“How the hell did you get up there”, I shouted to my emotionless friend on the roof beside me.

“The stairs.” She pointed to the fire escape on the side of the building.

It was dark and rusted, scrapes of black metal lying on the cigarette ash-sponge concrete underneath it. I thought it was possible that she was the first person to ever use them. Or, at least, the first person to ever go up them. The ladder was raised off the ground, specifically in defense of this exact situation. It wasn’t raised high enough though, as Bunny had pulled over a patio chair from one of the restaurants a few buildings away. I have no idea how she did that without getting caught, and I didn’t have enough time to conspire as I saw Rose immediately climb on top, reaching for the metal bars.

“Rose, not you too! That’s trespassing; just because Bunny does it doesn’t mean you should!”

“That’s exactly why I should! Trust me, it’s safe. I need to see what she’s doing.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I shouted. It wasn’t angry shouting, really, I was just confused as to why they were doing this at all. I never really thought I could trust either of them to begin with, but having those two together is opening up a new world of questionable decision-making for them to explore.

I inspected the chair that was hastily scrambled over. For some reason, there were cuts in the teal cushion. It was several jagged lines surrounded by a circle, itself jagged and with rough edges. They weren’t deep, but it was clear that they were deliberate. Did some teenage goth kid really mess up the anarchist symbol that badly?

It seemed like one of its legs was wobbling when Rose stood on it, so I’m a bit afraid of putting my whole weight on it. Uh, not that I was thinking about doing that. I’m not climbing up there. Tonight doesn’t seem like a great night to get arrested.

I really think that. And I really, honestly, truly mean it from the bottom of my heart. I know myself and what I want. I don’t want to get myself, or anyone else, in trouble. And yet;

My teeth grit.

My eyes water.

Every muscle in my body tenses and contracts.

I was jiggling the handle of this random building’s back door.

I don’t know why. I don’t know why. This is the last thing I want to do. Every alarm in my head is going off, but I’m trying to get inside this building. This building, with anyone in it, doing anything; my subconscious wanted inside.

But the doorknob wouldn’t budge. It was locked. Cut my losses, pack up, and move on? No, time to buckle down. I pick up the chair that my “friends” had climbed on. It wasn’t very heavy, but I hoisted it up in my trembling hands. I adjusted my stance in front of the door. I was gearing up to use it like a battering ram. And I did. All of my body weight, speed, and force; into this locked door.

It’s a terrifying sound, hearing yourself slam into a solid object; especially against your own wishes and self-interest. It’s also scary hearing the legs of a wooden chair snap off, waiting to feel if it was one of your own limbs. I didn’t fall over, but it might have been easier on my body if I had. Instead, when I made contact, I didn’t budge at all. Every ounce of power I had mustered was relocated into my own body. It didn’t hurt much, though. I was feeling pretty numb.

God, what the fuck is wrong with me?

Why am I hurting myself?

And why am I acting so goddamn stupid?

A battering ram?

I don’t want inside the door. I don’t care what’s inside. I don’t even want to see those two again. But if I’m going inside, if I absolutely must; then I’ll reason with myself. There’s a smarter way.

I pulled a little brown hairclip off of my head, and inserted it into the lock on the doorknob. I put my ear to the surface, though I don’t remember exactly what I should be listening for. I felt a voice in my head; that silent voice that kept telling me to do stupid things; ask what I was doing. Leave me alone, I’m picking a fucking lock.

It took a few minutes; minutes that got increasingly frenzied and worried. I somehow felt like I was wasting time. Wasting time for what? I wish they hadn’t neglected the security on this building, because eventually I got it. The handle turned, and the hinges on the door popped. It’s been a while since this was opened.

I peek inside.

It’s completely dark, and all the windows were boarded from the inside. I thought 17th street itself smelled like smoke, but this was incredible. If someone had told me that all its smoke had originated from this one building, I may have believed them. Yet, there were no apparent signs of smoke itself. There are several boxes scattered around, and what looks like some desks or something with a tarp draped over them.

I caught my breath for a moment, and stepped inside.