom!" he cried from the kitchen.

"Worry my ass. You were playing on that damn computer of yours. Go to bed. I'll clean up," she said, tossing her socks over a ventilation vent.

"But-"

"No buts, young man. You wanna keep being a runt your whole life? You need to sleep."

"Fine," he conceded, loudly stepping towards his room.

Adrian walked toward the living room where the lights were completely turned off, save for the television, giving the room a blue hazy tone. Aside from the TV, the only other sound to be heard was her wife's loud snoring as she laid on the sofa.

She looked just like a figurine, with her perfect dark skin glowing under the television light. Her glasses were a bit askew, tangled in her waist-length black hair. That's what first attracted Adrian to her. Silky smooth and glossy, and with never having to enter a hair salon to fix it either. For Adrian, Mimi had always been like a porcelain doll. Except when she snored, then she looked like a pug with bronchitis.

Adrian took the blanket from the floor and draped her with it. Unfortunately, Mimi was a light sleeper.

"Didi, you're home, finally," she said with a small smile. Her chubby hand grabbed Adrian's, playing with her thumb around her fingers.

"Hey, baby. Sorry for waking you up. You looked so... snug."

"I was snoring up a storm, wasn't I?" Mimi said while giggling. With some effort, she straightened up to a sitting position. "Don't worry. I was waiting for you anyways."

"Making you worry?" said Adrian, sitting next to her.

"You always make me worry," replied Mimi, patting her thighs playfully. Adrian didn't think twice before placing her head on Mimi's lap. An immediate wave of relief and peace washed over Adrian as Mimi began to pet her hair. Adrian felt safe.

"You don't have to worry about me. Evil never dies," Adrian said with a grin.

"You're as evil as a Furby," Mimi said playfully. "And just about as cuddly."

"Have you ever seen a Furby? Those are evil as fuck."

"Language," Mimi said, flicking Adrian's forehead. Even after eight years of marriage, there was still a youthful spark of first love between them.

"Sorry, can't help it. Cop talk."

"Did you bring the milk?" Mimi asked, brushing off Adrian's bangs.

"Of course. How could I forget? It was the last thing you said before leaving."

"Good girl. How was your day?"

Adrian's mind immediately flashed to the car outside. Her heart accelerated as she recalled the eyes on her. "Uneventful. Pushing papers. Eating donuts. Yours?"

"About the same," she replied. "I wanted to go out shopping, but... I dunno. I just wanted to wait for you."

"Wanna move this to the bedroom? I can feel a spring on my ribs."

Mimi thought for a second, before moving her head left and right in negation. "No. Wanna stay like this for a while. Catch up with that weird K-drama about time travel. See the remote anywhere?"

The remote was on the floor, close to where the blanket had fallen. Adrian reached for it with some effort, pressing the mute button, making the sound come to life.

"...and the public outrage over the merger has made ripples all over America, as many have said that this move will make an already dangerous drug more easily available. It's not a secret that the Glocal Conglomerate has put millions of dollars into lobbying for lower regulations certain drugs, hence why the streets are flooded with them, but one Democrat lawmaker is arguing that allowing this merger to happen will put more dangerous drugs on the streets. Here with us is Massachusetts' Senator Christian Goodell, and Chief Communications Officer for the Glocal Conglomerate, Gopal Reddy. Mr. Reddy, congratulations on your promotion!"

"Thank you, Maggie, it's good to be here, and if I may add, these accusations are extremely baseless. Glocal has always strive to serve America first, providing an accessible, easy-to-use solution for a mental epidemic that is plaguing our nation-"

"By creating another opioid epidemic?" said Senator Goodell, "or are you going to deny the side-effects of the blatant abuse of your product?"

"Now, I think that-"

"Physiological damage, psychosis, paranoia, suicidal tendencies, even insomnia. Not to mention the countless studies you have shut down on mental trauma and narcolepsy. This drug is the new cocaine and you expect us to do nothing about it?"

"Hey, Mimi," said Adrian, tangling her fingers with her wife's.

"Yes, Dici?" she replied.

"I don't wanna fall asleep today."

"...can't deny that abusing our product is harmful to anyone's health. But you can't blame the product for that. We aren't handing out our product to the American people like Halloween cand-"

"Yes. Yes, you are! We have extensive and conclusive evidence that your marketing efforts have targeted especially vulnerable patients and more and more psychiatrists are prescribing your drugs for anything from depression to grief. Mandraxin is not a miracle drug, and on your hands is the blood of thousands of Americans."

"Why not?" asked Mimi.

"Because you disappear when I fall asleep."

Mimi craned her head downwards, planting a kiss on Adrian's lips. Mimi's lips were cold and tingling.

"Don't be afraid. I will always be here. Only a daydream away."

"We have helped-" Reddy started to say before Senator Goodell yelled at him.

"No! You have hooked a generation on a path to doom! More and more people are choosing their own reality over truth. You are not making people accept their fate; you are pushing them into the abyss! Reality gets distorted to a point of non-functionality."

"Do you swear it?" asked Adrian, closing her eyes.

"I swear it," answered Mimi, placing a hazy hand on Adrian's head.

"Good. I miss you, Mimi."

"I miss you too, Didi."

And with that, Adrian fell asleep.

"Your peace is a lie. You are merchants of doom."

When Adrian woke up, her face was marked with the grooves of the blanket. She was cold and alone, the same as every day. The TV was blaring something about a march in Florida, something entirely too loud for her to be listening in the morning. Muting it once again, she stood up, stretching her body. Her mouth was dry as cotton, but a glance at the clock showed that she was already late for work.

She ran to the kitchen where she tossed a Hot Pocket into the microwave. She didn't bother to drink water from a glass, lapping at it like a dog stright from the faucet instead. The microwave beeped four times, letting Adrian know her food was ready.

Adrian opened the microwave, but there was nothing inside. She took a deep breath before going back to the fridge to retrieve another Hot Pocket. There was no box in the fridge.

I need to get some groceries, she thought. I'll eat out.

She went to the entrance of her apartment to get her coat when she noticed the milk jug from yesterday spilled on the floor. It had coated her shoes and socks. She took out a mop next to the coat rack and quickly soaked up the excess milk. She made a mental note to get more on her way back.

Just as she was about to leave, her phone rang. She answered.

"Mike, talk to me."

"Adrian, I punched it in."

"And?"

"No dice. There is no car with that license plate on the system."

Adrian took a deep breath. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, you know I don't half-ass anything. I'll check again but I doubt it'll show anything. Keep you posted."

She hung up, yet again.

There was silence in the room. Of course Mike would not find anything. There wasn't a car with that licenplate, just as there was no Mimi. Or David. Or Hot Pocket.

She stood in front of the door, staring at nothing in particular, just admiring the swirls and groves of the old wooden door.

She punched the door with all her might, suppressing a scream from booming out.

She punched again.

And again.

And again.

She punched until her knuckles were bloody and raw.

She punched until the door was coated in blood.

She punched until she stopped hating herself.