If that day did not end so abruptly I would have tried to end my life once again.

I think it was the blue outfits and the mustaches that triggered my fight or flight response and let me tell you, I was flying. I ran though two couples, tripped over my shoelaces about seven times, and almost ran over a poor seagull before I slowed in hopes that they didn’t follow me.

I sighed in relief when there was nobody behind me, “Yeah, who could have guessed… Missed out on your recent cardio lessons, did you?” I croaked out, hands on my knees, bending over like some old man waiting for a poke up the ass.

The rain was heavy and cold which was the only thing that stopped me from getting dizzy and blacking out.

And just then, I heard that duck-like, annoying voice of someone who wants to get beaten, “Don’t even try to run.” When I turned towards the noise, I expected about one or two people. Well, there were about a dozen. I slowly but surely started backing up, my hands in the air, and when I finally backed into a tree I sprinted away as quickly as I could.

I jumped over the park’s fence, and in my landing I knocked the “Don’t climb!” sign down. Probably broke it too. The guys were running after me and they seemed about ready to kill me if they had to chase for too long. Just another Friday afternoon.

I dashed into an alleyway and climbed the trashcan to reach the top of the brick wall behind it. I staggered, one of the boys had a knife on him, and he threw it at me. It slammed into the thrash about a foot away and I thanked him for his clumsiness. They tried pulling my leg so I kicked them in the face, jumped, and vanished behind the other side of the wall. I didn’t land on anything soft, my legs almost gave out underneath me, but I was used to it by now.

The church. The tiny, nameless church near Neshota Park. They helped anyone and everyone they could, offering food and shelter. Unless you weren’t white, then they only kept you around as a slave. I haven’t thought about just how much I hate this place in a while. I felt completely grossed out.

The backyard of this church was well-kept and pretty, but every time I see it I remember that there are at least ninety teeth buried in the ground.

The next thing my senses caught onto was a familiar, hearty laugh. I looked up and saw a tall, athletic guy in front of me, and you better guess I collapsed. Damien laughed louder and landed me a hand as I tried to control my heavy breaths, “Blake, you know I normally don’t judge, but you look like shit. What’s going on?”

“Do you have a spare blanket?” I asked, and he only gave me a sympathetic mouth twitch in response.

“I don’t get why you don’t come and work at the church. It’s not so bad… Plus, I know you’d figure out all the ways to get around the rules,” He shoved his jacket into my hands, which I put on as he shared his tiny umbrella with me. We headed towards the streets.

“I’d rather die, sorry.”

Damien’s shrugs always seemed more and more hopeless whenever I saw them. That time, he even added a frown to it. It was an alarming sign that we would not be friends for much longer, and no matter how much I awaited that, I knew that I’d miss his company.

“Why were you running though? Did someone chase you?”

“Oh, yeah. I thought I saw some cops and then ran into Andrew’s little rats. They are such… Did you know the police don't even pay them anymore? They want to fuck me over for the sake of it… I wasn’t even doing anything…”

I was searching for a cover of some sorts or something that could be used as one. I tried the bigger trash cans, but I found little more than cardboard boxes and a small container full of stale grilled cheese. I’m not that desperate.

I sat down in the gloomy alley beside some ketchup bottles and contemplated the meaning of my existence. As I was getting – almost, just almost – philosophical, it started raining. The clouds were pouring it down like it was mandatory.

“The second I stepped out of the alley I was met with two pairs of eyes and a uniform, and by the time my brain fully processed who it was I was already sprinting in the opposite direction, and just who do I meet? Them,” I told Damien.

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The walk was mostly silent after that, but the guy seemed content enough to smile. When we reached the gate I gave him his jacket back. It took him by surprise, but I don’t think he wanted me to keep it. He covered me from the nuns walking around by standing in front of me as he whispered, “There’s a big party tonight, you know. Some snobby students managed to get the old factory free. The Jacobs twins I think. You wanna go?”

“You’re invited?” I questioned, raising my eyebrows. Not many students here were ever seen hanging with Damien – or any African-American kids for that matter, because let’s not lie, I tell by the way they look at him – not in this elite high and mighty school of inbred capitalistic idiots… I was glad I never set foot in that building.

“Of course I'm not.”

I asked if there was booze and when he nodded I responded with a confident “Yes.”

The factory itself was basically in ruins. Nobody knows what they used it for before it became pure scrap metal, but as long as it's standing it'll be one of the most dangerous places near the town. Since it has a semi-functional roof and tiny rooms amids huge ones, dealers love to use it as a trading point. Sometimes it even becomes a gang hideout for a few weeks, at least until one of them trips and dies, then they move on.

It didn’t even take a proper moment for me to completely lose Damien amongst the crowd. He usually can’t go to parties because the nuns smell the alcohol on him way too easily, those women are like hounds. They always threaten to kick the dude out for everything… I don’t know how he takes it this well.

I didn’t bother to look for him, I sat down on a smaller couch for a moment. I did not see anyone familiar, which was good. I let out a sigh of relief.

The whole place was thrashed and decorated in graffiti and yellow vomit, I have no idea how the others took it without whining. There was a huge saw in the middle of the room, disabled but still definitely dangerous, and many, many syringes I did not want to be near.

While I was observing, some girls sat down next to me, smelling of tequila and something else I wasn’t sure I recognized. They giggled maniacally until one of them – shorter, curly hair and something about them that made me question if they were a girl, – turned towards me and asked me if I had a lighter. They seemed surprised for a second when they saw my face, I didn’t think anything of it but they stared so intensely it became quite unsettling… Their eyes were so distant in the purple lighting and I swear, for a second they seemed like a completely different person from the one who turned towards me.

I handed them my lighter, and they smiled at me. For a second – only a second – I saw vines creep up to their face. I was pretty sure I was hallucinating. The girls all got up and walked away with my lighter, and I was left sitting there alone. I preferred that over whatever this encounter was.

I grabbed a drink that was lying around on the glass table and started drinking the contents of it, hoping it was spiked. I suddenly felt a wave of pain, thrashing my insides, mostly my mind. It wasn't the drink, no, I'm certain of it. I don't know anything that could cause this kind of pain this quickly. I lost sense of where I was in a second, feeling woozy and nauseous. Flashes of different rooms I did not recognize came into my mind, assortments of crystals, wildflowers and clovers all around. Or maybe just in one big cluster… No, multiple. It was more than confusing, I tried to close my eyes, rub my head a little, but it did nothing.

The music was way too loud and my head was not okay with it, so I let myself out to the balcony. There were cigarettes on the floor, all of them in perfect condition, so I took one. "Your lighter, you idiot… I need to get some of those vitamins or whatever from the chem store, I swear…" I smiled before standing up, hoping to find someone with a lighter who won't stab me with a broken glass for asking. "Or maybe I could steal one," I presented myself with the idea.

I almost tripped on my shoelaces in the meantime, so – for the first time in a few weeks – I tied them and just as I was about to stand up I was hit in the face with the door.

“Ow! What the–”

I reached for my nose. It didn’t hurt that much, and it wasn't bleeding either, at least not that I could tell. The guy that hit me scrunched his face when he saw me and I swear it seemed like fear or suspicion. He reached for my face but I avoided his hands and left quickly – if he recognized me from somewhere, I did not want him anywhere near me. He could be from my hometown, or the orphanage, or… Wherever, it doesn't matter, I simply needed to get away… I slithered away and opened a random door in the halls.

I found myself in the bathroom with a bunch of “manly man dudes” who were eating curry from a half-eaten melon, probably as high as Mount Everest. They stared at me in awkward silence in their 70$ jackets and gray sweatpants until I slowly backed away, closing the door on them. Honestly, I was bummed out. Parties like this were never my scene, the only reason I accepted Damien’s offer was because these assholes usually have a lot of expensive alcohol and, well, drugs.

The guy from the balcony came after me. I was not a stranger to the idea of quite literally dashing out of the factory and never coming back again, but this time I was really about to do it. If he hadn't grabbed me I would have punched him and ran. His hand was firm on my shoulder but he did not look that intimidating. He was scared, I was sure of it. I could have intimidated him by taking one single step towards him, I know he would have let me go, but I froze. I don't know what it was but he looked at me with such recognition that I felt guilty. Guilty, because I did not know him at all. He looked at me like I was his lost puppy that he finally found after who knows how many years, and to me he was just some guy.

Before I could ask him who he was, I felt my head throb at an unusual intensity. I tried to find a place to sit down but the floor was my only option, I could barely see two feet away because of the damn lights. I felt like my brain was being poked by tiny needles that twisted and turned inside my head.

“Blake? Blake?” I heard a voice. It sounded distant as it echoed through my mind, and I was getting dizzier and dizzier. My head turned in all kinds of directions, too heavy for my neck to hold up, “What’s up with you? Had too much to drink?” A laugh, and another… Meanwhile, my eyelids were dropping.

“Let’s get you to the couch, and I’ll be back in a second. Come on…” I was sat down on that fancy white fake-leather sofa and what I wanted the most was to vomit on it. The older one on the other side was better, and in my haziness I tried to switch places, but failed miserably and sat on the floor again. I could tell that everyone was laughing at me even in this state. I was hurt, and I wanted it to stop. What was laughable about that?

I heard a new voice then, a crisp one that was surprisingly less threatening than the rest. I did not hear what it said, as static silence filled my ears. I leaned towards it and blacked out, feeling tired.