“You’ve got to be shitting me.”

I looked down at the carpet, and I knew a faint flush would be staining my face. Though I wasn’t by any means fair-skinned, it was an unhealthy pale color from the lack of sunlight and it always showed my embarrassment. “Sorry,” I murmured, shifting on my couch.

“Sorry?” She crossed her arms, tapping her foot on the floor. “You called me here, saying it was an emergency, and you just wanted me to fetch your package? It was right outside the door! What were you thinking?”

I pulled my gaze back up to her, trying to make myself look apologetic. It should have been the least I could do. Elizabeth was a busy woman, an agent and editor too popular to bother going to one of her writers’ apartments at all times of the day and night. She had things to do. But, I was the one who made the most money- by a very long shot. Elizabeth made her living off Harriet Koffman, who happened to be a twenty-six-year-old male shut-in rather than the young, pretty girl they portrayed me to be through the pen name and author biography.

“Sorry,” I repeated, feeling a genuine twinge of regret that I put her through so much.

Elizabeth heaved a sigh. She understood, and even if she pretended to be mad at me, she never could get really angry. We’d known each other since I was just breaking into the writing world at seventeen. It was the perfect job for somebody who was terrified of being touched; I was mostly allowed to be a shut-in, only forced out of my seclusion on the rare nights I had book launch parties or awards to collect. And most of those times, we paid a pretty young thing to go for me to keep up the ‘attractive female image’.

“I’m starting to see why they’re trying to kick you out of the building.”

She must have thought I wouldn’t be able to hear the words muttered under her breath. But I heard them, loud and clear. I stiffened and stared at her with wide eyes, shocked at the implications of her words.

Elizabeth winced, dropping her eyes to the ground. She took my place shifting uncomfortably and trying to avoid the subject as I stared at her. I didn’t have to say a word; I knew my eyes were intense, the blue growing darker when I got upset, and they would sway her. They did their job, and she blurted out what I wanted to hear: “The other tenants have started a petition to have you thrown out and your apartment lent out to somebody else.”

My heart leapt into my throat, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to figure out what to say.

Seeing my struggle, Elizabeth babbled on. “I mean, you almost never come out of your apartment so a lot of people think somebody’s just using it as a storehouse and they don’t like that. And you’re not exactly the most innocent looking of men, so when you do come out and you freak and act like a caged animal ready to bite when anybody gets near you, you can sort of understand where they’re coming from and… and… I’m sorry.”

“But… they can’t actually k-kick me out, c-can they?” I stammered, my hands twisting in my lap.

Elizabeth looked down again, and I knew there was more bad news coming. “Unfortunately, they could. An expensive place like this has community rules, and you don’t follow any of them. You added locks to your doors, extensively modified several of the rooms, and you’ve never once attended the community events.”

“W-what can I do?” I asked. My heart was choking me, making my voice come out strained, and I was sure I was seconds away from crying.

Elizabeth sat on the couch next to me, far enough away that I would feel secure in the fact that there was no way she was going to touch me. “Take off the extra locks. There’s not much you can do about the renovations, so I’ll have to plead your case on that one. And… you’ll have to start going to the community events.”

“No way in hell!” I exclaimed, jumping out of the couch. My back found the wall, and my arms wrapped around my chest as I started to breath harder and faster. Just the thought of it, surrounded by people, close enough to touch me and soil me- it made my heart beat in my mouth, a second away from bursting loose and getting away from the horrid situation.

Elizabeth stood as well, recognizing the signs of an impending emotional breakdown. “I know you don’t want to. But if you want to stay here, you’re going to have to. If they kick you out, you’ll have to live somewhere you’ll have to interact with more people.” The pity drained out of her voice, and she looked at me with those hard eyes saying she was trying to make it impersonal. “You’re going to have to make up your mind. Suffer a few people, or have dozens touching you every day. It’s your decision. The next community event is dinner on Saturday. Be there, or I’ll assume you decided to leave and I’ll find you a new apartment.”

She didn’t say anything else; Elizabeth walked out my door without looking back. And it was a good thing she did, because as soon as she looked away I slid down the floor, my head between my knees and tears beginning to fall from my eyes. My breath hitched, and I clutched my head with my hands, unable to decide what would be worse: dealing with the other tenants, including that dark-haired thing that lived across the hall, or moving somewhere else where people would think I was even more of a freak than the ones who were trying to get me kicked out.

But it didn’t matter. Because either way, I was still going to end up a crying, shivering mess on my floor, just like always.