Green Door

Iris walked into the coffee shop. Her anxiety fluttered above her head when she saw the number of people inside. She scanned the tables for possible people who allow her to join them. It was a thing she often did. You watch too much Dateline, she would tell herself. She scanned for men who could be possible threats, which wasn’t out of the ordinary for New York. Her eyes sharpened like a dagger when they settled on a man: large, muscular, with a thick brown beard. He was obviously a construction worker, judging by the construction hat and yellow vest on the table next to him. He didn’t seem like a bad person. He was most likely a middle-aged father of some sort, judging by how old he looked, and a nice man. He was chatting with one of the waitresses when he smiled at Iris, noticing her staring at him. She gave him a kind smile back and looked around.

A young waitress with pink hair guided her to a table in the corner, a fake smile plastered on her tight face as she ushered her to the table. “What do you want?” she asked in a bored and unamused tone.

Should I get a chocolate Frappuccino or a vanilla latte? Iris thought, her mind buzzing with indecisiveness.

“Come on, we don’t have all day,” the pink-haired waitress grumbled under her breath.

Iris wasn’t trying to be rude, but she noticed how unattractive the young girl was. Her face was tight and lizard-like; her pink hair, tightly pulled into a ponytail, was messy and unwashed. That distracted Iris just enough that when the waitress demanded her order one more time, she blurted something out. “Um, can I get a black coffee, please…” she said without a second thought.

Iris didn’t hate black coffee, but she didn’t like it either. She liked the bitterness of it, but the lack of sweetness bothered her sometimes.

“Wait, can I change that order?” she said in another uncertain tone.

Her pink-haired tormentor just turned around and rolled her eyes before walking away, the neon-colored hair disappearing into the kitchen of the coffee shop.

She looked outside. The sun was about to set over a small building. Even though she was getting coffee, it was still almost nighttime. She glanced around the coffee shop, looking for men who were possible threats to her. Besides the construction worker, there was a man with black hair in a tight tuxedo. He was older, about 40, and looked exceedingly impatient while waiting for his order. There was another boy with dirty-blonde hair and black-rimmed glasses who was absorbed in his computer. He shot Iris a strange look before going back to his digital life on his phone. He looked like a high school student. He was African-American and had a small red backpack slung over his shoulder.

She turned back to the table when a small buzzing came from her purse. She opened the black leather Coach bag and grabbed her phone, which was nestled in its spot by her apartment keys. The text was from an unknown number. It must be Scarlet or Aubrey, she thought of her coworkers to whom she had given her number. The girls were kind people and wanted to grab lunch sometime, so she had given them her number and gone on with her life. They had plans for Saturday, two days from now. She wanted to get her coffee quickly so she could go work her night shift at the pottery place where she worked. She had been assigned the night shift after the last person quit because the grandmother was in the hospital and couldn’t keep up with the work hours. All she had to do was clean the store, lock it up, and leave by at least 4:30. It was 6:15 right now.

The pink-haired girl came bounding out of the kitchen with her order. The black coffee was iced—not how she had ordered it—but she wasn’t going to complain. She didn’t want to deal with the girl any more than she had to. She quickly opened the text message and read it: “Hello Iris.”

Her eyes scanned the letters before she quickly texted back, “Are you Aubrey or Scarlet?” She sent the message and set the phone back into her purse before grabbing her coffee. She thanked the waitress, but all the girl did was turn around, nearly hitting Iris in the face with her neon pink hair, before bouncing back into the kitchen.

Her phone buzzed again while she was gathering her things. She opened the text and her heart stopped. Fear tangled up her spine like a creature taking control of her. Her phone started to slip from her fingers and she dropped it on the floor before quickly gathering it once more.

There was a picture of her sitting at the table and thanking the waitress.

“Who are you!” she texted back before quickly turning off her phone and grabbing the coffee.

As soon as she touched the cup, another buzz from her phone appeared. It was a video this time. She was nervous; her hands were shaking as she clicked on it. It was a video of her looking at the first message, her phone slipping onto the floor of the coffee shop. A surprised expression crossed her face. She looked for the video angle, but the only things she saw were the table, a computer, and a phone charger. The dirty-blonde-haired boy must have been—

She glanced around to see a young child about four months old cradled in his mother’s arms. He smiled at her; his bright blue eyes and rosy red cheeks were highlighted in the light of the shop. The cuteness of him lifted her heart as she sprinted out the door looking for a safer place. Fear was now pounding in her chest. She raced across the crowded streets of New York. She turned three times, looking around, when another buzz came from her phone. She picked it up quickly. Seeing the unknown number, she found it was another picture of her standing outside the coffee shop. Another shiver trickled down her like a disease infecting her every muscle.

What did he want from her? The stalker.

She glanced in the direction the picture could have been taken from. She saw nothing but a pair of trampled black-rimmed glasses on the sidewalk. She raced inside as another buzz hit her phone. The text made her shiver with coldness and fear: “Call the police and I will kill you.”

She hadn’t thought of calling the police until that very moment. Was it a threat, or was it some kid AirDropping her, playing a horrible prank? She looked across the street to see a Hilton hotel in all its grandeur staring right down at her. She sprinted across the street as soon as the light turned red for the cars. Angry honks from irritated drivers exploded throughout the streets.

She ran into the hotel, startling some employees behind the desk who were no doubt getting ready for the night shift. Another ding erupted from her phone, and a cold hand clasped around her shoulder. She turned around to see a man six feet tall with dirty-blonde hair like grease flat against his face. She couldn’t see his identity, but he was wearing a black sweatsuit and had a wicked grin on his face.

She grabbed the only thing within reach and slammed it into his face—her coffee—no doubt getting it in his eyes. He screamed in agony as the lukewarm liquid filled his vision. She sprinted toward the elevator, clicking the close button so many times she couldn’t even count as fear basically immobilized her.

As soon as the door shut, she wondered: What was she going to do? He was eventually going to find her. She could slip out without looking if she led him to the top floor, but she had a better plan—a plan that could stop this man from harassing other girls.

The door opened, and that’s when she noticed she was on the fourth floor of the hotel. She burst through the door, taking wild turns down the hallways, not caring where she went. She could barely walk. Every step felt like a mile to her as the seemingly identical hallways flashed in her peripheral vision.

It took a while for Iris to reach the next elevator. She pressed the open button a thousand times before it opened. Looking around for the man, when she turned to walk into the elevator, the tall thing in front of her loomed like a monster. The beastly creature that was known as a human stood before her. She could finally tell who he was.

“Roger.” The name was sour and bitter on her tongue—her ex-boyfriend, whom she had dumped after figuring out he had three girlfriends and was hooked on methamphetamines, spending her college money on them and practically leaving her with nothing when she disappeared from his life and moved to New York.

“Long time no see, baby,” he said, using his old nickname for her.

“Don’t call me that,” Iris said, backing away as he reached inside his hoodie pocket. Something silver and shiny fell out and into his hand. He clasped a large knife—about a foot long. It looked more like a machete, but the fear in her eyes amplified its actual size.

She backed away more; tears blocked her vision as she hit the wall of the hotel hallway behind her. “Please, you don’t have to do this,” she cried, thinking that if she took him back, he would stop this madness.

“It’s too late for apologies, Iris,” he said, his ice-cold voice sending another shiver of fear through her entire body, weakening her legs.

“Tonight’s the day you die.” Another slithering echo of his voice amplified down the hallways as he drove the knife through Iris’s stomach.

A painful gasp of blood filled her lungs as he twisted the knife inside her. She screamed in agony, but still doubted that anyone could hear her. She pushed him away with her foot, kicking him in the groin as he collapsed into the elevator. She clicked the close button on him right before he jumped out, pushing the elevator doors so he could escape from their grasp.

She sprinted down the hallway, leaving a large trail of blood. She knew he had severed one of her arteries, judging by how much the blood was squirting in front of her—at least twelve feet, she thought. She could barely run; her legs limped in front of her as she cried, tears filling her vision.

She looked behind her as she hit a left turn, slamming into the wall. When he reached her, holding her by her blood-soaked shirt that lay limp around her skin, “Please,” the only word she was able to choke out was please as her head lay against the wall.

He screamed in her face, sending another shiver down her spine. She got a look at his eyes. They were bloodshot—a clear sign he was high. His scream echoed through the hotel as spit got into her face. She knew she wasn’t going to survive. The man’s rage would overpower her adrenaline by a large amount.

He grabbed her shirt and pulled her closer to him, slamming her against the wall over and over until there was an indent in the drywall behind her. Her head was bleeding. He dropped her on the ground. She curled up into a small ball, shivering in the cold that her body was consumed in.

I don’t want to die today. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. She yelled in her mind while Roger screamed profanities at her.

She grabbed his feet and tripped him. From behind, his head slammed hard with a thud on the ground. She sprinted toward the stairwell, climbing to the top floor—twelve floors of this hotel and she was only on the fourth. That’s eight more stories to go.

She ran up the stairwell, tripping on multiple occasions, but it didn’t matter. No matter how much pain she felt and how much blood she lost, she was going to survive this. She was not going to die.

She reached the fifth floor when she realized she wasn’t going to make it to the top using the stairwell. She looked down—Roger was only a few flights below. She turned around to see an elevator before she sprinted and tripped before clicking the button, pressing it fifteen times over and over until it opened.

Roger was at the top of the stairs when it opened. She closed it shut right before he walked in, but it was too late. He was inside the elevator with her as it was going to the twelfth floor.

He stabbed her again in the side that separated her rib cage and her hips—three times. The knife dug into her before she pushed him away, taking control of the knife, holding it in front of her. The blood from her stomach dripped onto the bottom of the elevator, making it look like a red sea surrounding their feet.

He came at her, but she stabbed him in the leg. A painful scream of agony erupted from him as she slashed him across the forehead. She had learned from YouTube that if you were ever being followed or attacked, use a knife to slash across the forehead—it’ll bleed much more and block the vision of your attacker.

The doors finally opened. She tripped on the elevator floor, dropping the knife in front of her, but Roger grabbed her foot and she kicked him away, running down the hallway without the knife.

She finally found the flight of stairs that led to the roof. He was only about three feet behind her when she slid, drifting on the concrete floor of the stairwell as she scurried up, tripping one more time before hitting the doorknob. It broke her nose when her head collided with it. She screamed again, opening it quickly and shutting it on Roger before bounding across the concrete roof of the hotel.

She made it to the edge before she couldn’t stop anymore. Roger opened the door and burst through like an ape. He looked like an unknown monster—a man she didn’t recognize. She wasn’t going to survive. She knew that much.

“IRIS, I’M GOING TO KILL YOU! THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!” he screamed, his words not making much sense.

“TODAY IS YOUR LAST DAY ON THIS PLANET AND I DON’T CARE IF I SERVE LIFE IN PRISON BECAUSE OF IT!”

His echo crossed the city skyline. The New York skyscrapers were a blur in the background as he loomed closer, stumbling and tripping over himself.

She backed closer to the edge, not knowing what to do when an idea sparked inside her mind. It zoomed through the fear. She knew what she had to do. She knew what he was going to do as he mumbled on about how he was going to kill her, decapitate her, and show her severed head to her family. That was all a blur in her mind as the druggie she used to date walked closer and closer until he was only about five feet away.

He screamed as he leapt closer to her, jumping in the air like a leopard stalking its prey. She dodged, ducking close to the cold concrete roof. He screamed as he flew off the top of the hotel and into ongoing traffic twelve stories below.

She looked down as he fell, his mangled body squirming in the air, trying to catch himself on anything before he hit the ground with a thud. He was halfway on the sidewalk and in the road as a taxi cab ran over his legs with a bloodcurdling cracking noise. The same woman with the baby screamed at the side of the dead man in front of her.

Iris turned onto her back and stared at the beautiful sky, feeling relief for the first time in a few hours. She exhaled a sigh of relief, catching it between her lips as a blinding light blazed through her, tearing her retinas apart. The blinding light was somehow comforting as it guided her through what she knew was heaven.

She thought of the baby that smiled at her. She thought of her kind father. She thought of her mother having to get the news of her dead daughter. She thought of the man she killed and the husband and children she’d never get to have. She thought of the future in heaven she was going to have.

Most importantly, she thought of how her friends Scarlet and Aubrey were never going to have lunch with her and the world was never going to remember Iris Marie Smith as anything but another sad murder case committed by a crazy ex-boyfriend. She was nothing in this world and was never going to be remembered by anyone outside of her family.

A tear trickled down her cheek and landed on the cold cement below her as she stared up at the skyline. The pinkish orange turned into a dark blue as it dotted with the stars. She had always loved sunsets more than sunrises.

The blinding light became more unbearable. She closed her eyes, trying to get away from it as she slipped into death…

The End.