S1 E4: Memories Pt. 4

Silver Heart (Present Day) 

Reality struck painfully against my ankle as I failed to stick the landing and crumbled at the first point of weakness. The officer must have damaged it more than I thought in the earlier struggle... Grabbing my ankle in pain, I tried to stay calm. I didn't want the pain to paint my eyes that evil red. I didn't need the sins those eyes would inflict if I gave in. Those instincts to harm were always so strong… 

I needed to keep moving or at least hide well enough that the police officers would think I had slipped away. Forcing myself to crawl quickly behind an air conditioner, I held my breath, as my heart pounded in my chest. I listened to their running footsteps, my anxiety sending tremors down my arms... Then there was nothing. Taking a risk, I peered around the corner of the dying air conditioner to see the first officer standing still, looking over the edge into the depths of the unforgiving alleyway.  His face was full of shock and annoyance.

“They don’t pay me enough to risk jumping that gap and the health insurance is too shoddy for me to even chance it for the glory,” the first police officer scoffed as the second walked up next to him holding his bloody nose. 

“That brat will pay for this the next time we see him. I'll have the strongest cuffs and the most 'inviting' cellmates waiting for him,” the second officer growled, blood seeping between his fingers, staining the weathered concrete roof.  

“We need to get you some medical attention. No telling how far the kid has gone at this point. I only glimpsed him ducking behind the air conditioners, but we all know that he doesn't stay still. He can slink away into any damn hole. He could be anywhere by now,” the first officer sighed with frustration as a look of defeat melted onto the second injured officer's face. 

“True, if you can’t keep sight of him and lose him for too long, he’s gone. Here I thought we’d finally catch him and be the talk of the station.”  

They started to walk away, and I leaned against the squealing air conditioner, sighing in relief. 

Thank God. I can't run with a busted-up ankle.  I'll end up hurting it more, or hurt something else while compensating for it.

I could feel my urge to harm ease away. My eyes must have turned red, but judging from my feelings, they were fading to my normal blue. The pain wasn't enough to keep the evil red once the adrenaline and fear wore off.  

I listened to the two police officers' descent down the escape before I tried to get up. It was painful and would swell, but it wasn't the first injury I'd gotten while free running and not the worst. Looking it over, in the worst-case scenario, I might've dislocated it slightly and at best I had sprained it.  

I could tough it out for now and figure out how to fix it later. I needed to get back to camp for the day. I hadn't gotten any useful info to sell, but at least I had made it to my community classes to get my G.E.D. It was run by a church, so they never sold me out and showed fake information to keep me safe from the police officers. I think the fact I was still young made them sweet on me. I could really 'play up' that helpless teenager card when I needed to. However, their record protection would change the moment I graduated, but that was a problem for another day. Right now, I just need to get my life together.  

I don't want to be a street rat forever. Not when I've had a taste of the finer things in life… Even if it did come at a cost. I shivered, trying to black out the memories of my crimes. I never wanted to turn into that person again. Hobbling to the roof door, I started towards the homeless camp.  

...

It was sunset when the blocked-off abandoned bridge came into view. Beneath its crumbling exterior, an extensive homeless camp was buzzing with life; fires going in the barrels, canned food warmed above it, shadows reflected on curtains in wooden doorways and tent sides, music and chatter coming from every crevice; It wasn't much, but it's been my home for about a year now. I didn't have my own tent, but I slept with my backpack as a pillow and shared one of the communal sleeping areas with a few I trusted. 

Like every society, it had its rules, but they made more sense survival-wise than in modern society. I didn't mind following them. It also has a straightforward hierarchy of power. The leader of it all… Well, she's quite the woman. I owe a lot to her and, in this messed-up world, she's like a mom… Okay, more of an aunt, if I'm being honest. I mean, I do call her 'Auntie', but so does the rest of the camp. I scanned the camp to find Auntie warming her wrinkled hands in front of one of the outlying barrels.

“You’re late. I thought the cops got Ya,” Auntie commented as I approached the fire, only limping slightly. I didn't want to show weakness here. Not all the homeless are friendly.  

“I’m too fast for them, Auntie.” 

“Did you go to the learning community today?” She inquired in a worried tone. I nodded and she began to relax. “How much more?” 

“Just a few more classes, and I’ll be caught up for my age,” I smiled as I warmed my hands. I worked hard to get to this point. No schooling until fifteen isn't an easy thing to fix.  

“Good. You have a way out. Take advantage of that before it slips through your fingers. Don't be like me,” she smiled sadly. She had mentioned once that she didn't have much of an education growing up and, after some incident overseas, she fell through the cracks of the system. The way she spoke about it made me wonder if she was a veteran. She would wake up in a cold sweat sometimes and loud noises would make her act strangely. She would never talk about it, but the wild look in her eyes could paint enough of a picture.  

“Auntie, you could come with me. You know it’s not far from here, and it’s the roads you travel daily. They even give us snacks, and it's a place to get out of the elements for a bit,” I encouraged her. “There are plenty of older and even elderly people at the community center. I think there's someone who mentioned they were in their eighties. If they could do it, then it wouldn't be too late for you to try. Just think of the possibilities; how many doors could open for you.”

“Nah, I’m too old for any decent prospects that could offer enough to get off the street and I don’t do well in most civilian working environments. Best I forget about learning and leave it to the youngsters. I’ve got enough worries about raising you into a good man, and taking care of the other wayward souls in this camp,” she waved the thought away. I don't know how many times we've argued over this subject, but as the old saying goes: ‘You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.’

A rough, deep scar on her left hand shown brightly against the hungry fire and her dark, olive complexion. A sharp pang of guilt ran through my system as I remembered the video and her explanation behind the gruesome scar.