Troubles

I carefully pull my arm through a sleeve, my chest aching as I move my shoulder. The guy broke one of my ribs and bruised another few. Surprisingly, the bruise on my skin isn't that bad, but that might change in a day or two.

I'm being careful not to bump my hand against the walls of this tiny bathroom as I get my arm all the way through the sleeve without too much pain.

It's almost 5am, which means it's dark out and a lot of people are probably asleep, and if I'm lucky, I'll be able to slip out of here before the nurses change shifts and start checking up on all the patients.

I tug down my sweatshirt and look myself in the mirror. There are no violent bruises or split open skin, only a little asphalt rash on my cheek. I brush my hair down over it and make a mental note of not brushing my hair behind my ear. That way, they might not recognize me as being a patient.

It's gonna be hard sneaking out of here at this hour, since visitors are probably not allowed, but if anyone asks, I'll say that I'm just leaving after having spent the night with a friend in a coma; that some nurse allowed me to. I just hope I can pull off that lie. But then again, I've lied to people who I cared about so many times that this should be a piece of cake.

The thing, though, was that last night, I wasn't gonna lie. I was gonna tell Gerard the truth last night. If Mikey would have thought it a good idea and if Gerard wanted to see me, I would tell them both. I even think a tiny bit of me dared to hope – hope – that he would still like me back. I don't think I've hoped for anything since my mom died. Before that, I hoped that she was still alive; every day, I hoped for that.

I rub my face to avoid letting any tears spill over and look at the green bathroom door. With the mental notes of not looking up and not tugging my hair behind my ear repeating in my mind, I open the door and prepare to sneak out.

-----

I sit down in front of the church, not far from the bus terminal. I considered sitting in the park nearby, but any NJ park is nothing anyone should be in at night. Even the murderous fucks who stab people or randomly shoot someone shouldn't be in a NJ park at night.

I pull my sweatshirt over my legs and huddle up to keep myself as warm as possible. It wasn't this cold when I left for the bus terminal last night. But the sun had just set then and now it's been down for hours and won't come up for another two, I think. I think it's about 7, but I'm far from sure.

I'm not sure what to do now, either. I feel lost, in a way. Or maybe just 'alone' would be a better word to use. I don't really know. I just have nowhere to go.

If I go to Brian's, he'll fuss over me and spend way too much money on getting me warm and well and...happy. He'd drive me to school every morning to keep me safe, which would cost him a lot of money on gas. And as I hear, gas is quite expensive lately, even though I don't get it, 'cause every gas station still have miniscule prices on their boards.

If I go to the shelter, I'll be robbed. Or stabbed. Or robbed, stabbed and killed.

If I go to the Ways, they'll take me back to Brian's, so I can't do that.

Or, well, I won't. I could. There are a lot of thing I could do. I could walk to Belleville and stay there. I could keep going to school and sleep in trash cans or on benches around town and pretend like it's my home again.

But it's not. I go to school there, but I don't live there anymore. I promised myself I wouldn't live in that town ever again. If it were possible, I'd never return to that town.

I pull my arms and my sleeves in and wrap both around my legs, trying to keep warm. The cold keeps seeping through the fabric of my sweatshirt, making me shiver and tense.

That lonely feeling returns. I think I'm finally ready to admit it. I've been trying to forget it and avoid it, but I guess there's no reason for that anymore; I've lost everything. Again. And I feel lost and alone, and where ever I go, I'll be a burden. I don't know what to do now or where to go, so I might as well admit defeat and think the thought:

I'm homeless.