I sat in front of my type writer, waiting for something to hit me. I was in my friend Carolyns Chicago apartment, seeing that I no longer had a place to sleep. I stared at the glowing busy city streets as the summer sun was setting, searching through traffic and street deals to find inspiration. I had hit rock bottom, and the only possibility that didn't involve stripping in my case was writing a book. I didn't have much experience or education, so jobs weren't very open. I was a waitress at a restaurant, which didn't pay enough for me to get an apartment.
A sudden clicking of heels was an alarm for me, telling me that my writing time was up. A single tap on the hardwood floor every time Caro took a step closer.
"William wants to know when you'll be leaving." She said meekly.
"When I get a few bucks." I mumbled, eyes still focused on the outside world.
"Should I tell him that?"
"Should you?" I asked, closing the typewriter that folded conveniently for my travel. I began walking out of the room, leaving the scene before anything would happen.
"Where are you going?" Carolyn asked nervously.
I kept walking just because I didn't have an answer. I made sure I took a bottle of liquor for my travel. If I was going out into the cold dark city again, I made sure I was going to bring some comfort.
"Hey, where are you going with that?" Bill bitched at me.
"I'm leaving your home, I'm taking my parting gift."
"Did Carolyn give you that?" He snapped.
"No. Don't give her any scars before you two head out, the poor girl didn't do anything. Not to mention you'll be questioned."
I slammed the front door and started heading down the stairs. I knew it would only a matter of time before I would find a new place to stay at and a have a new story to tell.
I sat with my boyfriend Gabe at a local dinner. We were waiting for a friend to deliver the money we had won recently and our competition couldn't pay off immediately. The bells as an alert of the door being opened jingled, and Gabe turned around with anticipation. Instead of seeing the messenger, there was a small red headed girl no taller than 5 feet.
The chef in the kitchen peeked through the door, "You're late, Mo."
"Oh, shut up, Mr. Clean," she nicknamed the cook "The place is dead, anyways."
"Pick up on Jenny's customers, she had to leave early."
Gabe drummed his fingers on the table impatiently. I watched "Mo" as she slid behind the breakfast bar, stashing her things.
"What time did Nate say?" I asked, grabbing Gabes cold hand, holding on to it. I tried to weave my fingers between his, but he pulled away.
"He'll be here."
Mo approached our table, no longer wearing skinnys and a tank top, but now wearing a white t-shirt and black dress pants.
"Hi, I'm Monica. I'll be your replacement waitress, what can I get you?"
"We'll be set with just ice waters." I said, trying to keep Gabe from saying anything stupid.
"Alright, I'll be right back with those."
As soon as she turned, the door opened and a familiar friend entered the dinner. He slid in the booth next to Gabe, and took an envelope out of the inside of his jacket and gave it to him.
"What’s the plan for tonight, then, kids?" I asked.
"Well, we can either take a visit underground, or impress the amateurs at a casino."
"I don't feel like dealing with shit tonight, Gabey."
Monica came over with two glasses of water and set down the beverages.
"You kids need anything else?"
"We'll be fine, thanks."
Nate and Gabe made small talk while Monica went into the kitchen, we were the only ones left in the restaurant.
"I'm locking up." The cook said to Monica, as he dragged the small girl out of the kitchen like a rag doll.
Monica went behind the bar again, "Whatever, man. I still don't have a place to go tonight."
"I can't take you home, just imagine what the missus would say when I brought you over and say 'This is my homeless co-worker.'"
"Okay, man. I get it." She stood up, wearing her tank top and jeans again. She had a box and a bottle of booze in her hand.
"Yo, kids, uh - you gotta go." She said to us, and pointed to the door.
"You lock up, I'm leaving." 'Mr. Clean' said, and left.
Monica went about turning off lights and locking doors, yet, Gabe and Nate still sat at the booth. Once she finished, she slammed her hand on the table.
"HEY, GET OUT OF MY PLACE."
"What place, dollface?" Gabe asked "From what I overheard, you don't have a place."
"I'll stay here for the night. You guys just gotta get out."
"That doesn't sound too comfortable." Nate interrupted. "Why don't you come with us?"
"Whatever, man. Just as long as you'll leave." She said, passively.
"Alright. We'll be in the car." The two of them left.
"Are you seriously going with two strangers into the city?" I asked.
"I don't have much to lose, so why not. Just as long as they left."
Mo and I walked out of the front door, and she turned out the last of the lights and locked the door.
I sat on my hospital bed, with a long, lanky arm around me. My head pressed into the neck of a dear friend, Kyle. I'd always loved him, but dared not tell him. His breaths were rhythmic and echoed through the room. He came to visit me nearly everyday since I was checked into the hospital. I tried killing myself, depression was my only reason why. Therapy and the pills I took filled me with confusion and lack of memory. I'd been here nearly a month and a half, so I was getting ready to pack my bags. I'd learned no value of life, the only pro from the experience was the high from the pills and growing closer to Kyle. Otherwise, it was all a big waste of my time. But I'll just pretend that I befitted from it and move on.
My decaying mother walked into the room "Paige, I'm here to take you home."
"I don't think I'm ready to leave, mother. I'm still ill." I didn't want to have to spend two and a half hours in a car with her, and have to be dragged to her house. I'd rather Kyle drive me home, which was the original plan. My mother sighed and walked out of the room.
"Get up," I demanded, and the blond did. His hair sprayed locks have flattened from him leaning his head on my shoulder.
I left the room and paced down the halls, lapping over and over again. I ran through and knocked on all of the doors, waiting for everyone to come out of their rooms. Only two did.
Both female, one scrawny, mid-length auburn hair. Her eyes dragged from stress. She evidently had been drowning herself in self-pity. The other was a blond, an annoyed look on her face.
"What do you want?" The blond one snapped.
I grabbed both of their arms and dragged them into the cafeteria of the hospital, not caring if they were supposed to be in their rooms or not. I pulled up a few chairs and pushed them into the seats.
"So, whatcha' in for, kids?"
"...Alcoholism." The blond stated, bluntly.
"Ah, that sucks, Blondie. And for you?"
"My boyfriend is a heroin addict. I'm not in." Her eyes dug into me.
"Say it ain't so, Peppermint Pattie."
"My name's Brooke."
"That's cool, dollface." I was dying to ruin her.
"Call me Harper, no nicknames." The blond said, putting her feet on the table.
"And you?" Peppermint Pattie asked.
"Paige. I tried to kill myself. I'm getting out soon."
"Lovely." They said in unison.
Then silence filled our table. It was unbearable. I stood up, and starting walking away. "You'll find me in room 350."