Street (Urban Fiction)

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Eight

I tried to hold on to the sleep as long as I could. It was a dreamless sleep, one I wouldn't mind having all the time. I tried to hold on to it, but once it's gone, it's gone. As soon as I opened my eyes, a white light blinded me. No, it wasn't heaven. I was sure I had a first class ticket to hell just from associating with Trey.

I blinked rapidly, trying to adjust to the light. I knew exactly where I was. If the beeping machines didn't give it away, then the strange mixture of anxiety and hope that hung in the air surely did. I brought my body up slowly and rolled my shoulders. My entire body felt stiff.

"Uh uh, go back to sleep. You still ugly."

I rolled my eyes and sighed. Trey's voice was not the first thing I wanted to hear after being out for God knows how long. I did some neck stretches, then continued on to my torso and limbs. "How long has it been?" I asked, turning to him. My voice sounded like I had a bunch of chronic smokers fighting for the last cigarette in my throat.

"It's been fifty-eleven day, um-teen hours," he sang.

"You're always playing," I said, shaking my head.

"It's been three days."

"Have you been here the entire time?"

I watched his eyebrows scrunch as his head jerked back. "Hell naw. That sound like some through sickness and health shit. I ain't marry yo ass. I only come when they 'bout to serve you food."

"How they gon' serve me food when I'm sleeping?"

"You woke up a coupla times...so I heard," he added in quickly. "I wasn't here to see that shit happen."

A smile played on the corner of my lips. He was so bad at acting like he didn't care.

"That nigga was here though, day and night." I followed his gaze to the figure that was leaned against the door frame.

His arms were crossed over his chest, and, though we could only see his profile, we could clearly tell he was sleeping.

"That man was a fuckin' soldier in his past life. Who the fuck just sleeps standing up like that?"

The scowl on his lips drew a chuckle out of me. His stubborn ass, even in his sleep he was mad.

"Hopefully he stays asleep for a while. He'll be pissed at me when he wakes up," I said after yawning.

I watched as Trey grabbed his Jansport back pack and stood up. He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it."I'm not that upset you're ok," he said after going through what seemed to be an internal battle.

I sighed and wondered if I was glad I was ok. "Remember when you told me life was like a stair case? I guess this is bottom."

He shook his head. "Naw. It's not. As long as I'm around, know if you ever even trip, I'll be there to catch you. Fuck! I gotta get out of this place. That was some sentimental ass shit, yo."

"Thanks," I replied, ignoring the last part of his sentence.

He stuck his middle finger up—causing me to roll my eyes—before making his way towards the door. On his way out, he bumped his shoulder into Chris and flashed me an evil grin before muttering, "Oh shit, my bad B."

Chris' eyes darted around the room in a panic. He was going through the confusion stage that came after being awoken from sleep abruptly. When his finally landed on me, his tense shoulders went slack as he sighed. He ran a hand down his face, then rubbed his eyes.

"Hey," he started as he took a couple of steps towards me.

"H-hey," I stammered. I cleared my throat and tried to find my voice, but like me, it was a coward.