Nightmares

My Mind Won't Go To Sleep

I've been on the streets officially one week. The first day was rough, but I managed to stay somewhat safe. I just walked around and people saw it as normal. I got away with sleeping against some bookshop, it was cold though and the ground was covered in snow but it was a nice little tuck away. The manager made me leave the next morning so it's not like it mattered much. 

The second day, I had found myself a nice little bench in a park I didn't know existed. It was kind of pretty actually, I would've loved to go there with Remington and just draw all day. But I didn't have anything to draw with and I was alone, so I stayed there, doing nothing but trying to stay warm all day and praying. There was a gas station near here, a 7/11, and I used the bathroom there. A bit of a walk, down the street a little, but that's okay. I was just grateful that I had a place to use the bathroom. 

On the fifth day, I started coughing and sneezing. I was always cold, I thought I was surely dying. I had just the white shirt and black slacks, once clean now dirtied. I had socks and shoes, thank God, but nothing else. And it was still December. For some reason, my mind wouldn't drift away from the cold which was strange for me because I'd been trained to be unbothered by it. Put it out of your mind and focus on something warm, but my mind refused to focus on warmth right now. It was just cold. 

The sixth day, the final day of December, is when the trouble began. A group of four guys and two girls came up to me and one of the guys dragged me off my bench before they all began kicking me. One of the girls was standing back and watching though, it might've been the heals she wore or maybe it was the dress that hugged her knees tightly, but she hung back. The other girl was wearing black boots and baggy pants though, and all of the guys dressed similar to her.

One guy asked if I had money to which I said no, but they patted me down anyway and quite frankly I let them because I had nothing and also I was too cold and in pain to move. The guy checking me down had short blonde hair and a beard, and he swore when he found that I had in fact, no money. 

Then he groped me and I tried to flinch away, but he just chuckled as he retracted his hand before standing up and signalling for the group to leave. The six of them had then walked away, and I haven't seen them since. 

Today, on day seven, I decided to move. I didn't want to stay here at the park but I couldn't move last night. So I took the opportunity now, and pushed myself up to my feet. I groaned, I probably looked awful. I had blood from my mouth smeared on the back of my hand and I was probably bruised. Not to forget being constantly flushed from how FUCKING COLD it is. I couldn't feel my fingers anymore as I hobbled along with the wind ripping through my thin clothes and had resorted to sticking them in my mouth for warmth. 

I staggered down the sidewalk along the street, leaving tacks in the snow. Eventually, I came across a nice little alleyway, dark and seemingly empty. It belonged to some building with bright neon signs on it and letters that I was too tired to read and what looked like a hotel, or motel. Did I mention I was tired? And cold? 

So I pushed my feet forward until my legs collapsed under me and my head began spinning as I sat in the snow. I hadn't eaten anything since the night before my father had kicked me out and I took a painful beating just yesterday. My body most likely hated me. I was only right at the entrance of the alley, still in view of anyone passing by, but I couldn't move any further. 

My spine decided it didn't want to support me anymore and I fell completely over, my face landing in numbing snow. Fuck, it was like a thousand little needles poking at my skin but they were the temperature of ice cubes. My eyes drifted shut and blackness surrounded me. A high ringing sound pierced my ears and I was out.