The devil is back.
Did you miss me?
1
Lana
This job has been taxing on my physical health, but the money has to come from somewhere, you know? I don’t even want to talk about my mental health. I flushed that shit down the drain a long time ago.
“Lana, get your fucking ass over here!”
I straighten, take a deep breath, and head for my boss.
Not right now, Lana. Calm yourself down.
“I’m here,” I tell my boss as I enter his crusty-ass office. This shithole isn’t even an office but a little space tucked at the end of the diner. Fucking hell, who can work at a place like this? Well, I do.
“Lana, I need you to take on an extra shift tomorrow,” he orders me incredulously. My boss, Belmin, is fucking ugly with his receding hairline, dark circles underneath his eyes, and dreadful tattoos all over his arms. Listen, I love tattoos whenthey are done right. I think the asshole didn’t even pay a real artist to do all of that, he probably did it himself at home.
“Are you eyeing my tattoos?” Belmin is trying to flirt with me because he looks me up and down like he wants to devour me. I need a puking bag as soon as possible. I still don’t find myself saying anything because I need this job. The gig at the hotel won’t help me at all.
“I wouldn’t dare.” I give him a fake smile. “Yes, I can work tomorrow.”
“Good girl.” This asshole even licks his lips while he speaks to me. I put my hands behind my back and intertwine them. I don’t like being called a good girl, especially not by sleezy men. Men, the biggest abomination on this beautiful planet.
“I’ll be on my way then. Have a nice evening, Belmin.” He waves me off dismissively, and I happily accept that. I go to my beat-up car, which is probably prohibited in most countries. The sun is starting to set in Sarajevo; this is the only consolation I can find today. I lean against my car for a few minutes, taking it all in.
Life can be good.
Yeah, as if.
I shake my head and get into my car. The drive from the run-down diner to my apartment is only ten minutes. I’ve been trying my hardest to conceal the pain I have been enduring for the last couple of years. To make matters worse, I took this fucking job to survive in this world. A world where predators are the sane ones, and the innocent are looked at like they belong in an asylum. God forbid someone knows how to control their emotions.
“What the fuck?” I say out loud as I park near my apartment building. I get out of my car and notice all the people on the street first. More specifically, fellow tenants from my apartment building. The area where the entrance to our building is closed off is marked with yellow tape. What the fuck happened?
“What happened?” I ask Josipa, an old lady who loves to gossip. She doesn’t meet my gaze and crosses her arms, looking at our shitty building, which is on the verge of collapsing.
“There was a gas leak in our building and our neighboring apartment. But I think there’s something else.”
“Oh?”
“SIPA agents are also present. Look at them.” She points her head toward the tough-looking agents. SIPA agents are the Bosnian FBI. They operate at the state level and often intervene when high-profile murder cases are involved, or cases that are too dangerous for the local police. Just as my mind is about to go reeling with the possibilities, another set of SIPA agents comes out with bags. That means there hasn’t been a murder, right?
“Jebo te,what is happening?” Josipa hit the nail on the head. The other tenants are starting to get suspicious, and just like clockwork, rumors are spreading. It’s funny how easily humankind can believe what it hasn’t seen yet. Those whispers die down when an officer approaches us.
“Listen up, everybody!” he shouts at us. We all gather behind the yellow tape.
“The building will be safe to enter in about twenty minutes.” That clarifies a couple of things.
Not now, Lana.
“What about the gas leak?” Josipa asks the officer.
“The information about the leak is proven to be false. The building is safe.” The way the officer chose his words is meticulous. SIPA agents are known for not telling you shit, unless it’s time. Like a…
“There will be a press conference in twenty minutes.” What did I tell you?
“Until then, access to the building is strictly prohibited. Once we have conducted our investigation, an officer will let you intothe building.” We all sigh with relief when the office says that, but it leaves us with one question…
