Sticks and Stones
I never quite saw the world as others saw it. I saw the truth, sadness, war, depression, anger, I never lived with that curtain of hope and happiness. One of my favorite authors describes what I feel in a poem, Sticks and stones may break my bones, but my thoughts will ought to be the ones to kill me. I never quite understood how to be optimistic. So to start this story off, this is about my dream of happiness. Although, some dreams don’t come true.
Chapter One
It’s a usual Fall day, in the Bronx, walking home from work as a part-time sanitation worker. And as a part-time drug dealer. I can barely afford anything. Rent is now too expensive and food is becoming scarce. Last week, when I was in the library checking out novels, I saw a girl. She was obviously not from The Bronx. She had nice clothes and a Gucci wrist watch. I walk up to her, I have an idea, if I can start a relationship with her, and take money from her.
She looks lonely, extremely lonely, she has a book of poetry in her hands, just a glimpse of it says, “Many people don't experience suicidal thoughts, they think, ‘Why should I do it?’ when other people are thinking, ‘What's stopping me from doing it?’ But it is that very thought of something stopping them, something they love, hate, admire, anything, that keeps them from doing it, the thought that they will find something or someone that they trust enough to not.” I walk up to her at a steady paste, I see that she still had her work clothes on, I see the Target sign. Getting closer I read the name tag, Clara, that sounds like a grandma name I thought to myself. “Hi, Clara.” “What do you want, and how do you know my name?” She says quickly and harshly. “Nothing, It just seems that I have lost my phone number, so, I was wondering if I can have have yours?” Yes, I know it's cheesy, but why not? “Wow, original.”
“Let me guess, you live in some dump apartment that smells like meth and works in a job that pays well for someone that doesn't have a highschool diploma.” She says,  intelligent. I wonder what million-dollar college she went to, but now that I truly look at her she may still be in college. “You’re good at reading people, but so am I. Let me guess, grew up in a perfect American family with two children, boy and girl. Also a rich family, but not because they worked for the money, but because they inherited it. You were a good student and got a scholarship to an amazing college.” I say with confidence and precision. She starts to respond, “That was, completely and utterly wrong. I grew up in The Bronx with a poor family and finished high school, went to the public college with a full scholarship from working hard. Everything that I have, I earned.” “What about the wrist watch?” “Oh yeah, it is fake, I bought it in The Chinatown in lower Manhattan when I was trying to make it out as a big writer. That's what I'm doing here, putting my books on the shelfs, illegally, of course.”
“How come I’ve never seen you around here if you grew up here?” “Again, I'm trying to make it out as a big time writer, dad kicked me out when I was seven. I lived on the streets since then.” “Wow, and I thought that you were a complete loser.” I walk away at the same pace that I came. I look back at her, “You know you can stay at my place if you want, two-hundred twenty-one Jester Avenue. The door is always unlocked.” “Yeah, sure. I'm just lonely, not desperate,” she says with a smirk on her face. I go ahead and check out my books and leave the library to go home. I walk to my apartment and yes, I'm serious when I said my door is always unlocked. There was a gang fight in my apartment and the lock on my door got shot, but now I'm used to it, it's not like I have anything of any significance in there anyway.
Tonight I'm supposed to pick up some drug supplies. My drug supplier usually is a pretty laid back guy, recently, his brother got caught by the police, a.k.a, he got shot and killed.
Two hours later.
I’ve just gotten into my banged up and rusted 1985 Jeep. It’s an unusually shady part of town, not that anywhere else isn’t here. As I walk over to where the abandoned subway station. People are eyeing me as I jump the fence, and I cut open my hand on the rusty chain linked fence. Just another thing to worry about. I don’t know why, but I always get anxious because of these type of things, it feels like I’m about to jump out of my skin.
As I walk over to the building, I realize how this looks as if it would literally all collapse while I’m inside. As I enter the building, I see his joke of a gunman, just a starved guy with a cheap pistol, “You’re late,” he said with disgust, “Sorry,” I say in reply “You know what happens when low lifes like you can’t seem to wrap your minds around being on time.” before I could even say anything, he looked at his gunman, and I jumped behind the nearest collum. I feel the whiff of the bullet as it tears the bottom of my pants, nearly missing my leg. I can’t get close enough to the exit without putting up a fight, I’m too starved, and tired.
Trying to run farther into the subway, as the bullets fly past my head, missing by inches. I run, and run, and run, the sounds of gunshots become quieter and quieter. After what seems like an eternity of running, Deathening silence follows, there are no gunshots, nobody yelling to hit me already, it's silent, peacefully silent. I start to jog slowly, keeping a steady pace, every step I make leaves behind a echo. Looking behind myself, constantly.
As I'm approaching a left turn, a bright light looms around the corner. I walk closer, making sure to stay quiet and trying to breath as slowly and patiently as I can. they’re flashlights. They’re still looking for me. God, it’s like they were planning this.
My head goes down to look at my feet and see a flashlight, I pick it up. Peeking my head around the corner, and see the back of someone’s head. Wait, my mind knows the back of that head. it's the girl from the library. “Hey?!” I whispered “What are you doing this deep in an abandoned subway?!” I say, “I could say the same for you,” she replied, “you first,” she said. “I was kind of meeting a drug supplier, and I was late, so that apparently gave them the right to shoot at me.”
“These two guys were trying to jump me, or something, and they chased me into here, I’ve been lost for the past two hours,” she said, “What about the flashlight?”
“I just found it down here.” We start to walk back up through the subway, carefully, but quietly edging through. Although we are practically being hunted, we still manage to have a decent conversation. “Have you seen the news lately, about the government shutdown?” She asks. “I don’t really have a TV, I sold it to afford rent, and to eat, but I’m trying to save up enough money to afford another, though. One of my friends is selling one for only like, fifty dollars.” “Ok, I got mine from Best Buy.” She replies. I notice that it kind of got awkward for a moment. “So, when you said that you got kicked out of your house by seven, and that you have been living on the streets since then, do you mean you still are living on the streets?” “Do I look like I live on the streets?” She starts to speak in a playful way. “I'm not trying to be rude or anything, but yeah. A little bit.” “Well, aren't you a smart-alec.” She says in a cute and undertone voice. Right as I'm about to respond, I hear someone yell, “There he is!” I whirl around, and before I can even react, I am  shot. I feel a throbbing pain in my shoulder, like hot knives stabbing me over, and over, and over. I hear footsteps,  it’s probably Clara running.
Chapter Two
Fading in and out of consciousness, I barely hear screams, and I’m slowly being dragged across the subways ground. I can feel the dirt pouring into my wounds, scrapping my already scarred body, fading in and out, a conversation occuring, that I hear faintly. “What are we going to do with the body?” a dark voice says, unrecognizable, me not caring whether or not I die anymore. “Let’s just leave him in a dumpster,”
“Ok.” as they drag me up the stairs, me trying not to make a single noise, trying not to tense up, and being limp, banging my head against the dark, dirty, and dusty stairway. I feel a rush of sunlight brush against my skin. My eyes skquenche at the bright rays of light coming from the sun. I open my eyes to identify the attackers. Two men, not Clara. She’s probably still lost down there, I hope she made it out alive, or at least not hurt too bad. I am thrown into a dumpster filled with food waste, and feces, but I am used to it, I mean it's my job to throw this stuff away, and also because of the fact that I practically live in garbage.
I try to get up, but my left arm just isn’t communicating. Reaching in desperation with my right arm, I notice the little slither of light I saw was becoming bigger and bigger. Finally, after about an hour in this hell-hole, a familiar face. It was Clara.
“How did you get down here?” “C-care take me to a h-hospital?” “I think that that may be a good ide-” Right as she is about to finish her sentence, I suddenly hear, Crack! and Clara arruptly falls to her knees and hits her head the metal dumpster, hard. “Jesus christ, you need help,” It was my only close friend, Al. “Come on! Come on! We gotta go.” I wince in pain as I’m lifted out of the dumpster, I barely try to say, “C-cla-” and I pass out. Fading in and out of consciousness, I am carried to the hospital.
Chapter Three
As I wake up from how ever long I’ve been out, I look around the room, it’s a hospital. All I can see that close to me, is a wheelchair, medical equipment, and nurses standing right outside of the room, talking.  I ask, “How long have I been out?” a nurse rushes in and says, “You’ve been unconscious for the past 3 days.” “Is Clara ok?” “Who is Clara?” “The girl that I was with.” “There wasn’t any girl around you when your friend found you, you were alone in the dumpster with a bullet in your shoulder. Well, that’s what the guy that carried you in here said.” She says with bewilderment. “I have to go.” I say, trying to stand up. I feel a sharp pain in my shoulder “Sir, I can't allow you to do that, you are in critical condition, from all of the mud, trash, and feces, that had gotten inside the wound. It was severely infected.” “You don't understand, I can't pay these bills, I have to go, right now.” I try to rush out of the room, trying to get out of the bed, but my legs have other plans. I fall on the ground, which has the smell of pure alcohol. I can’t get up. I struggle and struggle, as I try to stand up. “You need rehab and physical therapy, you won’t be able to walk for a while.” “NO NO NO NO NO!!” I push the nurse down with all my remaining strength, and she surprisingly fell down and hits her head on some equipment, making her unconscious.
I quickly pull myself towards the wheelchair next to my bed. I open the door, trying to act as normal as possible and leave the room with a blank face, leaving the nurse in the room, and push myself towards the elevator door. I push the button and wait for the doors to open. As I reach the lobby, I can see security guards rushing to the stairwell.
As fast as I can, I attempt to reach the door. I’m free of this place, but what am I going to do. There’s probably going to be police on me now, and to make this even worse, I won’t be able to walk. I try to push myself down the road. The apartment. I need to get to my apartment.
I check for my wallet, to see if I have my bus pass. I look inside, there it is. I notice a bus stop just next to the art center. I start to head over there as fast as possible. I arrive, and start to wait for the bus. One good thing about having a wheelchair, is that you don't have to sit on those disgusting benches. As I see the bus coming towards us and stop with a loud Screeechh. I struggle to stand up, and get ahold of the railing, and pull the wheelchair upon the bus, I can clearly see everyone staring at me. I really don’t care right now, all I want to know is if Clara is okay.
That’s not the priority right now, all I need to do, is to get to my apartment, and to get a decent pair of clothes on. I haven't even realized the wound in my shoulder, the bandage is now completely full with blood, slowly seeping through. Some of the blood is starting to drip out. I'm guessing that I have lots of pain medication right now, hopefully they won’t wear off any time soon. One more stop, we’re only about one mile away from the apartment.
Now I can see my apartment, in all of its glory, and right when we’re in front of it, push the emergency break. The bus stops instantaneously and I get out almost completely falling down. I hang on to the bus as a get on my wheelchair. I ride my wheelchair to the front doors and kick them as hard possible. I randomly realize a taser on the ground, I pick it up, and set it in a pocket. My apartment has two front doors, one is see through, the other is completely black(Somebody spray-painted it).
I push the button for the handicap people. Huh, I guess I actually handicap now, I won’t be able to do half of the things I used to be able to do. I then remember what the nurse said earlier, you need rehab. I try to calm myself down with that reassuring statement, but there is still something at the back of my mind that is still saying, What if you get caught? You’ll be caught, and thrown in jail, or even, the police might shoot you before you could get arrested. You’re not going to succeed with this one, something will go wrong. The door opens but instead of moving forward, I have to stay still. AI, is right in front of As the elevator door closes, I can see that he is clearly security guard from the hospital.
Then he says, “Hello, do you know anything? wait a seco-” and before he could finish that sentence, I pulled out the taser, and tase him in the side. As the elevator door opened, I pulled out, and tried to get to my room as fast as possible. Then, I look behind me, to see if anyone could be there, or following me, but then I lose complete control of the wheelchair, and it flips over, and I hit my head on the floor. Hard. I think my room i only a few feet away. I try to crawl my way over to the door. Wheezy, and tired. I’m barely a few feet away from the door. I still only slower, and slower, and slower, until I then come to a stop, and pass out.
Chapter Four
I wake up, on a couch, I around the room and realize that it’s my apartment. Was this all just a dream? Is Clara even real? Was I really at the hospital? I feel my head, and dried blood is covering my face completely. I try to get up, and I realize that the hospital gown is covered in blood. Pain starts in my shoulder, and as I try to take off the gown, part of the gown sticks to the bandage. Suddenly a pressure comes to my back, jerking my head around, I see Clara. She smiles, I try to smile, but it just doesn't come out.
“How are you?” she asks, “I… I don’t really know,” I say in reply. I try to stand up, but staggering, I am barely able to stand by myself. She comes rushing over to help me, “So, what happened after that guy knocked you out?” I ask. “I don’t really remember what happened, finally waking up, looking up, and it was about 5:00 AM, I think. You weren’t there, your friend wasn’t there, and I had no idea where I was. Eventually I found my way over to my apartment, cleaned myself up, then tried to contact you, you didn’t answer, and I went over to your apartment, and went inside searching, and there you were, passed out on the floor next to a wheelchair, covered in blood.
The stains are still on the floor in the hallway.” she said in reply. I finally am able to walk on my own, and I walk over to the door to my bathroom. “I’m going to clean myself up,” I say. She nods, and do exactly what I said.
Chapter Five
Walking out of the bathroom, cleaned up, and in a clean pair of clothes, and I see Clara sitting on the couch. “We should do this again,” I say, “What, get shot and nearly die?” “Yep, I thought it was a pretty fun experience.” “Definitely, I absolutely loved being shot at. I was really fun.” she said sarcastically.
After that day, we started hanging out more often, then it became a relationship. It wasn’t what I originally planned,  actually, I have feelings for her, I’m not just in this to take money from her.
4 months later…
Finally, a somewhat happy life. Not true happiness, but joy, yeah, joy is what I've been feeling lately. Relationship gone well is what I would call it. Today, Clara wanted to meet at a coffee shop. She sounded serious, with a bit of sadness. I rode over to where she wanted to meet, and as I walked over to the entrance, I saw here. She didn’t look exactly normal, she was staring down at the table, pain in her eyes. She looked like she was about to break out sobbing. As I walk in the door, she nearly jumps up, jerked her head up, and looked at me. Our eyes met, I walk over to the table, in the corner of the room.
Everything started to darken, look less and less joyful, more... Truthful. How everything was before I met her. Could I only feel that something wrong had happened. Something, in which I won’t be able to fix. As I approach the table, she looks at the chair, and back down at the table. Pulling the chair out, almost breaking the already broken chair, and sit down. The feeling of sadness comes over me. We just sit the for a moment, she just continues to stare at the table. I look directly at the top of her dark brown, nearing black hair, unbrushed, dirty. She slowly looks up, and stares directly into my eyes. “I- I’ve been offered a job,” she says, “That’s great, right?” “No,” she replies, “It’s across the country.”
“Well,” “I- I’m happy for you,” why is this affecting me, as badly as it is? I’ve only known this person for a couple of months. We’ve been together for shorter. Why? Why can’t I just let go of this. She continues to go on, but me not paying attention. Me not being able to hear, pay attention to anything else.
My mind can’t stop looming over the fact that I will never be able to see her again. I don’t know why I’m taking this, the way that I am. I guess, that it’s just that. I’ve never been closer to anyone else. I’ve never understood someone as much as I do her. It already feels like she’s gone, like she’s not here anymore. But, images of her still pop up n my mind when my eyes shut, I can hear her talking. Except, it’s like she’s  speaking in a different language. Finally, I am able to break out of my own thoughts.
“I have to take this job, I can’t keep living like this, in this place,” she said.
“Yeah,” “I have to go, I don’t have any other choice.” “I understand,”
“Maybe, maybe I’ll see you again sometime. I’m sorry, but I have to do this.” She gets up, and walks away. I sit there, staring into an abyss, looking into darkness. Zoning out of life, out of reality. Then, I feel a tear. Drop from my eye. A single tear. I’ll never see her again, she won’t be coming back. Ever. The rest of that day is a blurr. All I can recall, is walking back to my apartment, and throwing myself into my bed. Hoping to go to sleep, and not wake up again.
Chapter Six
It’s been a couple of weeks.  Not once leaving my apartment. Barely leaving my bed. The same thoughts consume me. The same feeling of being alone. Not being able to have a reason. Not being able to decide on what to do. I hate, this feeling. I hate myself, not being able to move on. Not being able to let go. My thoughts are consuming me. You’re nothing without her. I can’t let go. You’re worthless. You shouldn’t be alive. You’re a disgrace to society. You. should. Die. The thing that scares me, isn’t the fact that I want to die. It’s the fact that I am not scared of those thoughts, the fact that I can’t seem to let go of those thoughts. This all might be confusing to you, but you will have to live it to understand it. I can’t even find a reason to get out of bed.
I haven’t eaten in days. My electric is turned off, my phone is cut off. My water has just been turned off. I have nothing, but a few pairs of clothes, and a couple of blankets and pillows. No one has come for me, asking why I haven’t been at work, why no one has seen me. No one cares. Not a single person. The only person that has come to my apartment, is my landlord.
Screaming that he’ll kick me out, but me never responding. I am only believing that I will only be alone from now, to the day I die. Now,  my only friend is silence. Something uncommon in today's world. Uncommon where I live. Everything and everyone is always too busy for everything. Too busy to acknowledge silence. People don’t understand how lonely it can be when you’re alone. To understand that some people are hurting, most people have become too selfish. Too self consuming. But who can blame them? Each day, people are fighting for their lives, not being able to, and not being able to take the time and get to know someone. I can’t keep living like this. I unable to find a reason to get up out of bed. What am I supposed to do? What part of my life is fulfilling? I can’t keep living like this. I don’t think I can keep Living. I’m tired. I’m tired of living.
Chapter Seven
People dream. I’m not talking about the kind when you are unconscious. But your hopes. What you want to become, what you will someday try to achieve, your goals in life. Each day, people dream. Wanting more in life. Something that will help them achieve dignity, self worth. Some people don’t achieve their dreams. Some people don’t do what they always wanted to do. I’ve always wanted to be happy. To have self worth, and pride in what you do and become. But sometimes, dreams don’t come true. Some don’t always get that opportunity. Some can’t handle the pain of nearly achieving that goal. Coming so close, but it all comes crashing down, right in front of them. Me, I can’t handle that kind of pain. I don’t think I will be able to live the rest of my life. I’ll die tomorrow. Right when the sun rises. I’ll go out, and jump off of the bridge.
The next day…
I get out of bed, and open my door. I walk down the hall to the elevator, leaving the door wide open. What’s the point of closing it? There is nothing valuable, nothing of worth.
There never was. As I reach the bottom floor, I walk outside, past the front desk, passing people, no one even looking up at me, no one noticing me. Walking outside, as the brisk winter air pushes against my face. I brush past hundreds of people, looking busy, sleep deprived. I travel down the heavily crowded sidewalk, brushing past hundreds of people. I pass the bus stop just past the abandoned farmacy. The bus just arriving. I cross the street over to the bridge, just past the coffee shop where Clara and I had our first date. Walking up to the highest point of the bridge, I see a couple. Walking down the other side, talking.
They look happy, they look complete together. I look back, staring at the ground. My remaining energy has been lost. I walk over to the side of the bridge. And I stare. I stare at the waves and current of the river, crashing against each other, crashing against the side of the peer. As I am about to leap off, I hear a voice.
“Hello mister,” It’s a little girl. She looks filled with hope. Living, as life goes on. “Hello there,”
“How come your out here alone?” “I don’t have anywhere else to be,” “You look hungry,” she pulls out a lollipop. “Would you like this?”
“No thank you, but thank you very much though. Where are your parents?” I ask her, “I don’t have parents anymore, my grandma said that they went to a very special place though, it’s very, very far away, called heaven. Grandma said that heaven is where you go, after a loooong time of living, you go there if you’ve been a good person,”
“Your grandmother sounds like a great person,” “Oh, she is, she once-” she’s pulled away with a sudden jerk, it’s her grandmother. “Let’s go sweety,” she says, glaring at me. After a while of just standing there, I just fall down, I haven’t jumped yet, I have the strength to stand back up, but I just sit there. Thinking. About everything my life has become, everything about what future lives will become of, like that little girl’s. She seemed so happy. Living in a world yet so cruel. Her parents dead, living in an extremely poor part of this city. Yet she still seemed to be happy. I just sit there. Thinking. Then, I don’t know what happened, but I just gave up. I layed there. And cried. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. That sadness overwhelming me, the depression rising up inside of me. Why can’t I be happy? Why can’t I find that ray of hope that everyone is seemingly to have. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take living. I stand up, and just throw myself off of the ledge. Right as I do it, Clara’s screaming voice starts to play in my left ear. Her face as beautiful as ever, with a strand of brown-as-dirt hair almost covering her right eye, freckles scattered all around her face, misty blue eyes with a touch of green, and still wearing that busted up jacket.
She’s better without me. One lonely tear slides down my face as an entire army roles down hers. My eyes focus on her until the bridge blocks her out, and then a shadow goes over me. It's Clara. Then, I am slammed into the water, being washed away. Everything that I have become, everything that I could have become, washed away. Washed away in a sea of sadness, a sea of truth, but at least not the sea of loneliness. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but my thoughts ought to be the ones that kill me. END