A rat scurried about the wet floor of the sewers. Some of the soft moonlight trickled down through the sewer gratings. It hit the murky water in such a way that made it almost look.... Completely disgusting. Roxy made a face at the rat as she watched him scurry along the dark passage way. He didn't care about her or her problems. He was off on his way, disappearing further into what had become her home. She had roommates. She followed the pathway further along. It was dark. Steam from the pipes gave off a little heat to brazen against the harsh Chicago night air.
The only sound in the sewers was the soft click of her boots on the wet floor. The occasional squeak rang out in the darkness and every so often something in the murky water gurgled sending bubbles to the surface. Whatever was making those gurgling bubbles Roxy was sure she didn't want to meet. She hurried her step along her own narrow passage way. She ducked under pipes and tried to not get any dripping water in her hair as she moved along the nasty place. Her fingers slid along the wall as she walked. Her fingers left a trail of mold behind. It ran along the wall and cracked and weaved and danced along behind her. As if it was happy to race her fingertips against the wet brick wall.
She stepped into a larger chamber. It was the central place where all the pipelines met. It was much larger to allow for maintenance if needed. The manhole cover above the center of the chamber had large holes on it. It easily allowed much more light into this chamber. The light of the moon speckled and flowed over the wet floor. She stood beneath it's silver glow and danced quietly. She laughed and swayed in the moonlight. She was happy. This was home, and though it wasn't perfect it was something. It was a place where she didn't have to worry about hurting anyone. It was a place where she could just be alone.
There was one other noise in the sewers that night. The quiet buzzing of music pushing through padded speakers of Roxy's headphones. They were the type with the band that wraps around your head. They were rather old, outdated, but then again everything she owned was old and unwanted. She mostly had things that were tossed out by others and she brought down into the sewers through a drainage pipe that let out into the polluted lake. Reaching down Roxy pressed stop on her tape recorder and folded it neatly. She set it down on an old rickety table with a wobbly leg. She opened up a mini fridge that had no power running to it. There was a few cans of warm pop inside and a few pieces of fruit.
Grabbing a can of pop and an apple she cracked open the top of the can and took a few gulps. She brought the apple to her face to take a bite and saw that it was rotten. A sigh spread across her face like an infection. "Oh right." She groaned. Reaching in her pocket she put on her leather glove. Opening the fridge she got another apple. This one did not rot from her touch and she bit into it.
Roxy took a few more hungry bites until it was mostly core. Juice dribbled down her chin. Her black lipstick refusing to smear. She snapped her fingers and did a rising motion with her hand and a chair rose from the wet cobblestone. It was a throne. Fit for a queen. It was made out of black mold and it seemed to move and dance as if it were alive. Roxy plopped in her chair, one leg hanging over the armrest. With a deep sigh she looked up at the manhole cover and just listened to the city above her. A world she could not be a part of.
