Below is the opening scene for my WIP. I have gone over this scene the most as I revise my work.
For the second time in three days, Celeste Murphy pretended the plaster pieces that fell on her face as she tried to sleep were snowflakes. This time, inaudible shouts accompanied the stomping. The intrusion on her ears and face took her from a snow-filled dreamland to reality.
Two squeaks came from the bed as she sat up; only one squeak yesterday. The squeaks, shouts and stomps made her head swell as she reached for her cigarettes.
A mouse darted across the bedroom floor from under the bed and Celeste yanked her feet up. She wondered if the squeaks were from the mattress itself or if the mouse had slept in the mattress at night along with her. Her gag reflex kicked in as she pushed away thoughts of sleeping with mice.
She grabbed the pair of socks off the foot of the bed, put them on and stood up. The blinds were up on the windows, which meant she came home DBR last night. She blurted out “DBR” one night at work and after she explained it meant, “drunk beyond repair.” Everyone thought she was a genius. She guessed it was her “catch phrase” although she thought it was damn lame.
She flipped the light on when she entered the kitchen. Cockroaches scattered and for a moment, she thought about cleaning the kitchen, but there were better things to do. She rummaged in the bottom cabinet until she found a little pot and put water on for coffee. Her favorite coffee mug was in the sink filled with a filmy liquid. There was a foam cup on the table in the other room from two days ago. She sighed as she grabbed it, rinsed it out and finished making her coffee.
The stomps upstairs had followed her into the kitchen. She grabbed the dust-covered broom wedged between the wall and the refrigerator and banged the ceiling.
“Just kill each other already,” she yelled as she banged the broom into the ceiling, and threw it on the floor.
Celeste opened the window to light rain as she sat in the chair next to the window with her instant coffee and morning cigarette. The empty stand remained in the corner, which was once home to a television until last week when Celeste had come home drunk and knocked it over.
She needed a Valium or Percocet. Her head hurt like hell and she had work again tonight. Normally, she would not work back-to-back nights, but her habit was getting expensive. Her purse was on the other chair. She didn’t remember putting it there and rolled her eyes as she stuck her foot under the strap and brought it toward her.
After she got her head together, she went through her afternoon routine of ignoring the dirty dishes, counting her money from the night before and rummaging through her purse to see how many pills and bags of cocaine she had to get her by until she could get more.
After she dressed, she stumbled out of her apartment door into the smell of piss and body odor in the hallway. She slammed the door while she held her breath. No way in hell could she hold her breath long enough to wait for the elevator today.
She counted the steps in her head as she descended; thirty not including the landings. Counting helped her forget she held her breath as she went down the steps. She exhaled when she got to the front door.
Her smile went flat when she saw the large figure at the bottom of the steps outside.