I let out a tense, shuttering sigh as I tie an old, white bandana around my face. I take a look around the decrepit gas station bathroom. I check my jacket and grip the pistol inside, making sure it was secure. Hell, I don't even know what brand or model it is. "I've really done it this time, haven't I?" I chuckle to myself. I turn to walk to the door and look in the mirror as I pass. I spot my black jacket and long, unkempt brown hair tied into the fabric, but not much else. My face is covered, I place a hand on the stall door, first checking to make sure the knot of the musky cloth covering my face is secure. I open the door, walk through, and draw my weapon with shaky hands. I run a few yards to the counter and shove the barrel of the gun in the cashier's face and scream "Hands in the air!" I scream at the young cashier. Instantly her eyes widen and she obeys the orders given. "Now," I grab a paper bag from the counter and present it to her, "Money, right now!" I keep my gun aimed at her now crying face as she shuffles the sweet, green, paper gold into the bag. I take a nervous glace around the station. Clear. I turn back to the tear soaked face of the cashier and a brown bag full of money. Looking into her eyes, I feel sorrow. But it had to be done. I roll the bag up, force it into my jacket and sprint out the door, away from the awful screeches that were sure to come.
I took a left and ran down an alley, my grimy sneakers speeding across the craggly black ground. I take the chance and bury the pistol back into my jacket, thankful that I didn't have to use it. The cool autumn wind nipping at my face and burning my nose. I continue running along, ignoring the now very sharp pain in my side, until I noticed there were footsteps other than mine in that gimy, narrow strip the city. Multiple pairs of them. I stop and pull out my pistol, expecting to see policemen or some good semaritan, waiting for me to lose my breath and arrest me. I turn around and aim the firearm around, and see kids that look about my age.
"Yo, man. We don't want no trouble." a blonde kid says, holding his hands in the air. Some followed suit, but others simply stopped in their tracks. In all there were seven of them. All young, mid-teens to early-twenties.
"Look," the kid with fair hair started, "we saw what you did back there." I immediately aimed to him, and his eyes went wide. He didn't speak after that. But a dark skinned guy filled in for him.
"Yeah, as he said, no trouble." he began, his voice deep and bold. "But we was wonderin' what your name was. You see, we've been looking for a way to make some cash ourselves. Ain't many chances these days for folk like us, y'know?"
Thinking on my toes, I spout out, "Rat. M-my name's Rat." The muscles in my body loosen up, and I lower the gun, but keep it ready.
"Rat? As in like, sewer rat?" a bald boy from my left asked in a sarcastic tone.
"Yeah, what about it?" I take my bandana off, letting my hair down and revealing my slim, stubbled face. I run my finger's through my hair and let out a long, stressed sigh. "So, money right? What do I have to do with that?"
"Well, seeing as you just robbed that there gas station," a dark haired guy spoke, "we was thinking maybe we could make an arrangement."
"I'm listening, but I'm not giving you any of mine. I need it." My hand reaches into my pocket clutching the bag tightly.
"Nah, nah, man. We was just wonderin' if maybe you'd wanna join us in some certain activities seein' as to what you just, uh, did back there." the dark haired kid spoke, again.
"Um, I-I don't know. Let me think about that, but the answer's probably going to be no anyway." at that moment, the terrifying sound of policecar sirens filled the air, echoing off of the buildings. "M-meet me in the park tomorrow, on second street! Noon!" I yell behind me as I turn and dash away from the distant, dreadful sounds.
I run and run and don't look back, that'd just slow me down. The sirens have stopped, but I'm still too close to the gas station to rest. So I run. Faster and harder than I ever had before. I again tuck the gun into my belt, and continue on. The whole time I'm running, I think of those kids back there, and can't help but think, "Fuck, did I really just agree to talk to those thugs?" Though I guess I really can't judge them. Hours pass as I run, away from the station. I finally stop a few blocks from my house, in an alleyway. I haven't heard or seen a cop in a while now.
I slump back against the hard brick wall and slide down into a sitting position. Reachng into my jacket, I pull out the thickly rolled bag and take stock. As I'm counting the moeny, my mouth literally begins to water thinking of all the food we could buy with this. We'd have to buy at discount stores, of course, but it's still more than we've had in weeks. I pull my wallet out of my pocket and neatly slip each and every bill inside, and keep the change in my pocket. I take my bandana out of my jacket and throw it into a nearby dumpster. I turn the corner, walking to the discount grocer. Different genres of music fill my ears as I walk along the busy, dark sidewalk. Hip-hop, metal, blues, jazz. I see a girl with electric blue hair listening to some kind of electronic music, bobbing her head slowly to the beat. The music soothes me after all that happened today, and I find myself soon humming the rythm to myself.
I reach the store and walk in. The familiar hum of flourescent lights fills the air, and I'm happy to be out of the cold air. I grab a shopping basket from my left and walk to the deli section and the aroma of meat fills my system. I grab a few essentials, such as ground beef, bread, milk, water, and some snacks to treat the kids to. By the time I was done, my basket was overflowing with bundles of mouthwatering nourishment. I paid at the counter and walked home. Taking shortcuts through narrow alleys and silent backroads, I got there just before my sibling's bedtimes. I walk in, carrying the basket of food, instantly my brother and sister's eyes begin to shimmer and their mouths water. I place the basket on a grimy kitchen table and begin to unpack the contents. Pride fills me as I see the two eagerly eyeing the banquet that I set out for them.
I hand them each a muffin and begin to prepare our dinner. When the meal was ready, the aroma of freshly fried beef, mac-and-cheese, and mashed potatoes. We all grabbed a water and I laid their plates out for them, even one for my mother, although I knew she wouldn't be coming home tonight. She was out "paying the bills", as she told us. But I knew exactly what that meant.
My mother forced herself into prostitution after my father overdosed on heroin three years ago. I wasn't even sad when he died, he would abuse us. One day, he dragged me out of my room from my neck because I had forgotten to throw away a sandwich wrapper. Anyway, I was okay with my mother's "work plan" at first, because I understood that we needed the money. But now she's hardly ever home, and when she is, she's just sleeping or getting doped up on various drugs. She pisses her money away, buying crack or meth. I'm the only hope that my family has now, and that's why I did what I did.
I let my brother and sister shower and get ready for bed. It was late. Very late. They had school tomorrow, and I wanted them to go. I had robed myself of that opportunity when I realized my mother wouldn't be able to hold us together. "Goodnight, Matt." my sister pipped as I was closing her door. She was so innocent and sweet. Eleven years old, doesn't even know what weed is. I wanted to keep it that way for a while. Innocence isn't a common thing in this part of town. "Goodnight, Lucia." I chimed, in the sweetest tone I could muster, much like my mother used to do for me. "I love you."
I close the door and go to say goodnight to my fourteen year old brother, Steven. I walk into his room and see him laying on laying on his bed, reading a novel. "Whatcha readin'?" I ask him, making a short conversation before bed. I lean my head down, catching a glimpse of what the book is titled. How To Definitely NOT Join a Gang: For Dummies. I chuckle as I walk to his bed and plop down onto it. "At least he's doing alright for himself." I mumble to myself.
"What was that?" he asks, breaking concentration from his reading.
"Oh, nothing," I smile at him, and he returns the gesture. "It's time for bed, dude. You have school tomorrow." I remind him.
"Aww, come on. Do I have to go to school?" he whines, but he knew what my answer would be.
"Absolutely. Come on, Steve. I got us food today, least you can do is go to school for me. I'll be busy trying to get us more money and food." I told him, hoping for him to comply. He bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded in understanding. "That's my boy." I grin at him and gently grab the book, laying it on his bedside table, and stand up from the bed. "Goodnight, bro. I love you." Unlike my sister, I regarded my brother as if he were my age, rather than if he were my child. I turned to walk out of the room, flicked the light switch, and left the door open just a crack, my brother didn't like the dark much. I barely hear him say goodnight as I trudge on to my room, the only room with it's own bathroom.
I open my door and look around at the poster, photo, and painting covered walls. I see a few family portraits, before my father starting drugs and abusing us. God, how I miss those days. But they're behind me now. I pull the pistol out of my belt and store it under my matress. I tuck the rest of the money away in my drawer and walk to my bathroom to shower before bed. I take my clothes off and push my shoulder-length hair out of my face. I pull back the shower curtains and step inside, turning the water spigot and activating the hot water. I grab a bar of soap and start to wash my body. And immediately my thoughts go to the day that had passed.
"So, those kids want me to form some sort of gang with them," I snicker, thinking of my brother's book. "Well, as I told them it's probably going to be a no, unless they really do convince me. Which'd be pretty damn hard." I speak as if there was another person in the shower with me. But I'm alone. "Well, would it be worth the risk? I mean, they're pretty strict about gangs in Baltimare and I hadn't really planned on doing things like this on a regular basis." I squeeze some shampoo into my hands and bring it to my head, scrubbing it into my hair. "But they're just kids!" Although I'm not older, the rabble had a sense of immaturity about them that didn't settle well with me. I walk out of my shower and dry myself off with a nearby towel. I pick up a pair of loose fitting shorts on my way to bed.
I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling, running all the pros and cons through my head before I fall to sleep. After for what felt like an eternity, I finally decide, "I'm going to see what they offer, and I'll decide then." I turn over, trying to get into a comfortable position to sleep and at that moment my alarm went off, signaling that it was time to wake the kids for school. I reluctantly rise from my comfortable position and trudge into the kitchen.
I pour two bowls of cereal for my siblings and walk off to wake them. "Luce, it's time to wake up." I call in a sing-song voice. "Time for school." I stand there for a few seconds, making sure she heard. When I saw her tiny frame start to shift, I walk down the hall to wake my brother. "Come on, dude. School time." I call to him, in a kind tone. As his figure stirred, I walked down the hall to my mother's room. I open the door and peek my head inside, expecting to find her sleeping. She still wasn't home, I let out a weary sigh as I close her room door.
I walk back into the kitchen and see my brother and sister, nearly ready for the day. My sister hadn't combed her hair yet, but she still had about thirty minutes before their bus arrived. I poured myself a bowl of cereal that was some kind of cinnamon flavor shaped into squares, it was delicious. I start a batch of coffee after I finish drinking the remaining milk in my cereal. I check my watch and wince when I see the time. 7:23 AM. I rush the kids out of the door and sit on our front steps as I wait for their bus to arrive. Once it does, they turned and waved a goodbye to me, and went on their way.
I walk back into my apartment and pour a cup of the freshly brewed coffee. I add cream and sugar and drink it as I watch the morning news. There was the weather forcast, which was gladly sunny skies with low winds. I smile to myself as I picture walking in that weather. I sat there for thirty minutes, learning about pointless topics, such as a blind dog that won a championship dog show or anything else of that genre before I hear the anchor say. "The local 'Hoofin' It' gas station was robbed last night," I immediately begin to panic and pull my hair. Leaning in to hear every word the woman said, as if there was a chance I could stop her. She then looked to her paper on her sleek desk. "It's actually been robbed eight times this fall." I wince as she spoke, expecting her to identify me. Then go wide eyed as she said that.
Sighing deeply as a tremendous swarm of relief runs me over, I slouch in my seat. "At least there's that," I chuckle to myself. I walk to the table that the kids ate their breakfast at and pick up their bowls, taking them to the kitchen to wash along with my coffee mug. At that moment I hear tires come to a stop outside of my window, a car door open and close, and the withdrawing sound of an engine speeding away. "There she is." I check my watch. 8:49 AM Walking to the door to greet my mother, I set a bowl out on the table and the box of cereal.
Opening the door, I see the pale, gaunt frame of my mother wearing a skirt with a light jacket on, heels, and ruffled hair. He eyes were deep and dark from the lack of sleep and use of drugs. "Morning, mom." I call with false cheer and a cheesy smile. "Rough night?" I chuckled, jokingly.
"Shut the fuck up, you little prick!" she yelled in a cranky tone and shoved me aside, walking to the table, picking up the box of cereal. "Who the hell bought this shit? I know it wasn't you, you're worthless." she yelled, pouring it into her bowl.
"I got a loan from a friend, spent it on groceries." I shrugged, casually. I don't know why I waste my hopes waiting for her to be of pleasant company. She sat, eating her cereal and me watching the news. Once she was done eating, she stood up, trudging to her room and slamming the door. I continue with my daily activities until I remembered the meetup with the kids today. I frantically check my watch as it reads. 11:21 "Shit," I say under my breath, standing up to go to my room. I take a quick shower and get dressed. Wearing my jacket, some brown faded jeans and my shoes. Tucking my pistol into my belt, I start walking out the door, still weighing my options as I walk down the several flights of stairs.
I reach the bottom and push through the doors, jogging down the street and trying to remember the quickest route to the park. I checked my watch again and it read 11:49 Quickening my pace, I soon arrive on second street. I then checked my watch again. 11:53 I then sprint the rest of the way to the park, trying not to be late. I checked my watch again as I arrived. 12:13 "Why is this street so fucking long?" I mutter, walking into the park. I see the small group of boys from yesterday facing away from me near some benches, with a few more people with them. A few more guys and two girls, one with pink hair and the other with deep red.
I walk up to them from behind and speak in a calm voice, "I'm here, guys. Name's Rat." I smile, holding my hand out for a handshake as all their heads turn to see me. "Nice to meet you all."