“Oh, I’ll give you something to smile about.” The guy tightens his grip, tugging me closer and then slamming me into the ground. He’s beside me in an instant, his knee pressed against my forearm, holding me in place. He fumbles around my pockets, then my back, finally finding what he’s looking for under my shirt. He rips the package from me and then stands abruptly, kicking me in the gut the moment he’s on both feet again.
I groan and clutch at my stomach, spitting out the blood that ran down my nose and into my mouth.
He sizes up the weight of the delivery in his palm, clearly guessing whether or not it’s all there. Tucking it up under his arm, he reaches into his jean pocket and pulls out an envelope, throwing it at me on the dirty ground. “Get out of here before you bleed all over my alley.”
I snatch my payment and my hat while still on the filthy pavement, then use my scuffed-up hands to prop myself up and rise to my feet. I don’t bother dusting myself off, not here at least, and not in front of him.
“Don’t be late again.” The guy punctuates his warning by hocking a wad of spit only inches away from my shoes and then goes inside, letting the door slam shut behind him.
I exhale and sag in relief that another job is done. I won’t relax until I’m home, and even then, it’s only a matter of time before Franklin has me doing more of his bitch work.
I need to be more careful. I shouldn’t have followed that girl tonight. If I left her alone, I would have probably made it here on time. I wouldn’t have been late, and this guy wouldn’t have potentially broken my nose. But even then, nothing is certain. He could have still been on some rampage to kick my ass. I haven’t been doing this shit long, but I’ve done it enough to know that unnecessary risks aren’t worth taking.
I shouldn’t bother myself with whether or not the girl is safe. It’s not my responsibility to save everyone, especially when I can’t save myself.
I rest my hand along the bridge of my nose and confirm my suspicions. I grip it firmly and snap it back into its normal place, hissing with the knife of pain that shoots through my head. I shove the envelope into my pocket and leave this place behind.
Once I’m away from the drop point, I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe as much of the blood off my face as possible. I don’t want to draw attention to myself, but my resources are limited. I hit my hat against my thigh to knock the dirt off and tug it onto my head.
My cheek throbs and has me pretty certain that the impact of this guy’s fist is going to leave a lasting impression. With the way he hit me, the impact spanned the side of my head, across to my nose. I’m honestly lucky though, otherwise, he might have knocked me out or done worse damage.
I start my second year of college in a few days, and I don’t exactly want to skip the first week because I’m hospitalized by some criminal. It’s bad enough that I’ll probably have a black eye.
I keep my head tucked low and avoid direct eye contact on my way back to the complex, only catching looks from a few people and making decent time. I sigh with relief when I punch the numbers into the gate and hear the familiar unlocking sound.
Nearly dragging myself through the courtyard and up the stairs, I finally make it to my door. I fumble in my pocket to locate the key. I slide it in and go inside the empty space, heading straight into my dim bathroom and collapsing onto the cold tile floor next to the toilet.
Closing my eyes, I let the weight of my body shift horizontally onto the rug near the vanity.
I stay this way only for a little while before I force myself to get up, to turn the water on and let it steam up the room. To take a shower and rinse the filth off my body. I go through the motions, taking the envelope out of my pants and putting tonight’s money with the rest of my stash. I do what I’ve programmed myself to do to get through these dark days. I compartmentalize this incredibly fucked-up life I’m living and focus on getting through another day. One that brings me closer to the end I’m trying to reach.
Once I’m sprawled out on top of my bed, my thoughts flit to the mystery girl, to whether or not she made it back safely. Or what she decided to order at Bram’s, and if she enjoyed it. I wonder if she sat in the corner and people-watched or chose a stool at the front. Maybe she got takeout and didn’t stay at all. It’s possible she changed her mind and went somewhere else the moment I walked away.
I shouldn’t let my attention wander to this complete stranger, but I do. It happens naturally and without effort.
And with that, I embrace the strange comfort it brings despite the war raging inside of me.