They‘re coming. They always come. Scanning for me in the dimly lit streets. They think they’ll find me, but they won’t they never will. The city is my home and, boy can I hide.
The cold doesn’t hurt me any more. I will triumph against the bitter ruthless winds, the lashing unmerciful rain and the sly silent cold. I lie awake at night looking up at the sky, at it’s overwhelming vastness. Thoughts take me away from this grey and damp life that I lead. Children stare at me, parents pity me, but they don’t understand, they can’t understand. I chose this.
I lived with Carol and Neil from the age of 8. They adopted me when my mum died. Mum had been ill for months when she died. Life was empty after her. Every bit of good in the world had been drained; I couldn’t deal with her death properly. And I didn’t.
Days are bleak and boring. People rushing in and out of the bustling shops, none of them taking the time to stop and realise that what they are buying is worthless.
But at night. Another world arises. The city becomes a haven of lights and laughter. Wonder and excitement. But as early morning approaches the laughter turns to drunken arguments. The lights become wily and sinister; their ominous glow is almost haunting. That’s when they come. They spot me sitting on a park bench. We meet eye to eye. Their cackling laughter shatters my thoughts, and I run.
But tonight’s different. There are more of them, they seem to know where I’m heading, so I change course but I can still here the prominent thud of heavy yet very fast feet. I run faster, desperate to be rid of the agonising and terrifying thud.
It goes dark, death.
But death would have been too kind.
So now you ask again, the cold doesn’t get to me any more, but I’m ice cold on the inside, frozen. The city – a place of hardship and unforgiving brutality, a place where one can get lost, forgotten about. I have no hope here n the city.