The Roma (part 1)

Will meets Katia in a rather unpleasant situation.

Will walked down the side street, moving to avoiding shattered glass after it nearly cut his toe off. He hefted the coin purse he’d just lifted; another catch this size might grant him some cheap shoes. Boredom clawing at him"though that could very well have been hunger"he stopped by a dumpster and peeked inside. No newspapers were on top, and he didn’t feel up to a prolonged search. He kicked a cobblestone, then looked around as an idea struck him.

 

            He set the purse down in the space under the loose cobblestone, and positioned it slightly turned so he’d remember. He’d never been so rich, and wanted to remain that way; his money was spread around the West Sector, and it wasn’t an amount to scoff at for a street rat.

 

            Following the direction of his stomach, he made his way to the next street, the one yielding the most profit lately. Because the emerging fruit vendors drew crowds of careless people, stealing there was tempting but risky, as there were more patrolling guards. But Will was feeling lucky, and headed out for something to eat for the day.

 

            As they could hardly give chase, he often looked for the heavier vendors. He headed toward the first one he saw, who looked to be selling apples and other fruits. Will felt a tightness in his stomach and practically drooled at the sight, not having seen, let alone eaten, an apple in years. The North orchards must have had a good year.

 

            He approached the scowling man with some degree of confidence; he’d created an actual plan in the few seconds it took to reach him.

            “How much?” Will inquired, holding up a large apple with shaking hands. From hunger, eagerness or nervousness he couldn’t tell.

 

            The man squinted suspiciously, twisting his face and looking more like the pig he so closely resembled. “A jot,” he said, blatantly overpricing what was worth two pennies at best. “Off with you if you can’t afford it, go on.”

 

            Will grinned. “That’s no way to treat a customer,” he said, tossing the apple hard at the man. As he scrambled to catch it, Will slipped a small, slightly bruised apple under his jacket and walked quickly but casually away.

 

            Safely clear, he breathed a sigh of relief and happiness as he pulled his prize to his mouth"just as a shout came from behind him. Not bothering to turn around, he took a bite and fled, dropping the apple with reluctance. As he looked back to see his pursuers, a little girl darted across the road and scooped up the apple, narrowly flitting out of a guard’s path. Will’s smile for the girl quickly faded as he saw the guard’s speed, and he pushed the milling crowd out of his way, zigzagging around them as swiftly as he could.

 

            The guard’s hand was on his sword, a bad sign so late in the day. By this time, patrols nearly always arrested rather than just issuing warnings. Will darted into an alley, turning onto another street quickly. He was running out of breath, and dashed into an apartment’s doorway, pressing himself flat against the wall. Holding his breath, he resisted the impulse to close his eyes and waited for the guard to come.

 

            Iron clicked quickly against the stone of the street, and Will waited with bated breath. The red and blue uniform flashed quickly by, and Will’s tensed muscles immediately relaxed.

 

            He waited a minute before slowly creeping out of his crammed hiding place, smiling a little as he turned in the opposite direction. Something clicked behind him, and he spun around with terror to meet the guard’s smug smile. “Thought so,” he said, and grabbed Will by the shoulder.

 

            Will froze as he was roughly turned around, standing dumb and still while cold metal was slung around his wrists. He breathed a sigh of momentary relief when he felt the padlock snap; a sword to his neck was as likely as arrest.

 

            “I wouldn’t think I was so lucky,” said the guard with a knowing smile. “You’ll be hung by morning.”

 

 

 

            The hallway was too dark for Will to see much, especially being marched so quickly past the cells. What he could see was decidedly filthy, not that he wasn’t used to that. He’d just expected the prison to be less.. slimy.

 

The warden stopped by a cell numbered 64, its door open and uninviting. Before he could react, Will found himself pressed against the cold stone wall as the warden removed the chains from his wrists. Without a word, the man unceremoniously pitched him headfirst into the cell.

 

Will stumbled, then fell onto his hands and knees.  The guard’s smirking image was silhouetted in the hallway’s dim light as the door swung closed. He scrambled toward it, the realization of his dire situation finally sinking in. With its heavy slam before he reached it, the only light was through the tiny barred window in the door. Even that was far too dim for Will to make out the dimensions of his cell, and he felt panic begin to rise in his throat.

 

He spun frantically a few times, trying to get his bearings through a haze of hyperventilation and panic. He’d never been in a position quite so bad, and couldn't get himself to think clearly without a plan. Forcing himself to calm down, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Just check the walls, he thought, and proceeded to do so, feeling much better with at least some semblance of direction.

 

He found nothing besides a handful of spiders. After an indeterminable length of time in the stifling room, he stood dejected, dirty, and disheartened. He let his legs go weak and flopped to the ground, fighting a yell of frustration. Well, who would hear him, anyway? Murderers and criminals. He sat up and screamed, as loud and long as he could with one breath.

 

With the echoes of his desperation ringing from the stone, he collapsed with his arms spread wide and closed his eyes.

Author's Note

Not in order with other chapters, the second part of this is up!