•◦இ•◦ Chapter 2 •◦இ•◦

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20 years ago


Alexander

"If you think you're gonna get away with it, you little punk, you got another thing comin'!" he shouted. "I'll find you, and this time, I'll kick your junkie ass."

Old John was chasing me again. I was just in the arms of his daughter, but now I was running with all my might to avoid his touch. He was beyond angry this time, and I knew if he caught me, things are going to get really rough for me.

I slipped in between two blocks of flats, leaped over the fence at the end, and sprinted away. The fat man couldn't catch up to me. I turned and gave him the middle finger, still running. After a while, I made sure no one was following me and I headed towards the apartment building that we had called home for about three years.

The buildings in the Bronx weren't exactly attractive, but it was still considered one of the poorest neighborhoods in New York. The white population here was much smaller compared to the African and Hispanic population. Nevertheless, the building we were in now was more tolerable than the others in the neighborhood.

Three years ago, we lived in Brooklyn, in a much more normal apartment building, with a more typical environment. Back then, our nameless wealthy father was paying Daniel and me child support. It wasn't enough that she had given birth to one bastard, but apparently she loved him so much that she decided to give him another - my brother, who is three years younger than me.

And so Maria-Loretta Brand lived peacefully with her two sons, who attended a regular school and were generally well-behaved children. Until the day when Daniel and I came home from school, only to find her lifeless body inside our house.

Then I had only one thought - we have to run. The social services will take us, they will separate us... I quickly packed the essentials into two backpacks along with all our documents. I gathered all the money I could find (which wasn't more than $300) and took Daniel's hand, who was in total shock, and he just followed me.

We hopped on a bus and made our way to the Bronx. I figured the social services wouldn't be as active here, especially in the outskirts. Daniel remained silent the whole time. I didn't have time to dwell on it, though. We needed to find a place to stay for the night. I left him with our meager belongings under a bridge and instructed him to wait there. He still didn't utter a word, just nodded, sat down, and stared blankly ahead.

I strolled around the neighborhood, searching for a place to settle. Then, three blocks down, a diner-cafe caught my eye. Its exterior looked much nicer than the rest of the drab street. As I stepped inside, the aroma of freshly baked goods filled my nostrils, making my stomach growl with hunger.

"Where are you from, son?" asked the African-American woman who was stacking trays behind the snack counter. She appeared to be in her forties, with black curls peeking out from under a colorful kerchief tied around her hair. She was plump, wore a floral apron, and had an unlit cigarette dangling from one end of her mouth. A gold cross glinted around her neck as she looked at me suspiciously.

"Why did you think I wasn't from around here, ma'am?"

"How could you not tell, boy? Take a look around, what part of the Bronx do you think you're in?" She said, eyeing me suspiciously. "You stick out like a sore thumb."

To be honest, I didn't even have the energy to laugh at her peculiar sense of humor at that moment. I made up my mind to be truthful and just started speaking: „We ran away from our home in Brooklyn... I found my mother dead, and I didn't want my brother and me to end up... in some orphanage and get separated. So, we took what little we had and came to the Bronx, hoping to find a safe place to stay..."

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