It was ten in the evening.
Yuri sat alone in his studio apartment, staring at an empty coffee cup in his left hand, trying to decide whether he wants a third cup or not. On his right hand, his phone.
Sweat rolled down his cheeks from his short damp blonde hair. He stared blankly at the cup while replaying the conversation he just had with a woman on the phone, about sixteen minutes ago.
Did he hear everything right? he asked himself deeply.
It was half past ten in the evening.
A gust of cold wind came into Yuri's room as he opened the door to his tiny balcony. The thick black drapes shifted a little.
Two red plastic cups fell down from the small wooden table next to the window. The glass door shut behind Yuri.
His mouth started to tremble; his fist clenched tightly as he held back his tears while walking towards the railing.
The wind picked up a little and made Yuri's baggy sweat pants flap wildly for a quick second. Though he only had his red crew-neck shirt on, he didn't feel cold.
Both hands holding the railing, Yuri let out a shrill cry of agony coming from deep within. It started raining.
It was nine in the morning. A set of lips touched Yuri's right cheek, waking him up, alongside with a terrible hangover. Two of his friends visited him in his cozy, 60sqm.
apartment for a night of fun, board games, and beer pong.
The entire apartment was left a mess --- chips and cookie crumbs on the floor; plastic cups on the counter and the table; playing cards on the couch; board game tokens all over
the coffee table next to used syringes and crumpled aluminium foil.
"Happy birthday, son," Mrs. Cayman said softly after giving her son a kiss. She let herself in like what she normally does whenever she visits.
Yuri rubbed his eyes irritably, then, kicked the blanket off and jumped out of bed. His blanket fell on the side of the bed.
His mom picked up a red and white crew-neck shirt from the floor, threw it at his son, and gestured for him to wear it.
"Mom, I'm too old for this," exclaimed Yuri; a little infuriated. He never liked surprises. His baggy sweat pants flapped as he walked towards the toilet; slamming the door behind him.
Mrs. Cayman picked up six red cups from the kitchen counter, threw them in the trash, and set the cake down. She tied her long black hair and took the vacuum cleaner out the closet.
Something caught her attention while she tries to put the plug into the electrical socket behind the coffee table.
"Mom! I told you not to touch my things!"
"You told me you stopped using," Yuri's mom uttered, with a disappointed look on her face. She set down the syringe she had in her right hand for a while, back to the coffee table.
"I never asked you to come here and clean. Nor did I ever ask you to be part of my life."
Pieces of glass scattered all over the floor next to Yuri's bare feet.
It was a quarter before ten in the evening. Yuri's room was filled with darkness. A beam of light shined into the leftmost wall every time the curtains shift a little.
The wind made a whistling sound as it hit the windows and squeeze into the tiny gap.
A faint sound of voices echoed from the streets outside the building, while the sound of footsteps and clanking keys resounded from the other side of the wall. Yuri shifted uneasily on his bed.
He gritted the sides of the pillow as he buried his face in it. His phone rang. "You won't get away with it. I already told the police."
It was half past ten in the evening.
Yuri let out a shrill cry. It started to rain, so he went back into the room. The glass door creaked as he pushed it open. A red plastic cup got blown off the table as cold breeze rushed in.
The curtains swayed as Yuri closed the door behind him. Framed paintings on the wall swung from side to side. Chips crackled under Yuri's feet.
The poor lad burst out in tears as he walked towards his bed. He sat down and put both hands on his face; his elbows rested on his lap; his body arched uncomfortably.
A suppressed wail escaped Yuri's mouth. His face trembled as his whole body quivered anxiously.
It was a quarter past midnight.
The rain poured heavily. Flickering light from a broken lamp post illuminated Yuri's room in an eerie yellow shade.
Yuri picked up the last shard of glass from the floor and shoved it into the trash bag. He gave the bag a little shake as he tied it close, and set it next to the shoe rack.
One of his black leather boots fell out of the rack as the bag bumped into it.
He bent over to pick up the boot, then dusted it off a little and set it back to the rack, next to the pair of yellow peep toes. Yuri felt a cool breeze brush against his nape.
He spun around to check if he left the window ajar and shrugged to himself when he saw that it wasn't. It was a long day; he felt exhausted.
The bed squeaked as Yuri crawl onto it and get comfortable. He took his phone from the nightstand and tried to switch it on; the battery was dead, but he was too tired to look for the charger so he set it back to the nightstand.
Yuri took out his shirt, gave it a little sniff, and flung it immediately off to the floor. The strong stench of blood lingered in his sinuses. He felt a chill ran down his spine. The lamp post from the other side of the street died out permanently.
It was one in the morning.
Yuri snored soundly; a blanket covered half of his body. A set of lips touched his left cheek. He woke up in an instant. There was no one else around but he was no longer alone.