Hope For The Best
Where do we go when darkness surrounds us?
My body was tired, exhausted, as I limped around in the thick, heavy rain, waiting for my body to collapse. I wondered why my feet still carried me around, the left one quite injured after an incident near the bridge. I had been to tired to even see the dead-end in front of me, and as I fell down, I thought this was my last moment on Earth. But looking back, it felt quite silly, because it was only a few meters high from where I was standing. But when you're high, you tend to exaggerate every little thing.
Yes, I was high. Brink had introduced me to this wonderful stuff called cocaine. Made wonderful things happen to you. When you were on it, it made you forget everything. It sent you on a fast ride into space, taking you to the planet of pure bliss and serenity. It always worked. Every time I was on it, I didn't feel like a homeless piece of shit. On the contrary, it made me feel like I was the king of the world. And I felt I deserved that kind of thinking. Especially today. Why? Because today was my sixteenth birthday. And I felt like celebrating it in the only way I possibly could.
"What's going on?" I heard someone say, but my head felt too heavy to even oblige to the message my brain was trying to send. I felt the two hands holding me up against the wall let go and I was dropped down into the filthy mud.
"We found this little fucker stealing our food," one of the 'attackers' growled.
I felt another pair of arms reaching down to me and pulling me up.
"Oh shit, look at him? How old do you think he is?" a tough, female voice piped up, coming from my right.
I looked around, my vision still a little blurred as I did not have my glasses on, but I could make out the lines of another tall figure, standing in front of me.
"My glasses..." I mumbled, trying to reach down for them, but my sore stomach made it hard for me to do so. Someone reached down there for me and handed them over to me.
"Thanks," I whispered, barely audible.
"How long 'ave you been livin' on the streets?" the guy asked, looking like he was the 'leader'. Well, he did look like he was a lot smarter than those thugs who had pinned me up against the wall.
"Few months," I stuttered.
They laughed.
"A rookie, aye," someone said, and laughed.
"Look, kiddo, if you're gonna survive out 'ere, you better not try an' steal our stuff," the 'leader' of the gang said, a tone of threat clearly heard in his words.
"Okay... I won't steal your food," I said, sounding rather stupid but what else could I say? After this encounter I surely did not want to get on their bad side.
"We own this area, so ya betta not get in our way," a tall, slender looking boy, 15 years of age I guessed, leaning against the wall. The group contained five guys and just one girl, all looking to be from the age fifteen to seventeen.
"Can't I join you?" I mumbled, not daring to make eye-contact.
They laughed. Laughed at me.
"Ha, you wanna join us, boy?" Brink said, smirking ever so widely. "No shittin' way, just look at yourself," he added, laughing.
"Oh, come on, Brink, give 'im a chance, eh? He's so young," the girl said, pushing herself from the wall and walking over to me.
"Exactly, Mills," Brink said. "He's young, he won't do us any good."
"I'm not so sure about that," the girl, Mills, said, grinning. "How old are you?" Mills asked.
"Fourteen," I hesitantly answered.
"You look younger..."
"Fine," Brink said, glaring at Mills. "You can join the group, but you betta not bring us down if ya ever get caught."
"I won't," I replied.
Life's a bitch. There's no greater way to put it. It fucks you up. For some, life is great. No doubt about it, I must say. For others, life is great for the first twenty years of your life, but every single day from then on, it turns downhill. Not entirely downhill, more of a rollercoaster you can even call it. Up and down, up and down, up and down goes life.
Oh, dear God, I do sound a like a depressed young man. I'm just sick of how just shitty life is and that things never turn out the way they are supposed to. I mean, look at me, I'm turning sixteen tonight and all alone I wander in the cold rain, only waiting for my body to finally give in and collapse, not getting my hopes high about ever getting up again. Wait, what was that? My vision was starting to get a bit blurred, my legs going numb, possibly because of the ice cold September rain hitting my already cold legs. It felt like someone was stinging me with needles, all over my body. I staggered towards the nearest wall, trying with whatever energy I still had left to support me up against it. It gets harder to breathe and my vision is swirling with unclear images, and my sudden coughing and painful gasping for air isn't really helping. I felt my knees buckle and I slid down, my back against the wall, sliding in what felt like slow-motion onto the ground.
This was it. The cold winter breeze blowing all around me, the rain splashing on my pale face, and the foggy vision constantly fading and finally the breeze was replaced by total darkness surrounding my limpless body.
Yes, I was high. Brink had introduced me to this wonderful stuff called cocaine. Made wonderful things happen to you. When you were on it, it made you forget everything. It sent you on a fast ride into space, taking you to the planet of pure bliss and serenity. It always worked. Every time I was on it, I didn't feel like a homeless piece of shit. On the contrary, it made me feel like I was the king of the world. And I felt I deserved that kind of thinking. Especially today. Why? Because today was my sixteenth birthday. And I felt like celebrating it in the only way I possibly could.
"What's going on?" I heard someone say, but my head felt too heavy to even oblige to the message my brain was trying to send. I felt the two hands holding me up against the wall let go and I was dropped down into the filthy mud.
"We found this little fucker stealing our food," one of the 'attackers' growled.
I felt another pair of arms reaching down to me and pulling me up.
"Oh shit, look at him? How old do you think he is?" a tough, female voice piped up, coming from my right.
I looked around, my vision still a little blurred as I did not have my glasses on, but I could make out the lines of another tall figure, standing in front of me.
"My glasses..." I mumbled, trying to reach down for them, but my sore stomach made it hard for me to do so. Someone reached down there for me and handed them over to me.
"Thanks," I whispered, barely audible.
"How long 'ave you been livin' on the streets?" the guy asked, looking like he was the 'leader'. Well, he did look like he was a lot smarter than those thugs who had pinned me up against the wall.
"Few months," I stuttered.
They laughed.
"A rookie, aye," someone said, and laughed.
"Look, kiddo, if you're gonna survive out 'ere, you better not try an' steal our stuff," the 'leader' of the gang said, a tone of threat clearly heard in his words.
"Okay... I won't steal your food," I said, sounding rather stupid but what else could I say? After this encounter I surely did not want to get on their bad side.
"We own this area, so ya betta not get in our way," a tall, slender looking boy, 15 years of age I guessed, leaning against the wall. The group contained five guys and just one girl, all looking to be from the age fifteen to seventeen.
"Can't I join you?" I mumbled, not daring to make eye-contact.
They laughed. Laughed at me.
"Ha, you wanna join us, boy?" Brink said, smirking ever so widely. "No shittin' way, just look at yourself," he added, laughing.
"Oh, come on, Brink, give 'im a chance, eh? He's so young," the girl said, pushing herself from the wall and walking over to me.
"Exactly, Mills," Brink said. "He's young, he won't do us any good."
"I'm not so sure about that," the girl, Mills, said, grinning. "How old are you?" Mills asked.
"Fourteen," I hesitantly answered.
"You look younger..."
"Fine," Brink said, glaring at Mills. "You can join the group, but you betta not bring us down if ya ever get caught."
"I won't," I replied.
Life's a bitch. There's no greater way to put it. It fucks you up. For some, life is great. No doubt about it, I must say. For others, life is great for the first twenty years of your life, but every single day from then on, it turns downhill. Not entirely downhill, more of a rollercoaster you can even call it. Up and down, up and down, up and down goes life.
Oh, dear God, I do sound a like a depressed young man. I'm just sick of how just shitty life is and that things never turn out the way they are supposed to. I mean, look at me, I'm turning sixteen tonight and all alone I wander in the cold rain, only waiting for my body to finally give in and collapse, not getting my hopes high about ever getting up again. Wait, what was that? My vision was starting to get a bit blurred, my legs going numb, possibly because of the ice cold September rain hitting my already cold legs. It felt like someone was stinging me with needles, all over my body. I staggered towards the nearest wall, trying with whatever energy I still had left to support me up against it. It gets harder to breathe and my vision is swirling with unclear images, and my sudden coughing and painful gasping for air isn't really helping. I felt my knees buckle and I slid down, my back against the wall, sliding in what felt like slow-motion onto the ground.
This was it. The cold winter breeze blowing all around me, the rain splashing on my pale face, and the foggy vision constantly fading and finally the breeze was replaced by total darkness surrounding my limpless body.