Chapter 81


    My heart sinks as that age-old knowing fear takes a grip of my throat and I know my apartment will see


    a second break in before sunrise. I am too tired for this.


    This city is full of people with no scruples, and I am an easy target, especially in this state. I don’t have


    the energy to fight off two teens, even with my baseball bat and mace, not while I’m sick and messed


    up and close to falling down with fatigue. I have no one around here that would intervene in any way


    and the sad fact is … I have nothing worthy of protecting except myself.


    I don’t hesitate. I shove everything I own into my two holdalls, not that I have much to pack, then pull on


    some sweatpants and trainers and a hoody over my lighter pyjamas. I’m not waiting around for a


    second assault in my own home, and as the ce already looks like Armageddon swept through, it’s


    not going to make much difference to me. They cane see for themselves it’s all gone and I won’t


    be here to be the second choice. I make for the door, weighed down with two bags and a steel grit of


    getting the heck out of dodge.


    Something in me pulls me back, and despite myself, I walk back to that darn couch and yank out the


    box and lift Mico’s card hurriedly. I stuff it into the open zip of the bag hanging on my shoulder before I


    exit the apartment and make my way outside onto the street.


    The teens watch me go. I walk fast, keep my head down, and avoid a couple more randoms up at this


    hour in the dank hallways as I get down the stairs to the ground floor and into the street. It’s dark, cold


    and misty from iing bad weather and the air around me smells like factory smoke and dirty air that


    hurts my already fragile throat. I pull up my hood to shield me from the biting elements and as I walk


    away I nce back and up at my second-floor windows. From outside, I can already see shadows


    across the window of my apartment as they check it out, snooping for remains of the spoils. I can’t


    believe the nerve of them but then again, it’s hardly a shock that this shit happens to me all the time.


    I swear I am cursed.


    Good luck boys, you won’t find anything of value and I won’t be back until I can find someone willing to


    help me fix my door.


    I walk the streets for an hour, dragging my limbs, shivering incessantly with a banging head and heavy


    body. I have no idea where I am going, other than trying to kill time until daylight is zing in the sky


    and the building I live in wakes up and fills with more than just night crawling psychos. I’ll feel safer


    going back when it’s morning and I can spend more time trying to get the door shut before I need to get


    ready for work at least. It’s only a couple of hours, maybe, before sunrise and I can handle street living


    until then. I mean, this was once my entire existence when I couldn’t find a ce to stay, and I was t


    out broke after getting to America. I have slept under bridges and all sorts. I am no stranger to being


    homeless; I just didn’t think I would still be doing it at my age. I had bigger ns than this.


    I have no doubt those boys will be snooping into everything in there for something worthwhile and I


    don’t care. I have all I want with me and will carry it wherever I go, not that it’s much. I sold everything


    of value and have only my basics now.


    They have musty old broken furniture and the pots and pans that were there when I moved in and not


    much else. I don’t cook in the apartment at all; eating at work or buying ready to eat cold dinners. The


    cooker stinks of gas when you switch it on and sometimes cuts out after only seconds to make a


    whistling sound. I never trusted it so never use it.


    It’s probably why I am always so tired and unwell; theck of decent, non-greasy hot meals and a


    varied diet. I have always been someone who needs a healthy diet to function well. It was one of the


    perks of living with Alexi—he was obsessive about health and good food. I miss his well-stocked


    refrigerator and the on-hand cook downstairs with her grilled cheese tes.


    I could murder a decent meal right now.


    I end up sitting on a bench in the park as the damp air clings to every part of me and worsens my runny


    nose; watching the trees in the wind and listening to the city noises all around me. Even at this hour, it


    never sleeps and it’s a constant thrum of noise echoing over the rustling leaves.


    I sit and look around at the semi-lit area, streemps not doing much for this shadowy part and sigh


    sombrely.


    I always feel so alone and this makes me feel more so.


    It’s early hours, cold and wet, inhospitable really, and I am sat with all that I own in two holdalls in a


    ce that isn’t the safest, with no one caring where I am or what happens to me. I am almost twenty-


    nine years old and I am invisible in the world. It’s pretty pitiful.


    Emotions take a nosedive as my cold bug takes over in the dark, cool air and I get a swimming head


    once more. Sniffing hard and coughing until my lungs burn and I can barely breathe. I shouldn’t be out


    here when I’m getting ill, but it’s better than sitting like a target waiting for the worst back there.


    I curl up small and slide to my side in a bid to keep some of my body heat and use my bags as a


    cushion, wrapping my arms around them to find somefort. It’s not thefiest of positions on a


    hard-wooden seat that’s barely deep enough for my bum, let alone my full body. I jump in fright when a


    man walks out of the nearby bushes and spies me with more than an interested nce, perking my


    head back up totch onto him on high alert; watching him suspiciously.


    He looks away and whistles, all dressed in dark and concealed by shadows, so I don’t get a good look


    at him.


    I don’t think he’s anything to worry about as his dog follows him from the same ce he appeared


    from, just an early morning walker while it’s still empty and quiet, but it puts me on edge and reminds


    me how exposed I am out here. How many potential dangers there may be if I fall asleep here.


    I’m tired, really exhausted, traces of concussion no doubt. I need to sleep but I have no other choice


    except to walk or wait until morning and I’m more likely to be able to deal with my door once the


    apartment’s empty. I sit back up in frustration, knowing only too well I will most likely pass out if I don’t


    try to keep myself awake.


    Published by N?v''elD/rama.Org.


    I rummage in my bag for my phone to use as a light and pull out my book. I may as well focus on


    something other than my sore face, crappy body and pitiful plight, and pull the tattered western from


    inside the messy contents. As long as the rain stays off until I can go home then this is just a waiting


    game.


    I illuminate my phone and groan when I realise it only has four percent battery and my torch will nuke


    that in minutes, heaving another sigh at what is typical of my fucking life. I still yank my book out


    anyway, in case I can see it enough until it brightens up, even though it immediately starts curling with


    the dampness saturating the air. I’m getting cold from my clothes slowly absorbing it and my cheeks


    are flushing with impending fever.


    My body was never good when it got damp and cold and I know by the time I head back I am probably


    going to be a lot sicker than this.


    It’s almost like someone is trying to tell me something when I open the book and Mico’s card drops out


    onto myp like he’s making his presence known. I just stare at it stunned, silent, bringing him to the


    forefront of my mind, and suddenly torn about what to do as I really pause to think this through with a


    less stubborn head. I know I scorned the thought of help back at my apartment, but it’s Mico, not Alexi.


    And now I am out here and really losing the will to live, the thought of a friendly face and five minutes of


    someone helping me out doesn’t seem so bad after all. It seems pretty god damn alluring. Especially


    with the dog creeper lurking nearby and making me uneasy.


    If I call him, what will the oue be?


    Would hee and help me with my door and then just walk away again and let me carry on?


    Is that even fair to ask him to help me and then to go away again?


    I could go home and go to bed. I could get my apartment secured.


    I don’t want a connection to Alexi, but I also don’t want to sit here alone for the next few hours, waiting


    for daylight. I know that the longer I sit here the worse it’s going to be for me in terms of my health, and


    I can’t afford to take days off work. As it is, I will only eat if I am at Joe’s now myplete savings are


    gone, including yesterday’s meagre tips.


    I don’t touch it, staring at the name on the card and my mind flits between Mico and the emzoned


    Carrero before me … Mico and Alexi. Family; theye as a pair.


    I just can’t.