Schrödinger's Cat

"So how long have you known Wild?"

Rusty giggled and smiled softly at the camera and ,"That's the thing," smoke whisked around him as he took another drag from his cigarette,"I've known him so long that he's always been there. I can't remember him not being there", He smiled a bit tightly, watching the smoke drift from his cigarette to the ceiling.

He reached over to the coffee table in front of him and flicked the ashes in the tray," That being said, there is a good 3 or 4 year period that's void of all his presence".

"What happened those 3 or 4 years? Where was he? What was he doing?"

Rusty took a drag off his cigarette, blowing smoke rings as he exhaled,"That's the thing. When he graduated he just up and left. No note or anythin'. Just poof." He made a wide gesture with his hands as his cigarette rested between his lips.

"Did he ever tell you where he was during that time?"

Rusty' eyes got dark, shadows falling across his face, and he wore a tragic expression as the cigarette smoke wisped around him."He's said that he's told us all of it, but I know there is so much more."

"Why do you say that?"

Rusty blew smoke at the ceiling and watched it once more as it drifted higher and higher before dissipating into nothing, morphing with the air around them," When I first saw him after those 3 or 4 years, there was this haunted look in his eyes, and he looked hollow, sunken even."

Rusty seemed to drift lost in his thoughts, and when he came back his eyes were glazed over, staring directly into the camera," I saw the struggles and the torture his vices had put him through...and he did it all alone."

"Do you think he will ever tell you everything?"

He looked at Coleen solemnly," No, I think there are some secrets better left unsaid."

--------------------------6 1/2 years previously-------------------------

There was a slight breeze that swept through Wild and chilled him, forcing him to pull his leather jacket closer to his body and his beanie further down on his ears.

He was cold and itching with a dark hunger.

He felt that familiar itch from within his skin, his mind raced and his eyes darted as he struggled to maintain his reality.

'2 months without meds was a really bad idea ,' he thought, his eyes losing focus and blurring as the wind swirled around him and tiny flakes of snow drifted around him in a whirlwind of white.

It was Christmas Eve, a holy day, and he stood on a street corner , dirty with secrets and regret, ready to Sin.

He was so used and he liked it and hated it.

He wasn't quite sure how that could be, but it just was.

Maybe this was Gods' punishment to him, being trapped in this never ending cycle of sin, and all he could do was survive.

He had to, it was all he knew how to do.

Outlast it, that's all he had to do. Outlast all the pain. Outlast the dirt and the grime, the filthy and the poor.

But for how long?

How long did he have to shove this overwhelming disgust and hatred for himself?

How long before he couldn't take it anymore?

How long would he last?

It was a waiting game and he was waiting to see how long it would finally take him to snap.

To snap and die and fade away, like any other crack whore would...but he wasn't just any other crack whore.

He was Wild, and he had to live.

He had to.

No matter how many dudes he had to fuck. No matter how many lines he had to snort. No matter how many men he had to give back alley blow jobs, it was all to live.

But why did it hurt so much?

He was shaken out of his thoughts as a car stopped in front of him and a man came to the passenger window,"How much for tonight?" The man's face was hidden and Wild tried to get a better look at him, his accent was funny and out of place," 500 euros," Wild shuffled uncomfortably, he didn't like the vibe coming from this guy. It was off,"650 if you want me overnight."

The guy studied Wild,"Why so much?"

Why so much? Why?

Wild gritted his teeth and fake smiled at the man," It's Christmas Eve!"

The guy, the man, stared at him as if asking himself whether or not Wild was even worth that much (because whores aren't people, too).

Why so much?

It made Wild sick.

He wanted to wash all the filth of this street, of these men, off him.

He hated how his skin itched in that moment. His head was aching and he just wished , in that moment, that he was someone else. That he was somewhere else.

God, why couldn't he be different.

He started to hear the whispering again, those hushed roars in the back of his mind that he kept ignoring because he knew they weren't real. They were all in his head.

All of it.

The man finally spoke after a long while," Alright." Wild moved to open the car door when he heard," No." The man glared up at Wild with such a firm control that Wild stayed put as the man turned off his car and crawled out.

Soon the man was standing in front of him, breathing on him, Wild had enough," Hey, what do you take me for-" The man pulled him into a nearby alley and slammed him against the wall," Hey! What the fuck?!"

The man reached for Wilds' zipper, Wild stopped his hands, the man breathing on the crook of Wilds' neck," that's not how this works, mate. We can't-". The man brought his head out of Wilds' neck, a dark scowl across his shadowed face, "You want the money or not whore?"

Whore. How could he forget? That's what he was.

The man had every right to fuck him in an alley with no respect for Wild. He had every right because he was a paying customer, and Wild needed to deliver the goods, the service.

He was merely the supplier.

Well, this supplier was not about to be fucked in an alley way. He still had a little dignity left.

"Yeah well, I'm not the kind of whore that won't mind getting fucked in an alley. I have class," he lied. He always lied.

The man snarled,"Well you are tonight if you wanna eat."

The man forced himself on Wild. Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Wild scratched and clawed and bit his way to freedom until he finally managed to land a nice 4 nail scratch on the man's cheek," You SLAG!" He hit Wild with all his strength and, as the man kicked the air from his lungs and the tears from his bloody face, Wild silently hoped for his death.

But it never came, all he was left with was a mangy 100 euros and the knowledge of how worthless he truly was.

He tried to sit up, he couldn't lay here all night, the rats might eat eat him.

As he strained his body to sit up he felt a shock of pain shoot up his side.

Fuck.

"Why so much," the voices whispered.

Why?

His eyelids closed and he prayed that the rats would be kind enough to spare him tonight.