Chapter 1

Sarah opened the first file which consisted of eight or nine pages. The first page had a short summary.

Name: Wes

Age: 19

Day and Place of Birth: 1991/07/25, North Carolina

Parents: Dianna and Steve, divorced

Current Occupation: receptionist in “Mount Hotels”

<~*~>

Wes always wanted something more from life. It’s not that he wasn’t thankful for what he had but he wasn’t happy. He was currently working as a receptionist in one of many hotels that his father owned. If he wanted he could have had a better position in the hotel or even in the whole chain but he wanted to gradually earn the title. Though deep inside he knew that working in some hotel wasn’t what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. Nevertheless, he had a job and a future planned so maybe he couldn’t complain.

For the last three months Wes worked really hard. He was tired but didn’t want to take a day off, the sooner he was a great receptionist, the sooner he could move forward. He had a feeling that at the age of forty he would regret spending the best years of his life working non-stop.

“I’m leaving, Carlos. Goodnight,” he said moving towards the exit.

“Yeah, sure,” said Carlos not looking at Wes.

Wes knew the other receptionist didn’t like him. It wasn’t surprising though. They both started working at the same time. However, Carlos had to go through the application process, have two interviews. While all Wes did as to ask his father during a rare dinner with him.

Anyways, I’m working just as hard. Fuck it, I’m working even harder. That’s not a reason to hate me, bitter thoughts settled in Wesley’s head. Day after day he was nice to Carlos without a mutual response. That was one of a few reasons he didn’t like his job.

On his way home Wes always went to one diner to have late dinner. That night wasn’t an exception. He went in and found Meg behind the counter.

“Good evening, boy. How are you doing tonight?” the woman in her fifties asked.

“Evening, Meg. I’m fine but I will be better after the usual,” Wes smiled widely; he liked that woman.

“Right away! I saved you the last one,” she said and disappeared into the kitchen.

In no time a pork pie and a cup of lemon tea were placed in front of Wes.

“Enjoy,” Meg winked him.

“Oh, I will. Thank you,” Wes smiled genuinely and started eating.

After he was done he thanked the woman again, paid, and left. Wes wished his mother was like Meg: sweet, caring, always smiling…

The boy didn’t notice how he had reached the park he used to cross everyday on his way to work and back. There were no lights this time, it was odd. It must have been the doing of some hooligans.

Someone else would have chosen a different path but Wes liked the park and didn’t want to round it. Especially when he had to be at work early tomorrow morning and wanted to sleep as long as he could.

Yes, Wes wanted to get into bed as soon as possible. And yes, he would. But not into his own bed.

<~*~>

The second file was a bit thinner. Six or seven pages. The first one had a bit of basic information.

Name: Santana

Age: 20

Day and Place of Birth: 1990/09/16, New York

Parents: unknown

Current Occupation: barista at “Coffee Star”

<~*~>

Santana Lopez was stuck in monotony. There were two types of days in her life: when she had to work and when she had a day off.

On her workdays the girl got up early to get ready. It took a while for her because she used to be half asleep the whole time. She was not a morning person, not at all.

After taking a warm shower she used to feel even sleepier. She knew a cold shower was a much better option but she couldn’t bring herself for that torture.

The first cup of coffee didn’t do wonders so just before heading to work she drank one more cup. The third cup always waited for her at work.

Customers usually annoyed her to no end. Sometimes they didn’t know what they wanted or accused her for making a wrong drink. All Santana wanted was to throw the drinks to their faces. But she desperately needed the job so she just nodded and smiled.

After work she went home, took a bath, read some magazine or watched TV. She went to bed early to start an identical day in the morning.

The rent was steep and she needed food and clothes so the girl had days off only when the manager insisted. On those days she stayed in bed long after noon, went to a groceries shop, cleaned the apartment and just spent the rest of the day in a lazy fashion.

The girl had no friends. She blamed it on her busy schedule at work. She would have never admitted that it was because of her personality. Having no parents or a shoulder to lean on she had walls built around her, using offense as the best possible defense. It was easier that way.

Girls at work wanted to try make friends with her but Santana refused knowing that the friendship wouldn’t last long. Then things at work could get awkward and she didn’t want to have to go look for another job.

The fourteenth of June was the same as all workdays for Santana. It was Tuesday so not the busiest day. She finished her shift, said goodbyes and left. One of her coworkers suggested going to a bar that night and Santana promised to think about it though she already knew the answer.

She reached her building wishing she could rest her feet on the couch watching the reruns of ‘Prison Break’.

“Please, stop the elevator,” she heard an unfamiliar voice when the elevator she was in was about to close.

Santana did what she had been asked and waited for the man to get in.

“Thank you,” he smiled and the girl smiled back.

She watched the man curiously. He looked nothing like people who lived in that building. His suit made him look like some sort of business man, maybe a banker, and Santana couldn’t see such man moving in the building.

The man pressed the button of the eighth floor; she lived on the seventh. He was probably going to that girl who wore slutty clothes all the time. After all, she had that type of reputation so Santana didn’t feel guilty for assuming things.

The elevator went up and stopped at the girl’s floor. The doors opened. She couldn’t wait to get on the couch.

Yes, Santana wanted to get some rest. And yes, she would. But not where she expected to.