S1 E9: Death Inc. Pt. 2

Silver Heart (Present Day) 

“NO!” I yelled as her screams mixed with the blood flying into the air from the constant stabs, a macabre rain splattering against the concrete. Marcus's face was drenched in that violent red, accentuating the lines of crazed laughter from his lips, as my hands twitched for two relics of my past.  

I still have those weapons. Not a lot of bullets, but it would be just enough to make a statement…

I was filled with disbelief, rage, and a sickening desire for violence.  

I could become that again. It would just be like slipping into an old comfortable jacket that was still your size. It would still fit, even if it wasn't your style anymore… 

I could feel my teeth grinding as my rage bubbled inside. My eyes burned from the tears and the threat of changing color to that ominous red. I could easily step back into my old shoes and put them in their place. Rule over this little area with the blood of murderers. I had taken on much larger groups with more seasoned thugs in the past. I took a step towards Marcus and his advancing crew, but the pain in my ankle reminded me of my weakness and edged some of the rage. I looked at the oddly peaceful face of my newly departed Aunt while Marcus rose triumphantly from her corpse. My head cleared for a single moment and the cold air in my panting lungs grounded me.

Would she want me to be the old me?... No, that life has been left behind. I just need to survive. Gunfire would invite the police without a silencer. Even with a silencer, it would still be loud enough to attract attention... Would someone call the police? I had no idea. It wasn't a good idea. I needed to stay under the radar.

The burning started to fade from my eyes and my blood boiled less beneath my skin. I needed to be better.  

She's dead. This fight was already lost... She was already lost... Sorry, Auntie…  

I spun around and took off into the camp. As I snaked through the makeshift cardboard, tin, and wood homes, I made sure to pull every loose board and item into the path behind me. I was not going to make my capture easy. I tore through the tunnel and ran for hours along the busy New York Streets until my lungs burned, my ankle throbbed, and my feet turned to lead. The darkness of a random alleyway hid my frozen tears as the still night air assured me that I wasn't followed. The weight of what I had just witnessed started to sink in now that my adrenaline was fading away. 

I couldn't save her… My adoptive aunt… I failed again. 

I began punching the cold, brick wall. I needed pain to distract me, to ground me. I needed to block out my thoughts and dark desires. I needed to forget. To become numb, once more. Just like in the past.

Why did I quit my old habits? I needed them so badly...but I don't want to become what I used to be.  I don't want blackouts and waking up to blood again.

I fell to my hands and knees, struggling to breathe in between my tears.  

Why does everything I touch fall into ruin? When will I finally destroy myself? 

A cold snowflake fell on my neck and warned me of the harsh winter I was living through. I shifted my weight into a kneeling position and looked into the sky with my still-watering eyes. It was only a light flurry, but conditions could change at any moment.  

I can't stay here. This place is too open to the elements. I need to find shelter for the night. 

I forced my tired body to stand, and I was again reminded of my newest injury by a sharp throb once my weight hit my ankle.  

I need to fix this.  

I slowly hobbled over to the alleyway wall and performed some street medicine by slamming the dislocated ankle into the wall. An audible pop echoed in the alley and a wave of pain, then relief shot through my body.  

There, good as new... Zack would be impressed and horrified that I fixed my ankle like that... I miss him.

I really should have let a professional look at it and handle it, but no money and a record doesn't make it easy. I readjusted my backpack on my shoulders, as my monetary pity party had made it loose, and started walking down the streets of New York.  

If I can stay busy, I don't have to think… I don't have to feel. 

I tried to rack my brain and figure out my next moves. I had no home to return to and I had to keep away from Marcus, but to get anywhere in life you need money.  

What could I do for work? Panhandling makes me an easy target for both the police officers and Marcus. Errand, info, and free-running jobs run the risk of Marcus and his gang catching me. The mob is not an option for me… At least not anymore. Was there a shop that would let me work under the table? I think there are some restaurants in the Bronx that might employ someone like me in the kitchen or for dish duty.

A bright light suddenly hit the side of my face, drawing my attention to a mostly empty café. An older TV was the cause of the glow, informing the world of the week's forecast. As the bright seven-day weather display lit up the street, it gave me somber news.  

Tomorrow, I'll be sixteen... Well, more like a few hours. God, what a shitty life I've lived. Nothing to be proud of. Only things to regret. Maybe this year will be my year. Maybe I'll do something worth my mother's sacrifice.

The cold wind hit my face and a shiver went down my spine.

I hope I can find a warm place to sleep tonight… 

I resumed walking, hoping for the simple birthday wish of a fire and food. I was lost in my thoughts, full of wonderful food and soft bedding, when I slipped on some invisible sidewalk ice. I fell face first and painted the ground red with my nose as my mood quickly soured.  

A warm place? Yeah, and Hell will freeze over…

I held my nose for a few moments while on all fours in hopes the bleeding would stop. I urged myself not to cry over this inconvenience. I was stronger than some injury... Though it was not the injury that made me want to bawl my eyes out again.  

Was it too much to ask for a small break in this world? Was it too much to want to fix my life and finally be on the right side of the law? Cops, Marcus, Auntie, injuries, and not even a birthday wish. Some week this is turning out to be. 

I picked myself up off the ground, leaving the dried blood to rot on my face, and resumed my nighttime walk. The blood would at least make others leave me alone. I didn't want any company despite my misery, but, like always, the universe had other plans for me.  

The street I was on was slowly becoming busy from the local drunks doing their nightly bar hopping. I did my best to ignore them, but I should have paid some attention to what they looked like instead of blindly passing them on the street. If I had, I would've noticed the less than jovial man to my left before feeling him slam down the metal handcuffs onto my wrist. The small click sealed my fate before I had time to react; the day really had taken its toll if I was this slow.