Runaway

A Story by DownTheDrain

So here it is. I sat in the alley adjacent to my house and lit a cigarette. Had about a half a pack left, but another full one at home. So it was good. When people walked by, I knew what they were thinking. I don't care to share it now, but trust me: I knew. They thought thoughts imperceptible to the common observer. But I'm not common... Alright, I can't read minds. But I can try.

So this is an alley I went to frequently, but something was different about it this time. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Maybe it seemed a little colder this time. Not the temperature, but the general feel of it. It felt far more impersonal than in past nights. I know what you're thinking: "How can an alley be personal to begin with?" But trust me, when you find a place thats personal- you stick with it. Don't matter if it's an alley. It's better than nothing.

I sat perched on a short wall of bricks. Not more than a couple feet high. The bricks were a section of a disheveled planter, holding back mounds of dirt. A home to weeds and lifeless vines. Cigarette butts scattered the area. There was no doubt in my mind that a significant fraction of them belonged to me, but who knows? Maybe they were somebody elses. Maybe somebody else came here, too. Obviously at different times from me, but how presumptuous would I be to think that all the old smokes in some alley were mine? I'll tell you: pretty damn presumptuos.

But I digress. I'm only telling you all these details because I recall I was taking a particular stock of the area that night. I didn't know exactly how long it was gonna be before I was back there. I mean, I couldn't go home, so I wasn't gonna hang out in a damned alley a quarter mile from my house....didn't I tell you? Oh, I guess not. I was in a bit of a tiff with my folks and I couldn't go back home. It's not important why, but I left that place about an hour earlier, and I wasn't going back. I thought after a while maybe somebody would report me missing, call the cops to come look for me, but I didn't figure it'd be any time soon. Might as well have enjoyed my time before I had to go back.

Then it hit me: "Fuuuuuuuuuucccckkk!" What the hell was I thinking? I left my goddamn motherfucking other pack a cigarettes at home! Damnit! Oh, whatever. They're only cigarettes. But what was I thinking? I just left them there. Its not like I could just drop back in and say, "Oops! Guess I forgot something!" Eh. Whatever. I'd live. Still had some left in my old pack. Still had...seven left. How long was that gonna last? Not long. I could get more, though. Perhaps not easily, I'm only 16. Thing is, I didn't have any money. That was stupid. I was out on my own for what I figured would be a while, and I didn't bring money. I'm so stupid sometimes. I actually didn't bring that much. Actually, I didn't bring anything. Just the clothes on my back and seven cigarettes.

What the hell was I planning on doing? I mean, I couldn't really do anything. I probably shouldnt'a left. But whatever. I sure as hell wasn't gonna stay there. I mean, they told me to get out, so I did. Sure I didn't do it immediately, but I did it. Just took my time, is all.

None of that matters, though. All that mattered was my immediate situation. I had no money, nothing to do, and nowhere to go...and seven cigarettes. Six, now. I took another out and lit it up. It's funny how I could know that I only had a few left, but can still light up another, with no prospects of getting more. I took a long drag, held it in for a few seconds and exhaled. Alternating between my mouth and nostrils. I kind of laughed a little. I don't know why.

My mind kind of did a nose-dive and I shook my head. I had to think. Not about my cigarettes and not about where I came from. I needed to think about where I was going. I could always go stay at David's house. See, David's my friend and all, and he knew that I had a history of getting in trouble at home. He only lived a few blocks away, and he told me if I ever needed to, I could crash at his place. That was a comfort. I thought maybe I could take him up on that. Sure I'd have to sleep in his garage, but thats better than on the street. Or at least in my opinion it was.

Then it hit me again: David was outta town with his parents. F**k my life. There goes that plan. My supposed "friend" abandoned me. Some friend, huh? I didn't like him all that much anyway. He always did this one thing where he would bite his nails. It was f*****g disgusting. His nails were always so short they looked like they were about to bleed. I don't understand how someone can invest so much time biting their nails that they can get so short. It's revolting.

But whatever. F**k David. I had other friends... no. I didn't need them. I could make it on the streets. I've had enough experience. I mean, how much experience does it take? All you really need to know is not to keep your food in your tent.

That's the ticket. I could just rough it. I'd sleep in back alleys and bus stations. I'd make my own money. I didn't know how. I figured I could just get a bowl or something and do weird motions on the sidewalk. Maybe people would pity me and give me money. Pity's underrated in my estimation. I wouldn't need anybody. I mean, doesn't that really sound great? Being self-sufficient, I mean. Just being your own man and not having to worry about parents or family or teachers telling you that you didn't quite live up to their expectations or parents telling you that you could do better or parents telling you you should've tried harder or parents telling you you're not worth the effort or parents, in general. That really sounded good to me. It still does.

Whatever, though. I guess that all isn't really important. What difference does it make to you what sounds good to me? You don't care. Yeah, whatever. So I was still sitting there, wondering what to do. I pretty much had it figured out, I guess. I'd do whatever and get whatever value out of it. Looking back, I guess it was stupid. Before all the s**t with my parents went down and I left, I probably should've had some sort of plan of action. I never think things out in advance, though. Especially with the whole situation, this might be a dick thing to say, but I find that things are way better when you don't plan them out.

I'm getting really off-topic, though. Some people walked by the mouth of the alley. People had been walking by the past several minutes, but I hadn't really been paying attention. They were as cold as the alley, itself. They didn't care about my worries. They didn't care about my situation. They didn't care about me. But why should they? Nobody else does. Why should they be any different? They shouldn't.

People always go on and on about how much everybody should care about each other and how the world could be so much a better place, but honestly, can you tell me you wouldn't be creeped the f**k out if some random person came up to you and acted like you were their best f*****g friend? You'd pretend everything was okay and have your finger on the mace button within two seconds. People are hypocrites.

This is when things started to get interesting. Well I guess they could be considered interesting before, but this is when they seemed interesting to me. I'm kinda sitting there, not paying any attention to whats going on, and I hear this voice.

Wuttimeisit?

Nothingness.

Wuttimeisit?

Louder now.

WUTTIMEISIT!?

I looked up. There was a kid standing there. I stared at him. He stared at me. We stared at each other.

"What time it it?" the boy asked.

I kept staring at him. I don't know why I didn't really understand what was happening before. I felt a seering pain.

"Mister! Your hand!"

I looked at my hand. I hadn't puffed on the cigarette in a while and it had burned right through the filter and down to my hand. I kept looking at it for a minute. I really haven't the first clue why I didn't jump in shock and shake the cig from my grip. I just kept looking.

And looking.

Then I got hit again. I let out a mighty scream. The kid jumped back in fear. I stood up and ran around like a madman. The kid backed off considerably and looked a tad frightened, himself. After what seemed a few minutes, I settled down. I examined my hand. The flesh was burned through and I could see a red gooey layer of skin between the index and middle finger on my left hand. It hurt pretty bad at first but not so much anymore.

I heard a siren in the distance.

"Are you okay?" the kid asked.

"Yeah" I uttered. I probably wasn't very reassuring. But whatever. I didn't owe him anything.

"Oh, good...What time is it?"

The nerve. The sheer... unenviable... nerve. That little s**t just witnessed me sustain a potential life-threatening injury, and he had the gall to ask me the time. Sick f**k.

I just stared at him with a disgusted look on my face.

"You just witnessed me sustain a potential life-threating injury... and you have the gall to ask me the goddamn...motherfucking...TIME!?"

He looked at me a while.

"Well, I just wanted to know what time it was, is all. I'm really sorry. I didn't mean any-"

"Get. Lost."

He began walking backwards and stared at me like I was a horrible, scary person. I don't know what I did wrong. Maybe I was a bit harsh. He wouldn't go away.

"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have an extra cigarette?" he somehow gathered up the gumption to ask.

"GO AWAY!!!"

He finally got the message. He ran. Maybe it was the fact that after he asked if I had another smoke, I made like I was gonna chase him. It was funny in a way to watch him run. I started to thinking. Why would a little kid ask me for a cigarette? Come to think of it, he might not've been a little kid. He was one of those sorts where you wouldn't be surprised if their actual age was far different than how they looked. He could've been anywhere from 10 to 25 and I wouldnt've blinked. That kid...er...mystery...really creeped me out. People who you can't make a good guess at how old they are really get on my nerves. What makes them so special? Nothing. That's what.

A bit of a commotion started to stir after that. When that kid who asked me for a cigarette ran out towards the street and I made like I was gonna chase him, there was some people walking by who stood and stared at me. I just acted tough and stared back at 'em. I took some steps backwards and kept staring.

"WHAT?"

They all just kept standing and staring. A few of them shook their heads.

"This ain't a free show!"

I giggled.

"Well, what the f**k do you want!?"

Some of the people began to mill in the other direction and even looked a bit afraid. I didn't care. I love scaring people. They all think they're so f*****g high and mighty. It realy feels good to take them down a notch. But I guess I don't need to tell you that. But not all of 'em got the message. They broke their silence and winced at me to get a good look. A couple of men became wide-eyed and started mouthing out things to the others in the group. I heard some of them:

"Him...saw him...that one...earlier...the guy...did it...call...go...that guy"

So the mysterious man/boy ran across the street and knocked furiously on the door.

Ohhhhh s**t. He lived in plain view of where I verbally assaulted him. At least I think he lived there. Why else would he be knocking on the door? I guess it didn't matter. Somebody answered the door. It was a woman. She looked at him weird. I guess he didn't live there. He talked to her for a minute. Then she looked very alarmed and raised her eyes to where I was standing. She looked scared out of her mind. I don't know why... but I winked at her. In retrospect, maybe I shoudnt'a done that. It might've come off a tad creepy. I didn't care at the time, though. I do s**t like that all the time. Trouble is, I always pick the worst time.

So yeah, I winked. Then she raised her hand over her mouth in some dramatic fashion. It pisses me off when women are dramatic. They can never get over themselves. She ran back into her house and the cigarette-desiring man/boy stood on her front steps, glaring at me.

Now, you'd think those people at the mouth of the alley who were staring at me would've cleared out by now, but that was anything but the case. There were more now. A good twenty-five, thirty people stood there, conversing among themselves. I didn't know what they wanted, yet I did know. My perception felt heightened. It made me nervous.

I really didn't know what to do at this point. They were all just staring at me, treating me like a freak.

Everything was happening really fast.

There were two ends to this alley. It formed a right angle. There was the end which released to a reseidential street, which is where all these people were gawking from. And there was another end which opened to a busy street. I started to kind of back toward the access point a bunch of wide-eyed onlookers weren't convening at. That seemed to be the optimum plan. So I did. I slowly backed away before turning around to walk in the direction opposite of what had become a crowd.

There was a cry of: Don't let him get away!

It was all very dramatic. Too dramatic for my taste. If this was a book, I wouldn't read it. I mean, nothing I did was that bad. I got angry at a guy, nee, prick.. for bugging me when I was clearly thinking. And nothing more.

I heard that siren again. I got really nervous. They called the cops on me. The goddamn motherfucking cops. Those b******s. I couldn't believe it. The siren sound grew closer. The people got a sick look of satisfaction on their collective faces. Whatver shred of doubt I had in my mind that the siren was for me was gone. It was all over.

Things really started speeding up.

Eh, whatever. I had a good run. Freaked out a few people. I imagine I looked a bit confused at this point. My eyes got bigger and I started to backtrack, again. I walked backwards until I hit the short brick wall I was sitting on inititally. I stumbled onto it and took a seat. I swallowed and pulled out a cigarette. My hand trembled as I attempted to light it. I finally did, and took another long drag. I blew it out, and felt calm. I felt like everything was gonna be okay. I felt home.

The cops pulled up. They parked a few feet away. I wasn't nervous, though. I felt sustained. They got outta the car and approached me. Tightening their belts, all the way. Arrogant a******s.

"Aaron Chambliss?" they asked in a firm, yet caring tone.

"Who wants to know?"

God, I'm an idiot.

"The sheriff's department, son."

I didn't have a smartass response for that. I figured I might as well give in.

"Yeah, I'm Aaron Chambliss."

They grabbed me by the arm and turned me against the wall. Pulling out cuffs from their little utility belts.

"You're under arrest for suspicion in the murder of John and Nancy Chambliss."

Oh yeah, I killed my parents, just in case you didn't guess by now. They pissed me off too much and too long.

So they shoved me in the back of their little police car and here I am. Talking to you a******s.

I really need to make better choices.

I mean, I... eh...whatever. It's not like you care anyway...