I wouldn’t survive this time around, and with my phone’s power dying, I had a short amount of time to make a decision.
The sound of shoes scuffing on the cement beside me dragged me out of my downward spiral. The man from across the street was standing in front of me. I peered up at him out of my good eye, his shadowy outline daunting in my right. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe, as he crouched with a sneer.
He picked up a wrapped cookie from my box and held it up. “You gonna share this, pretty boy?”
I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt and raised my chin. “If you’d asked nicely, I might’ve.” I forced myself to my feet and ignored the fact that I had to look up at him when he stood, too. That was typical for me. “But now you can fuck off.”
The streets could be a dangerous place. I’d learned to take care of business here, but I didn’t always have the confidence to defend myself. This was one of those times where I had nothing left to lose. I didn’t have a job, a place to live, and I didn’t see a future. I was lost.
But I had fists.
The guy bared his teeth and jumped at me. He was heavier than I’d expected, and we went crashing to the cement. The back of my head rebounded off the sidewalk. I groaned as agony streaked through me, the shattering echo of pain starting at the impact site and shooting down my spine.
The guy bared down on me, his hands wrapping around my throat.
I shoved his face, pushing him back as hard as I could. My arms felt weak, days without a good meal making them boneless. His knee pressed into my chest. I struggled harder as his fingers curled into my neck, cutting off my air, and I gasped, a barrel offear and anxiety hitting me hard and fast. If this was my last day on earth, I wasn’t going without a fight.
I refused.
I wouldn’t be known as that homeless man who died over a stupid box of stale food.
Time to play dirty.
I punched him in the crotch as hard as I could. He went flying over my shoulder, slamming onto the ground beside me. He groaned as I rolled over and coughed. My chest burned, my heart raced, and my nerves were on fire. My fingers twitched as I smoothed them over my throat, where I was sure I had bruises already.
The stranger turned, but I jumped up before he could get his bearings and slammed my fist into his cheek. His head flung to the side as he flattened against the sidewalk, another groan of pain leaving him. Good. I hoped he fucking hurt because I sure did.
I rose on shaky knees, aware of the attention on me from the other homeless people. I ignored them and grabbed the box of food, moving across the street to hand it to Miguel, a war vet. Most people respected him. “Share it around.”
The old man gave me a smile and nod.
Then, I picked up my bags and left. It wasn’t worth sticking around for another fight. The back of my head throbbed already. My stomach wobbled and I wasn’t sure if it was from the fight or because I was starving for real food. Pastries only went so far.
Everything tilted.
I stopped to grab a lamppost, steadying myself. My ears rang. Panic clamped down on my lungs, suffocating me.
I dug my hand into the top of my coat and grasped the gold chain secured around my neck. It was the only valuable I had left, but it was also the last chance I had at freedom. I was stuck, caught in a vortex of choices that got worse by the moment.Grandma had given me this necklace for my fifteenth birthday, telling me I’d always be special to her. And I had been, until she’d died of a stroke. Through all the trials I’d experienced, I’dneverconsidered pawning it. But maybe I didn’t have a choice this time.
I inhaled deeply, my lungs on fire. The back of my head throbbed harder, reminding me of the possible death I’d been close to, and I exhaled heavily through my nose. The only pawnshop open to buying things from people like me was owned by Jim Shanahan, who most people knew as Nike because of his shoe collection.
His brother, Mike, was usually the one there running the business, and I hated the bastard. He was a scumbag. He would take advantage of me, buy products for less than they were worth because I was desperate, and one day, he’d asked me if I was over eighteen while we were haggling. The second I’d said yes, he’d asked for a blowjob in exchange for giving me fifty bucks more.
Fifty. Fucking. Dollars. For head.
At the time, it had seemed like the only way to survive, the only way to keep my miserable life plodding along, because at least moving forward wasn’t dead.
He started me down the path of hustling and sleeping with people.
I groaned and dropped my forehead against the cold lamppost. Mike was an asshole, but he was one who gave me the time of day.
I moved as fast as my legs would carry me, which didn’t say much because my knees were trembling. I headed through alleyway shortcuts I knew by heart and down shady streets most smart people avoided, until I finally got to the front of the pawnshop.
The small white sign with bold black letters at the front of the worn-down building was only half lit and simply said Shanahan Brothers Pawnshop. It’d been that way since I’d first come here, and with the amount of hustling Mike did, I didn’t know why he hadn’t gotten it fixed yet.
I took a deep breath and stepped toward the door.
4
