Discovered

He was not afraid of the dark anymore. He had been for so many years, but recent events changed that. He could not be afraid of the dark. To survive, he had to keep to the shadows of the city. He had to be strong.

He was unsure of the time, but it could not have been too late. People were still roaming the streets and the side street traffic was heavy. He looked around at the various Christmas decoration. Lamppost after lamppost had wreaths and garlands. Houses and businesses were covered in Christmas lights. In front of City Hall, there was a mammoth Christmas tree, strewn with webbed lights, beautiful garlands, and sparkling bulbs.

A Santa Claus figure rang a bell in front of a small gift shop, asking for donations to a children's association. He remembered a time when he would have given a generous donation and smiled. He could not even spare a dime for the Santa Claus. He shook his head. It all seemed so long ago.

The many noises of the city filled his ears. The restless car horns, the endless gunshots, the pounding car stereos. He remembered when all of these things hurt his head, but now they were merely white noise--something in the background. At one point in his life, a crackling fireplace and hearty chatter of neighbors and family would have been wishing him happy holidays right about this time of year. It did not matter anymore. This was his home, now.

He walked down the sidewalk, stepping over the cracks, since bad luck was what got him in this whole predicament. Stepping over the cracks proved more and more difficult every step of the way. The sidewalk was old and worn with age. He continued walking, leaping over large holes in the walk every once in awhile.

He heard someone calling to someone, and he began to try to walk faster. It was most likely some sort of gang member, and he did not want to get mixed up with the sort. He picked up his pace, running faster and faster. It had been only last night that he had been brutalized by several gang members for simply walking by their street. He touched his lip, which was still cut and swollen from the night prior. He could only imagine what his eye looked like.

"Kid! With the scarf!"

He turned to see the culprit of the calling, but failed and walked faster.

Don't step on the cracks and maybe he won't catch you..., the voice in his head kept saying, Run faster!

"Please! Please come back!" the voice called.

He slowed down a little once he was on the main sidewalk, sure to stand under a streetlight so the person calling him would be less likely to harm him. He stood and waited as a dark-haired man in a long, black, wool jacket jogged toward him, hands in his jacket's pockets. The man was breathing heavy, his visible breath cascading into the darkness above.

"This is going to sound weird, but I just felt that I was supposed to meet you," the man said and held out his hand, "I'm Ronnie."

He slowly shook the man's hand as the man introduced himself, "I'm Max."

His voice was small and weak. He had almost forgotten how to speak amidst everything that had happened to him. Ronnie looked at the frail boy, a sad look etched onto his face. He found that he and Max were still holding hands. He didn't retract it, though. He didn't want to.

"What happened to you, if I may ask?" Ronnie said, sounding concerned, and pointed to Max's face with his free hand.

Max took his hand out of Ronnie's and covered his face.

"Nothing, nothing happened."

Ronnie stepped closer and shook his head, "Something happened."

He ran his fingers down the frail boy's bruised face, wondering who could hurt such a beautiful creature.

Max said nothing as Ronnie touched him, praying that he was not trying to trick him. Ronnie looked at Max in a way that showed he almost cared.

"Why don't you come home with me? You must be freezing."

Max's eyes widened and he backed away from Ronnie slowly. Ronnie started after him but Max bolted away, careless of whether he stepped on the cracks or not this time. All he wanted was to get away from Ronnie. Ronnie could not keep up with Max's speed no matter how hard he tried. Max had found an empty alleyway and retreated to it, eager to be alone.

The night swallowed him whole and he did not awake until he heard the sound of a car parking near his alley. He stood up and brushed himself off. He walked out of his alley and began walking down the busy streets.

The familiar sounds of the morning replaced the sounds of the darkness he had fallen asleep to. Traffic was heavy as people headed to their nine to five jobs. Girls and boys were walking the sidewalks to school, bags thrown over their shoulders. Dogs howled and barked noisily as their walkers took them to the park. Bells on the doors of small businesses rang as people entered. It was just another morning on the streets--just another morning Max would walk the streets, avoided or unnoticed. He was not sure which he would rather: the dirty looks or the people that acted as though he were invisible.

He weaved around people, searching for someplace that may have some sort of scraps of food. He knew the streets well, and which restaurants threw out the best food.

As he reached Captain Redbeard, a popular seafood restaurant, he began scanning his surroundings for food. It was more often than one would think that someone with a carry-out box would drop a breadstick or two.

He lingered near the eatery, waiting for someone. Then, he saw something green glinting in the light. It had fallen out of someone's pocket, and he realized it was a small chocolate. He ran towards it, lunging himself at the ground.

Then, a foot was in front of his face, and it stepped on the candy. He slowly stood up, silent tears running down his face as his stomach growled.

"Are you hungry?"

He looked up to see Ronnie, holding a carry-out box. Max backed up and tried to run, but Ronnie grabbed his shoulder. There was no threat in the touch. Max stared at Ronnie for a moment before accepting the carry-out box, eyeing it skeptically.

Max sat down on a bench nearby, followed by Ronnie. He ate the breadsticks and breaded shrimp in what seemed like seconds. He had not enjoyed a full meal in quite some time. Ronnie merely looked at him, sadly.

"How'd you find me again?" Max asked, quitely.

"I think it was one of those right place, right time things," Ronnie said and smiled, patting Max on the knee.

After a few moments of silence, Ronnie asked, "Where did you go last night?"

Max shrugged, "It's not important."

"But it is."

Max shook his head, ashamed to answer honestly.

Ronnie looked at him, not pressing for answers, sadness dancing in his dark eyes. Max looked up at him, realizing that he was no threat. He was not trying to trick him. He genuinely cared, as astonishing as it was. He only proved himself when he demanded something of Max that made the rest of their lives.

"Let me take care of you."