Anarchy in NYC

The sharp sting of cold water snapped me into consciousness. I lay still, not quite ready to open my eyes and face the world. My cheek was pressed against something cold and hard. Pavement? God, where was I?

I opened my eyes and saw that the street was indeed eye level. It was cold and damp and my jacket was nowhere to be seen. My skinny limbs were uncovered for once, the consistent bruises and scratches glaring at me. My body half destroyed from lack of care.

What happened last night? I sat up slowly and checked to make sure everything was in working order. Catching my reflection in a pool of stagnant water, I saw that I had a decent sized cut on my lip, and a small bruise above my eye. The rain was falling steadily now, and I began walking in no particular direction, hoping to clear my head.

* * *

Why are hospitals always so cold? I zipped my leather jacket tighter, ignoring the typical stares that usually accompany me.

“Kennicot, John?” The nurse at the door called out my name to the nearly full waiting room. I stood up, smiling at a woman who looking particularly horrified by my appearance.

“That would be me.” The nurse indifferently led me to a room down the hall.

“The doctor will be in shortly.” She left, closing the door behind her with an echoing bang. I looked around the examination room, wondering what was going to happen. After a few minutes, the door opened again, this time by a middle aged man in a lab coat.

“Hello John, I’m Dr. Smith.” He held out his hand for me to shake.

“Nice to meet y-“ My words were interrupted by one of my coughing fits. The reason I was here in the first place. I thought I had a cold or something, and after submitting to seemingly random tests, I was back to claim my pills. He was going to give me pills, right?

“I see that still hasn’t cleared up?” Smith said accusingly. I shook my head in between coughs.

“Just a cold.” I managed to choke out.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Your test results came back, and I’m afraid…” He paused.

“What’s the verdict, doc?” I said, now that my coughing had subsided.

“Well John, it appears that you have lung cancer.”

I froze. I felt a weight crushing down on me, this couldn’t be happening. Not to me. This wasn’t real. I took a shaky breath and tried to focus on what the doctor was saying.

“…Still in early stages. The best thing to do would be to start treatment immediately.”

“Um… right. My voice sounded so dead. “Treatment?”

“Chemotherapy. As soon as possible.” I paused, still waiting for everything to sink in.

“Hey doc?” I let out a weak laugh. “ Does this mean I can’t smoke anymore?”

* * *

I thought I knew this city so well, and here I was. Lost. I cursed at myself and kicked a stray rock. I lowered myself onto the curb and buried my head in my arms, begging for any shard of memory.

A car honk. The screech of brakes.

“The fuck are you doing? Get out of the road!” An unfamiliar voice shouting.

“Hey! Fuck off!” James.

A car door opening. Footsteps.

“What did you say to me?!” That strange voice.

“I said,” James began slowly, “Fuck off.” I could hear his cocky grin through his tone of voice.

Then, the sound of fist making contact with skin. The terrifying click I’d heard on too many occasions. James’ blade.

“Forget it man!” More angry shouts, though unintelligible. Finally, the car door closing again, and the engine road growing further and further away….

I groaned. I remembered vaguely that James had been walking behind me. Did that mean I was the cause of the near accident? Was I the reason James got in yet another fight, or did the fight subside because I was there? And that still didn’t explain… I gently touched the bruise on my eye.

Flashes of light. A lamp maybe? And shouts. But this time, I heard my own, screaming words just beyond my reach of understanding.

“Fucking bitch!”

Then the room looked different. I saw ceiling instead of a blurry face. I tried talking, tried defending myself, but nothing came out. I focused instead on the taste of metal in my mouth and the growing spot of red next to me.

I shut my eyes tight, trying to erase the memory. I should have known. He always got crazy when our drugs were involved. Why do I always expect something different?

I wiped at my eyes fiercely. I would not let myself cry. I’m supposed to be strong. I crawled over to a nearby doorway of a dilapidated building and curled up tightly. I’m just going to disappear for a while.

I just want to disappear.

* * *

I had walked circles all around the city, and had finally found my way back to our tiny excuse for an apartment. I pushed the door open with my shoulder, our lock had never worked. I stepped over James’ body, still unconscious from last night’s exploits.

Didn’t he see how stupid he was?! Throwing away a perfectly good life. I felt sick to my stomach. Running to the toilet, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Seeing as I try to look at myself as little as possible, I immediately noticed a difference. My face was definitely thinner and I had deep purple bags under my eyes.

I raised my fist, ready to destroy the awful image. Instead of crashing it against the glass, I noticed something out of the corner of my eye. Clippers. Hell, it was going to happen anyway, why not jump the gun? I took one last look at myself, my trademark style standing strong. And with a small click, the clippers buzzed to life.

It was about time things started changing. And I was going to start with the only thing I still had control over.