Dime a Dozen

Mother Nature chose then to snow: when I was face down in the white grass, chest heaving, and body hurting, wearing only bloody boxers.

Somehow I had come to my senses. The minute the greasy man let go of my wrists, thinking stupidly that he had me pinned and that I wasn’t going anywhere, I pulled away and ran. Actually, I’m not sure how I got away from him. Maybe the fact that he was incredibly drunk helped; his movements may have been too slow to grab me before I got away. All I know is that I ran faster than I ever had in my entire life, even faster than when Mrs. Branway’s Rottweiler chased me down the street when I was eight.

I was almost sure the man wasn’t finished yet.

So, I was shivering as the snow fell harder around and on me, curled up in the tightest ball I could muster, too tired to keep running. I was next to a sidewalk, looking out onto the icy street. It was lit up only by yellow-tinted street lights and the crescent shaped moon.

My hands and feet were already numb, but before everything else could, there were headlights glowing in the distance. Desperation surged through my body, giving me enough energy to lift my head and uncurl myself the slightest bit.

When it got closer I could see the car was actually a rusty truck, gliding effortlessly through the snow dusting and ice. It slowed to stop in front of me, without me needing to show I was there. There was movement in the truck, a door opened, shut, and tall man leaned down to pick me up. I flinched away.

“Hey, it’s alright. C’mon. You need to get warm.” He said, and wrapped one arm around my folded legs and the other around my freezing torso.

It was then that I got a good look at him. He had a smooth, young looking face with bright, sparkling blue eyes. The hair on the sides of his head was buzzed short, but on top, the blond locks were long enough to curl around each other.

His truck was warm. He laid me on my side on a towel, and as he did another spark of pain made tears well up in my eyes.

“Agh- it hurts.” I groaned, whimpering as he pulled a few blankets over my shaking body.

“I know,” was all he said as he climbed into the front seat. I didn’t ask him where he was taking me, or even worry about it. I shamelessly fell asleep.

“-ler, wake up. We’re here.”

I could have sworn he said my name, but I probably just imagined it. “We’re where?” I asked, groggily.

“The alley. Do you have any idea where the man threw your clothes?”

“The alley?” I whispered. “The man? When did I tell you about that?”

“You told me a few blocks ago.” His eyes stared into mine; brooding with the honesty he wanted me to see.

It was believable. It wouldn’t be the first time I had spoken in my sleep.

I told the man where I thought they were, rubbing my eyes and yawning. He went out to find them.

“Here,” he said, holding the clothes out to me. “Put them back on.”

I did, grimacing in pain.

“You can get in the passenger seat if you want. It’ll be warmer.” He told me, climbing back into the front seat after shutting my door. I managed to fumble out of the back seat and into the passenger seat, though my back ached in protest.

He asked me where I lived, and I told him the street he could drop me off on.

It’s really hard not to fall asleep with lovely heat blowing onto your face.

-

I woke up at noon, my body achy and cold. I didn’t feel like doing anything. All I wanted to do was sleep off my misery, and maybe take a “shower”, even though I’d be freezing afterwards.

I rolled over in my blankets, clenching my fists as hot angry tears rolled down my face. How could I stay there, knowing how unsafe the streets were at night? How could I be so careless?

I knew the answer. Greed. All I wanted was that money. I had gotten more in that alley than I usually got in a month’s time. But I would never go back. I couldn’t.

I was running, from what I didn’t know. I did know that it midnight and something would be starting soon, and I was going to be late if I didn’t get away from what I was running from.
I paced faster, huffing and puffing my way down the dirt road until I was suddenly on a busy, town street. People were everywhere, yelling, screaming in joy and happiness. I didn’t have a clue what was going on, but that was okay. I would use the immense crowds to hide from ‘the thing’.

Suddenly, people started screaming in terror, and running away from something, leaving me behind and alone. Towering over everything was a giant man, with greasy brown hair and a beer in his hand. He was bigger than the floats on the parade street and his head reached all the way into the, now, dark sky. Lighting flashed, thunder rumbles, as he said:

“Are you ready boy, are you ready?”

I closed my eyes.

I opened my eyes, sitting up roughly and panting. Beads of sweat from my forehead rolled onto my eyelashes and mixed with the tears that were already there. I gasped heavily, wiping my now freezing forehead and licking my dry lips.

Outside the boarded tree-house window, a storm raged on. I had no idea what time it was, but it was pitch black and wind whipped against the “door”. Like it was in my dream, lightning lit up what little sky I could see and thunder echoed inside my ears.

I curled up in my blankets, shuddering and cupping my hands around my ears. I wished for it all to stop.

And I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.