Chapter One

Maya walked down the sidewalk, hands shoved deep into her pockets in failed attempt to rid her hands of the cold that was slowly seeping into her bones. The cloud cover that had filled the New York skyline for the past few days had been swept away last night, leaving the sky clear and the brisk wind and freezing temperatures to settle back into the city, fighting their way into every home without a heater, every soul without a coat. Maya's short, heeled boots clopped quietly down the street as she made her way home from her subway stop. Her purse bounced rhythmically against her hip and her blonde curls were pulled into high bun on the top of her head, a few wisps framing her face, fallen down after a long day of work.

She had been working her butt off recently; being on the leasing architectural team was not nearly as easy as she had imagined it to be. All day she labored away up in a sleek skyscraper, a beautiful view she might add, to help design new buildings for any person who was not content with the previous building on the land they were renting. Slowly but surely Maya was helping update New York to the best it could be, starting with the old, safety-hazardous buildings. She not only made the new ones beautiful, she worked to make them safe, prioritizing others' safety and well-being, something Mr. Matthews had instilled in her in her adolescence. She clung to those lessons he had taught, formed her life around them. She hadn't been to the Matthews' house in quite a bit, and she mentally put that on her already crammed schedule to-do list.

The sun was setting low in the sky, the clear day letting the last rays of the evening be seen between the concrete walls that had been erected in the city. For February, it was still very cold, but these few rare peeps of sun brought the feeling of spring to those who quieted themselves enough to acknowledge the few buds appearing on the trees, scared to open up, but there nonetheless. Maya was one of these people that took notice of the coming spring and looked forward to it. Spring was one of her favorite seasons to paint, not that she'd have the free time to paint as her hobby, but here and there she might find a break to sketch. Oh how she missed her hobby days. She loved how her job still incorporated her art, but it just wasn't the same.

"Oh well," she sighed to herself, the wind carrying her words off, "that's how life goes. All work, no play. The joys of growing up." She shouldered her messenger bag along with her purse, keeping them from sliding down her arm. Right as she had spoken, the cold air had infiltrated her lungs, sucking the warmth from inside. She shivered and quickened her pace. What she wouldn't give to be snuggled away in a cabin somewhere, sipping cocoa, her small feet propped in front of a blazing fire. Although her apartment did have heating, it was always cold. Not the temperature, just the rooms. The first words that popped into her mind when she had been shown the rooms she was considering renting were "space age". Everything was glass, box shaped, and in neutral colors. But the appliances had been updated, the walls already covered in expensive works, and the style just fulfilled her dream of living somewhere she pictured an accomplished, successful woman would live. She had rented the flat.

After living in the flat for close to a year, Maya's taste had changed. She grew to realize that after a long day of work, she wanted a sanctum, a hideaway to run to where she could gather her thoughts, relax, pause for a few moments in her busy day, catch her breath. But her flat did not welcome her. The floors were cold, the rooms echoed, and the open concept floor plan made her feel even smaller. Her view of the sky was obstructed by other buildings cornering her flat's window, closing in on her. She could see down into the streets, this she enjoyed, especially loving the people-watching opportunities, but by the time she arrived home, it was too late and too dark usually to people-watch, or even to paint something from her window. She missed the bay window. She missed her cozy room from when she was a teenager. She missed her mom who had moved to New Jersey when Maya had gone to college.

"I should call her." Maya mumbled as she turned down another street. "She probably thinks I've fallen off the face of the earth." Maya had meant to call her mom a few days ago, but she had a knack for being very forgetful. She was seriously considering hiring her secretary at the office full time. Her phone began to ring. She grumbled about never getting a breath of clean air and rummaged in her cluttered purse for her iPhone that had been a gift from her dad that he had sent two Christmases ago. While searching for the phone, she found a receipt that she had yet to record in her check book. She crammed it back down into her purse, putting it off yet again, and answered her phone.

"Hello?"

"Where are you?" Riley's voice crackled in concern through the phone.

"What do you mean?" Maya asked. "I'm a block from home. Where are you?"

"At home, setting the table. For our dinner." Riley's voice dripped with disapproval. Maya's shoes scuffed lightly on the pavement as she halted.

"Riley I'm so sorry! I completely forgot!" she cried. She had just remembered that tonight she had scheduled dinner with Riley and Farkle. She had even put it in her calendar. Why hadn't her phone reminded her?

"I expected you had." Riley's voice grew soft again, her usual, forgiving self shining through. "I'm keeping the food in the oven, it won't get cold. I called to make sure nothing bad had happened."

"I'm just fine." Maya promised, her heart still full of regret. She couldn't even remember dates with her best friend anymore.

"Farkle should be home in five minutes, then when you get here we can eat and then maybe watch a movie or something. Unless you can't stay for long." She offered.

"I can stay for a while." Maya promised, ignoring the fact that she knew tomorrow would be a long day and she probably needed a lot of sleep. Oh well. She would just get an extra shot in her coffee tomorrow morning and sneak an energy drink in during her lunch hour, even though her boss thought energy drinks were unprofessional.

"Great. See you here then." Riley's chipper voice finished and the call ended. Maya dropped her phone promptly back into its designated pocket that it should have been in the first place. At least she would know it was there for next time. Unless she forgot it was in the pocket and searched the whole purse again. Thinking about it, she decided that's exactly what might happen, but decided to just leave it alone. She was overthinking everything. She looked around the almost empty street, a few people getting into their cars, a few hurrying into their flats, a handful out strolling. She had to decide whether to stop home first or turn around and go straight to Riley's. She decided that she was already late and that she might as well go put on a heavier coat and grab a loaf of bread from her flat as a peace offering for Riley. She hurried down the street, into her building and into the elevators.

00000000000000000000000

By the time Maya was back on the streets, it was clearly dusk. The sun had almost completely set and the streetlights had just turned on. She reached the nearest subway stop and briskly jounced down the stairs, feeling much lighter having left her messenger bag at home. By the time she had scanned her pass and was waiting at her stop, the after-work rush had already passed, leaving only a few people waiting with her. She looked at the screen showing train times and huffed in frustration when she saw that the nearest one was still ten minutes away.

"Where are you off to?" a lady that looked to be in her late forties asked Maya. She looked up, startled out of her thoughts. Maya was not a very warm person, and spending the last three years out of high school alone had not made her any more personable.

"Just dinner with my friends." She mumbled.

"Hope your kids aren't missing you." The lady smiled. Maya cringed inwardly.

"I don't have kids."

"Oh?" the lady looked surprised.

"I'm only twenty-one." Maya explained.

"Ah," the lady slowly nodded, "a working woman. I remember those days."

"You have kids now?" Maya asked, trying not to be too inconsiderate. The lady was obviously lonely tonight.

"Indeed, got four." She nodded. "One of my girls is in college, about your age, but the other three are still at home and I'm late to make dinner for them."

"Yeah, my friends probably aren't too happy with me for being late for dinner." Maya said, then wondered why she was still trying to make conversation. "Nice talking to you." Maya waved and made a quick escape and over to a bench on the other side of the platform to sit. The bench was cold like everything else and she was soon shivering again, even in her heavy coat. But she wasn't unhappy with the cold. It was cold because she was in New York and she loved New York. No place she'd rather be. At least her life was right in that sense.

"Stop." She mentally scolded herself. "Your life is just fine. Good job, good flat, not needy or dependent. You're fine." Out of the corner of her eye, Maya saw a shorter man walking up to her, his hands held out slightly.

"Any money, ma'am?" he asked quietly, head bowed. Maya slipped a few pieces of change from her pockets and gave them to the man.

"Take care." She nodded slightly to him and watched him shuffle away. She shut her mind off from thinking about that man's life. Nothing she could do about it. She just gave him money. She shouldn't feel bad. But where was the train? Riley was going to be so put out. Dinner would be freezing if the train didn't hurry up. They might just need to order out for pizza, even though Riley wasn't a huge fan of anything with tomato sauce.

"What's going on?" a frightened voice cried out, then small screams and yelps followed. Maya's head darted up and she looked around. What was going on now? Things happened in New York. She wasn't alarmed by unusual things. She'd seen just about everything. But when she saw the lady she had been talking to just a few short moments ago, cowering in front of gun pointed directly at her, Maya's heart rate accelerated.

"Please don't shoot!" the woman cried. "Please!"

"Shut up!" the gunman's face was covered in a ski mask. Original, Maya scoffed to herself, even though she knew she was getting frightened. "Anyone moves and I shoot." The man threatened. Maya didn't dare get off her bench. She thought about calling 911, but thought better of it. Reaching for her phone counted as moving. If this man wanted money, he could get it and get out, no harm done. She should just wait.

"You!" the man pointed the gun at the homeless man Maya had talked to moments before. "And you." He trained the gun back on the lady. "Over against that wall." He gestured for them to move. They hurried over to the wall opposite the tracks. The man turned and gesture two other citizens over to the wall as well, one a man in a business suit, the other a man in jeans and sneakers. Then he trained the gun on Maya. "Pretty girl, move!" he shouted, his booming voice echoing off the walls. She collected her purse and hurried to join the other, squeezing next to the woman, not even caring that the lady had two tears sliding down her face. The woman took Maya's hand and squeezed it encouragingly. The man looked around with quick and choppy movements, scanning the platform for anyone else. Satisfied that he had everyone, he looked back to the group gathered along the wall.

"You don't need to do this." The man in the suit spoke up suddenly.

"You don't understand." The gunman growled. "Just stay quiet and don't move."

"I'll give you what you've come for." The man in the suit offered. The gunman's head jerked up when the man said that. "That's why you're here."

Maya tried not to think. She tried to ignore the woman crying next to her, tried to ignore the stench of fear strangling her down in the dank, cold platform. Where was everyone? Where was help? Where was that train? Didn't anyone hear the commotion? What did this man want? And what did the man in the suit know? Would she make it out alive? So many unanswered questions attacked her mind. Before the man in the suit could speak again, the gunman wheeled on the homeless man and fired. The lady next to Maya screamed. Maya clamped her eyes shut and tried to press farther back against the wall. She heard the gun go off again and she knew the man in the jeans was shot.

"Stop screaming." The gunman turned to the lady next to Maya. Then the gunman looked at Maya. Their eyes locked for the briefest second and Maya stared him down. But he looked away before Maya could dare him to shoot her next.

"Take whatever you want and leave!" the woman pleaded. A loud pop and the woman fell to the floor. Maya screamed, blood splattering her coat and purse. Maya took the opportunity to throw her purse away from her so that if the man wanted money, he could take it. But he barely even noticed the bag.

"The Boss always gets what he wants." The gunman turned back to the man in the suit. The man looked over to Maya and looked at her, concern and pain written across his face.

"Let the girl go." The businessman pleaded for Maya.

"No witnesses!" the shooter cried and with that he turned and fired at her. Maya screamed and threw herself on the ground, the bullet whizzing past her. She felt a searing pain in her left shoulder, but she was alive. But she stayed motionless on the ground, listening.

"She was just a girl." The businessman's voice was choking up. They thought she was dead. "That wasn't necessary." Maya heard sirens off in the distance. Were they coming here?

"No second chances." The shooter announced and then he fired the gun again and Maya heard the businessman's body hit the ground. Then the gun fired once more and she heard the gun clatter across the floor. She dared herself to lift her head and look through her matted and bloody hair. She saw the gunman lying a few feet away, and his gun a few feet from him. Was he dead? The room was spinning, visions of the scattered bodies making her feel sick. She hoped she was in a nightmare. She prayed to God that this was a dream, even though she hardly ever prayed. She was desperate. The cool concrete felt good on her cheek as she laid her head back down. Where was she bleeding? Did it matter? She wished she could've said something kinder to Riley on the phone. She wished she had called her mother. Was she in shock? She had expected getting shot to hurt a lot more. Maybe she was dying. She closed her eyes delicately, promising herself that she was only resting until help came.