I Don't Have Much In Life But Take It - It's Yours.

Saturday night. It's a regular thing for me, Saturday nights, out on the town, a big group of us, sex, booze, drugs, hybrid music. Dressing up to go to the club, anything and everything neon, hoping we come away holding someone's hand, just to cure the loneliness for a night.
But it never does cure it, not properly. Maybe just for that one moment, when you're entwined as close as humanly possibly physically, but emotionally there's nothing there. That's what cures loneliness, that emotional closeness, and none of us have got that, me especially.

I mean, yeah I'm rich right? But that's not all there is to me. I mean if people looked beyond the money, behind the neon makeup and the dyed hair, they would see that Jay Franklin-Williams's not a bad guy. I have so called friends, people I know, acquaintances, but not friends, I dont know the meaning of the word.

One of those acquaintances bounds up to me now, as I'm leant against the bar of a strobe light filled venue, resting my head on one hand, "Jayyyy," she whines. I give an almost inaudible groan and turn to her, lifting my head from my hand, "It's your turn to buy the drinks!"

"But I bought the last round!" I yell over the music. The girl's face immediately darkens, like the spoilt brat she is, and almost miraculously a few more acquaintances gather round us threateningly. I throw up my hands in defeat and shove my way through the crowd.

"Whatever, I'm going anyway," I say loudly as I'm walking away from them. I've already had enough alcohol to cloud my judgement, and I dont particularly want more, especially when it'll lead to another girl, or guy, in my bed, and more loneliness.

When I stumble out into the night air there's a buzzing in my ears and the cool air makes my head bang. I press the palm of my hand to my forehead and wince, stumbling forward blindly, hoping I can find my way home, to that mansion I'm supposed to call home, where I'm most likely the only one there, my parents away on business, my older sister out with her friends. I have no such luck when my mind's blank, and when I try to peer at the street names, they're blurred and moving.

I see an alley, a dark passage way through two sleazy looking buildings, and something in my memory stirs. I stumble down there, using all my concentration to stay upright. A scowl finds it's way onto my face as my head pounds, and I can't help thinking about those acquaintances and how I want something so much more.

I'm the alley now, stumbling through the darkness, my vision swimming, head banging. I pull at a strap on one of my vests, hitching it back up my shoulder. I pull at the strap of my Dora The Explorer bag that's hanging from my shoulders too, subconsciously making sure its safe.

I hear a noise, barely audible, and I sober a little, whirling in the darkness to try and scan the cramped space. I find nothing, and turn back again, "Stupid cats," There's an uneasy feeling in my stomach I'm trying to ignore and I scowl even more, rubbing my hand across my stomach for a second. I quicken my pace a little and lower my head.

There's a light turned on from one of the buildings, and the shadows cats from it onto the wall catch my attention. There's not one, like there should be, there's two. The second one's behind me, too close for comfort. I whirl round and there's a figure running away from me, but I dodge forward, almost completely sober, and my hands close round their bag, jolting them to a stop. They strain but I'm stronger and my other hand digs into their shoulder, spinning them back round, slamming my foot into their shin.

Faster than I can realise they lash out, collided their curled fist with my forehead, and there's a roaring inside my skull, as if someone's trying to pull it apart. I grunt and there's a cracking noise from one of us, I can't tell which.

I curl my fist into a ball, raising it so I can fight back. It's still dark and I can't see whoever they are, their dark hood hiding any traces of their face. I bring my fist towards their face, and their head moves, their eyes looking up at me.

I stop, I freeze. This figure, this lost and lonely figure clad in darkness, has the most piercing eyes I've ever seen. They're an icy blue, though the longer I look at them they seem to change beneath my gaze. I realise they're a guy, and he's probably homeless, resorting to stealing just to stay alive.

I want to say something, I want to hold him in my arms. My fist stays frozen in the air, as if all my muscles have turned solid, transfixed by these blue eyes. I open my mouth, realise my lips are shaking, and try to say something to this boy millimetres away.

Fear flashes through those beautiful eyes and he suddenly turns. He sprints off down the alley, back where we came from, faster than I can realise. It feels as if he's taken part of me, and I start after him, desperate for that piece of my soul back, "Hey! Wait! Wait up! Please!"

I sprint down the alley, faster than I've ever moved in my life, desperate. The cold night air tears at my lungs, making the tears rise in my eyes. But I keep running, sprinting the length of the alley to skid to a halt at the other end. I just see his bag turn round a corner and start running again, but by the time I get to the street he ran down its empty. There's a car crawling up it, casting it eerie light across the pavements, showing them empty, and I feel my heart sink.

I pull at my bag, realising one of the strings has been cut, by the boy. I pull at the frayed edges and stumble back so my back's pressed against the jagged bricks. I sink down into a crouch and hang my head. When I look up I'm sure my eyes are shining with determination.

As I stalk back through the streets, my mind filled with the boy and his blue eyes, I make a promise to myself, to him, to anyone whose listening.

I will find him. I'll find him and I'll hold him in my arms. If its the last thing I do.