I woke up in the dark sitting in what felt like a tub. It was really cold, and my side hurt. I tried to stand up but it felt like I was standing on ball-bearings. Finally I tripped out and wandered away. Feeling my way to a wall I found a light-switch. I flicked it on and immediately squeezed my eyes shut, as the light rushed into my dilated eyes, trying to burn its way through my skull. Finally I opened my eyes to find myself in the middle of a room. It was big and gray. My earlier suspicions were confirmed when I saw a tub in the middle of the room filled with not ball-bearings, but ice cubes. I saw that on a table near the tub were my clothes, I suddenly realized I was naked, and the room did not well keep out the mid-December chill. I rushed over, but as I arrived and started to pull on my underwear, I noticed that there was a massive scar down my side. I stopped dead, just staring.
What the hell happened last night? I thought to myself. I pulled on my jeans as I tried to figure out what I remembered. The last thing I remembered was walking home from my girlfriend, Sophie White’s place, dejected.
“Brendan Newhart,” she had shouted at me from the top of the stairs “don’t you ever show your face around here you son-of-a-bitch!” That was the gist of how the entire night had gone. Going over for dinner everything had started out fine, but then we got onto the issue of Maria, a girl who I didn’t even like, but was obsessed with me. Jane started shouting, and then I started shouting. Finally I left, going out into the freezing night. A little down the road to the bus stop there had been a man, he had asked me for a light, then it all went blank.
That man must be involved with what happened to me.
At this point I got on all my clothes, but after rooting through the pockets I could not find my phone, music player, wallet or knife. I figured that these were probably taken by whoever had kidnapped me, and that I would get it all back when the police found whoever had done this, so I left it at that. Finally I walked over to the door, and tried the handle. To my great surprise it opened, letting me out into a long hallway with no lights. I ran out and into the street, it was drizzling, cold too. I hugged my leather jacket closer against my body, and tried to stay warm. It was dark out, and the street looked mostly deserted. Still, in this city it never hurts to be cautious, so I ran. When it’s dark, cold, and the only company you have is the slapping of your footsteps on the pavement, it’s hard not to get scared. So I ran faster, past broken doors and walled off windows; faster, always faster, past empty lots and looming doorsteps, across battered manholes and cracked pavement. I knew parts of the city well, but I didn’t know where I was, where I was headed, or even where I was coming from. Finally, about six blocks down from where I started running, I stopped, forcing myself to sit on a bench beneath an orange glowlight. The rain had stopped, leaving pools of water sitting in the cracked pavement, reflecting the sick neon glowlight’s reflection. I sat and thought, tried to figure out the whole situation.
I don’t know where I am. I don't know how to get home. I have no money and no phone.
After mulling these problems over I decided to sleep on the bench for the night. So I lay my head down, and shut my eyes, trying not to think about anything.
It must have been about five in the morning. Two local hoods who were out doing god-knows-what decide to come investigate the sleeping form on the bench. They stood over me, and the one shook me awake while the other lit his cigarette.
“Hey, wake up sleepyhead,” The first one said to me.
I immediately opened my eyes to see the image of the druggie-hood parents shield their children from staring down at me. He had huge, staring, bloodshot eyes, the type that come from using too much Jenk, the most popular drug of the moment. He had his hood down, so ragged brown hair that was falling out in patches stuck up from his skull. Most of his face was sunken in, outlining the skull, and looking like a Halloween skeleton when he smiled. I knew that under his hooded, grease-stained sweater the flesh around his body had sunken, leaving bones to jut from hollow skin, skin that became yellower and yellower with each hit, skin that clung to muscles and sinew, whatever the drug hadn’t eaten away yet. I could see that these fellows were far gone, they had maybe a month live, each. They were running out of time, which made them desperate, which made them dangerous.
“Good morning, sirs,” I tried for openers in my most diplomatic tone of voice.
“Oh, is that how it is? Good morning sirs,” The other one said to me. This one had the disease even worse, some of the skin had started to eat away.
“We don’t want none of that,” The first one said, hauling me upright and looking into my eyes, “we just want your money. If you won’t give us that, we take your life. Alright?”
“Look, I haven’t got any money, I was just mugged. If you want my jacket, though, it’s real leather, it could be worth quite a bit.”
“Nah, we don’t want none of your raggedy-ass jacket, we want money!”
“I assure you I haven’t got any…” I tried to explain. However it was cut short by second one grabbing me by the lapel and punching me in the stomach. I had been hit in the chest before, and this time it hurt a lot more. I slipped to the ground and felt my gut, there was a sticky, wet, substance coming through my shirt, I looked at my fingers, they were red. It was blood, my blood, I was bleeding. Before I could register this fully one of the junkies kicked me in the face. As I lay on the asphalt bleeding from my mouth and stomach, one of the junkies sat on my chest and pulled out his knife.
“Now, I will ask one last time before I slit your goddamn throat, where. Is! YOUR! MONEY?” I groaned, as this was about all I was able to do at that point. Luckily enough, I was saved from an untimely death by the arrival of the police. I heard the siren from a block away, heard the engine roar and the brakes whine. Before the police could arrive to arrest them the two junkies looked at each other.
“Ah, shit,” The first one exclaimed, “The cops, we gotta run, mate.”
I felt a great pressure off my chest and saw the two run away. At the same time I heard car doors slam and a voice shout “Put up your hands!” After this several rounds were fired, but nothing seemed to happen. As one of the cops took off, the other ran over to me, as I shut my eyes I could see that she had light brown hair, and I remembered that I loved that color.
What the hell happened last night? I thought to myself. I pulled on my jeans as I tried to figure out what I remembered. The last thing I remembered was walking home from my girlfriend, Sophie White’s place, dejected.
“Brendan Newhart,” she had shouted at me from the top of the stairs “don’t you ever show your face around here you son-of-a-bitch!” That was the gist of how the entire night had gone. Going over for dinner everything had started out fine, but then we got onto the issue of Maria, a girl who I didn’t even like, but was obsessed with me. Jane started shouting, and then I started shouting. Finally I left, going out into the freezing night. A little down the road to the bus stop there had been a man, he had asked me for a light, then it all went blank.
That man must be involved with what happened to me.
At this point I got on all my clothes, but after rooting through the pockets I could not find my phone, music player, wallet or knife. I figured that these were probably taken by whoever had kidnapped me, and that I would get it all back when the police found whoever had done this, so I left it at that. Finally I walked over to the door, and tried the handle. To my great surprise it opened, letting me out into a long hallway with no lights. I ran out and into the street, it was drizzling, cold too. I hugged my leather jacket closer against my body, and tried to stay warm. It was dark out, and the street looked mostly deserted. Still, in this city it never hurts to be cautious, so I ran. When it’s dark, cold, and the only company you have is the slapping of your footsteps on the pavement, it’s hard not to get scared. So I ran faster, past broken doors and walled off windows; faster, always faster, past empty lots and looming doorsteps, across battered manholes and cracked pavement. I knew parts of the city well, but I didn’t know where I was, where I was headed, or even where I was coming from. Finally, about six blocks down from where I started running, I stopped, forcing myself to sit on a bench beneath an orange glowlight. The rain had stopped, leaving pools of water sitting in the cracked pavement, reflecting the sick neon glowlight’s reflection. I sat and thought, tried to figure out the whole situation.
I don’t know where I am. I don't know how to get home. I have no money and no phone.
After mulling these problems over I decided to sleep on the bench for the night. So I lay my head down, and shut my eyes, trying not to think about anything.
It must have been about five in the morning. Two local hoods who were out doing god-knows-what decide to come investigate the sleeping form on the bench. They stood over me, and the one shook me awake while the other lit his cigarette.
“Hey, wake up sleepyhead,” The first one said to me.
I immediately opened my eyes to see the image of the druggie-hood parents shield their children from staring down at me. He had huge, staring, bloodshot eyes, the type that come from using too much Jenk, the most popular drug of the moment. He had his hood down, so ragged brown hair that was falling out in patches stuck up from his skull. Most of his face was sunken in, outlining the skull, and looking like a Halloween skeleton when he smiled. I knew that under his hooded, grease-stained sweater the flesh around his body had sunken, leaving bones to jut from hollow skin, skin that became yellower and yellower with each hit, skin that clung to muscles and sinew, whatever the drug hadn’t eaten away yet. I could see that these fellows were far gone, they had maybe a month live, each. They were running out of time, which made them desperate, which made them dangerous.
“Good morning, sirs,” I tried for openers in my most diplomatic tone of voice.
“Oh, is that how it is? Good morning sirs,” The other one said to me. This one had the disease even worse, some of the skin had started to eat away.
“We don’t want none of that,” The first one said, hauling me upright and looking into my eyes, “we just want your money. If you won’t give us that, we take your life. Alright?”
“Look, I haven’t got any money, I was just mugged. If you want my jacket, though, it’s real leather, it could be worth quite a bit.”
“Nah, we don’t want none of your raggedy-ass jacket, we want money!”
“I assure you I haven’t got any…” I tried to explain. However it was cut short by second one grabbing me by the lapel and punching me in the stomach. I had been hit in the chest before, and this time it hurt a lot more. I slipped to the ground and felt my gut, there was a sticky, wet, substance coming through my shirt, I looked at my fingers, they were red. It was blood, my blood, I was bleeding. Before I could register this fully one of the junkies kicked me in the face. As I lay on the asphalt bleeding from my mouth and stomach, one of the junkies sat on my chest and pulled out his knife.
“Now, I will ask one last time before I slit your goddamn throat, where. Is! YOUR! MONEY?” I groaned, as this was about all I was able to do at that point. Luckily enough, I was saved from an untimely death by the arrival of the police. I heard the siren from a block away, heard the engine roar and the brakes whine. Before the police could arrive to arrest them the two junkies looked at each other.
“Ah, shit,” The first one exclaimed, “The cops, we gotta run, mate.”
I felt a great pressure off my chest and saw the two run away. At the same time I heard car doors slam and a voice shout “Put up your hands!” After this several rounds were fired, but nothing seemed to happen. As one of the cops took off, the other ran over to me, as I shut my eyes I could see that she had light brown hair, and I remembered that I loved that color.
