The Last Piece

1) Lost

Home? What a joke. Home is supposed to be a warm place, a place where family was. Yes, home has a different meaning to everyone. To some it's a place to hang out. Maybe even it's their best friend's place, or the college dorm with your roommate. Home could be a person, a pet. When people think of home they think of a feeling, a sound, a smell.

Unfortunately for some, home is lost. Family dies, money is lost, drugs are found. In this part of town, it's normal. The word 'home' becomes foreign on the tongue, and that warm feeling in your chest is gone. Soon it is replaced by coldness and a stale feeling. Your home is only a house now.
—
Looking up at the tall apartment building a chill ran down his spine. Ivy was growing all up alongside of the run-down place and the snow blinded him as the sun reflected on it. Three-hundred dollars a month for this run-down place. Not even someone in their right mind would pay a hundred dollars a month. Running up the cracked and worn-down stairs, he could feel the concrete grinding under his feet. Maybe it didn't help that his shoes were about shot, there are small holes in the bottom of the soles which causes blisters to form often.

Cody pushed open the heavy door and winced when a screeching noise echoed. He would never get used to that, even though had been about a year since he moved in.

It was now in the middle of November and the frigid cold was not Cody's favorite. His slender pale fingers moved to the back of the door that was painted gray, the chips in the paint revealed the previous pain, white. The wallpaper was peeling back from the walls and water marks ran down. It was a nasty and distasteful sight to walk into at first, but soon enough it became normal.

Walking up the stairs of the ghastly building he had such an anxious feeling. Sometimes Cody felt like people were watching him from the other-side of their door, especially that crazy woman who lives down and across from Cody. Ms. Troup, she has wild dark brown eyes and gray hair that is always a mess. She is always wearing the same clothing which makes her smell strange.

Cody shook away the thought of her and proceeded to his front door. Pulled out his keys and opened the door to his living space,"I'm home," the blonde said as he walked into the studio apartment. His voice bounced off the walls and through the empty apartment.

Pushing open the heavy door Cody began walking through the bland hallway. Letting his messenger bag fall behind him and drag on the stained hardwood floor. There was an old twin-sized mattress on the ground with a green blanket. Throwing his bag on the bed Cody pushed back his hair letting his green eyes scan the lonely room. Then slipping off his heavy jacket Cody's body began to process that it was freezing, and it wasn't from just being outside. Too bad there was nothing in there but the hundred-year-old heater.
Picking up his foot Cody slammed it against the old rusty thing that he so dearly relied on to warm the damp place. After a few more hits it then hummed to life which was a nice surprise.

He lifted his hand to drag on the rough wall. Cody walked into the bathroom where he was greeted by an old stained bathtub and a toilet that always has water running. He walked over to the mirror and stared at his reflection with an empty gaze. He had deep-set, steal-blue eyes, they looked emotionless. At times he found if he looked too long at himself he would fall into an abyss, his face would start to become shapes and unrecognizable. His pale hair fell down to his thin rounded shoulders. Reaching up he gently pulled at the ends. His eyes trailed over to the far corner of the bathroom only to see a roach run up the wall.

Disgusting.

He walked out of the bathroom and dropped down onto the stained mattress. Reaching his hand up he began picking at the drywall. It was slowly chipping away, and whenever the people above him had a party all the jumping around didn't help.

Just as he thought maybe he would take a nap his stomach began to growl. When was the last time I ate? He thought to himself. It's not like there was anything to cook. Even if there was, he had no appliances. He told them all for money that he wasted in his arm.

Closing his eyes darkness soon took over his body, rest is what he needed. Yet rest isn't what he would get.

—
A sweet voice called from down-stairs as the smell of pot roast made its way to his nose.

"Cody, dinner!"

Smiling, the young boy sat down the comic book he was reading to rush into the dining room. Not taking the time to look at the pictures hung down the side of the hallway, he just took it all for granted.

"It smells great, Mom."

Cody set down his favourite stuffed animal on the table, only to earn a glare from the woman. Pouting Cody made his best puppy dog face. Which was retuned by a stern face. Slowly and very dramatically, the stuffed animal was pushed onto the floor.

"Rules are rules young man. Mr. Bear isn't allowed on the table during dinner."

Cody gave a sigh and turned to the bear that laid on the ground, "When I'm a grown up, you will be able to sit on the table whenever you want."

His mother laughed quietly and turned to start dishing out the meal. She suddenly began have a sharp pain in her chest and was unable to breath. She staggered her way to the phone and began to dial 911.

Cody watched his mother collapse onto the ground.

Fear running through his body Cody felt frozen. He wanted to scream and run to his mother but it felt like his body weight a million pounds.

"M- mom, this isn't funny!" He said softy, his face began to burn and hot tears ran down his cheeks.

—

Cody's tired eyes opened and a loud sigh left his mouth. When was the last time he had that dream? Being 7 years old he didn't understand that his mom was having a heart attack. He didn't understand why he was taken to an awful home with a bunch of other children.

Realising that he needed to get out of this place, Cody stood to his feet dusting himself off. The flickering light didn't help the feeling of the damp walls closing in. He pulled his bag from the bed. The emptiness of this house was going to kill him.
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