New York 5

Another sleepless night. I keep thinking about what has happened in the last week. And whats going to happen.
I trudge over to the dusty cardboard box. I scavange through it like a wild animal, searching for something, anything at all that would lead me to where this lone box came from. Why is it here? What is it? Who's is it?
So many questions whirling around in my overloaded and exhausted mind.
I picked up the tape|cassette or whatever is it and smoothed my finger over the roughly carved initials. M.J. Mark Johnson. The man who broke my heart and bank account and left me to pick up the pieces. The man who turned out to be a crazed psychotic human being. If that is what he really is..........

I have to get out of this flat. Go somewhere, explore the modern jungle known as the Big Apple. That is what I came here for. Plus, I haven't even got myself a job yet!

I stroll into my ugly bedroom and swing open the wardrobe doors with such force one actually falls off it's hinges. OK, need a new wardrobe. I scan over my plain clothes. I throw on my good pair of Levi's, an aqua coloured Abercrombie and Fitch t-shirt and the classic jet black leather jacket. Do my hair and makeup and I'm ready. As I'm walking out the door I glance quickly in the mirror. The reflection staring back at me has bags under her eyes, drained looking, pale. skin and a tired posture. I straighten myself up and walk out the door. Only to find one, solitary jigsaw piece at my doorstep. I pick it up and turn it over. Blank. Except for two tiny initials carved into the back. M.J.

No way. Its just a coincidence Susie, I tell myself. Pull yourself together. Your imagining things or are you? ...........

To be continued by @redfae!