AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The only things I have left are the clothes on my back and my guitar. It’s been years that I’ve managed to hold onto my stuff, and yet in less than five minutes, I lost it all. Every song about Allie, gone. All the things keeping me alive, gone. This time tomorrow, I’ll have to break my rule of no stealing, or I won’t make it much longer. Between some first aid supplies and food and water, I need to do something.
Closing my eyes, I rest for a bit, knowing the shelter is long filled up and the trek to find somewhere to hide until morning will be tough. I want so much for this to be it, to finally have hit rock bottom for the last time. My words from that night in the hospital ring through my mind, I tried so hard to reassure Allie that this was as bad as it could get, and for her, I hope it was true. For me, it was the biggest lie to leave my lips.
Rock bottom and I are the best of fucking friends now. We go so far back that I think if rock bottom was getting married, I would be first in line to be the best man at the wedding. We’re so close, I’m not sure we’ll ever part ways.
“You can’t sleep here, man. You gotta go somewhere else,” a young man says from the doorway of a smoke shop just down from me. He looks apologetic, a sympathetic smile on his face. Throwing a small smile and nod in his direction, I stand up and start the long walk to find somewhere to lay down.
Hello rock bottom, my old friend. Next time, can you at least bring death with you?
Chapter Six
The gnawing pain in my gut is what brought me into this store and the every growing faintness in my head is what’s driving me to walk up and down these aisles. I can already feel the eyes of the man at the front of the store, his gaze piercing into my back as I move around. Looking down at my dirty jeans and plaid shirt, I grimace at how obviously messed up I look. The judgement from him burns me, not because he has it wrong, but because he has it right. He knows what I’m doing and yet, I still try to slip the can of cold spaghetti under my shirt.
Meeting the eyes of the shop owner, I give him my best nonchalant look, like I’m just the punk he keeps ranting about and not a starving, homeless, pathetic loser who just got too desperate for food. Did I mean to steal from him so he couldn’t provide for his family like he’s screaming at me about? No. Stealing food from his children’s mouths is the last thing I want, but desperation turns us into people we wouldn’t normally be.
The police will be here any minute now and honestly, I feel nothing but relief. A night in jail doesn’t sound so bad to me. It’s a place to sleep away from the rain and bone-chilling winds with a bed not made of cardboard. If I’m lucky, a small bite of food that can tide me over until my next act of desperation. Could I possibly be in for a night of pain or death if I’m placed with the wrong cell mate? Yeah, but death is a welcome companion at this point in my life. Honestly, either way, it’s better than the shit I’ve been living with.
“The police are finally here! You’ll get it now, you good for nothing punk.” The shop owner sneers at me, his face holding nothing but disgust and hatred. “Goddamn youth, always doing illegal shit. Maybe mommy and daddy should of taught you better.”
My lips curl back at his condescending tone before dropping back into nothingness. He knows nothing about me, my life, or my parents. This man is just another selfish asshole who can’t see past his own nose. An idiot could see that I’m fucking homeless and wasting away. Of course my parents didn’t teach me better, they were a fucking luxury that I never got.
If people like this guy could see how fucking ignorant their privileged point of view is, the world would be a slightly better place. Of course, that’s never going to happen. It’s like wishing for extinct animals to suddenly come back to life, fucking useless. Humanity is fucked and nothing can change my mind on that. There’s more selfishness, ignorance, and evil in the world than their is kindness or even civility.
The moment the two uniformed police officers exit their vehicle, I release a sigh of relief. This is it, the moment I can get away from this asshole and deal with the consequences of my own actions. One of the officers steps up, his dark eyes already looking at me with disapproval. Rolling my eyes, I glance at the other officer.
Ignoring his partner and the shop owner, he walks over to me, his blue eyes and tied back long blonde hair looks at odds with the dark uniform. He squats down in front of me, giving me a small, sympathetic smile. He doesn’t look much older than I am, his name tag readsR. Larson.
“Hey. My name is Officer Rhys Larson, but you can just call me Rhys. You doing okay?” he asks, ignoring the angry grunts from the shop owner. His partner taps his shoulder, but he waves him off, never taking his eyes off of me.
“Yeah,” I mumble, swallowing thickly and dropping my eyes to my hands. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“What’s your name?” Rhys asks, nothing but empathy for me on his face.
“Declan,” I answer quickly, not wanting to get on the officer’s bad side just in case. “Declan Hallows.”
“Okay, Declan. What’s going on? It seems to me you’re having a string of bad luck.” Rhys nods at my face and clothes, zero judgement on his face.
“Bad luck? He’s a fucking criminal! He tried to steal from me,” the shop owner whines, throwing his hands in the air and accidentally smacking the dark eyed officer.
"Watch yourself," the officer named A. Kleiman warns him, looking more and more annoyed by the second. "Larson, let's just throw him in handcuffs and get him in the cruiser. We have shit to do."
"Kleiman, we have a job to do. Go step over there with Mr. Harper and get his side of the story. I have this part covered," Rhys snaps, his commanding voice much more intimidating than the other guy's. His blue eyes are hard as steel as he stares officer Kleiman down until he relents.
A sudden laugh escapes me, the awesomeness of Rhys taking no shit from the slacking officer shocking me into the first laugh I've had in longer than I can remember. Rhys looks at me, a smile pulling up his own lips as he looks triumphant as fuck. Once they're both fully out of ear shot, he sits beside me on the step of the store, pulling out his notepad and pen to take my statement.
"Wanna tell me what happened? I'm sure Mr. Harper will spin it to make you look as bad as possible," he says with a shake of his head, the exasperation clear in his voice.
"Are you allowed to say that?" I laugh again, not sure how to make heads or tails of this guy. For a cop, he's oddly personable and I don't like how quickly I'm warming up to him.
"Eh, why not?" Rhys jokes, pushing my shoulder with his own. "Tell me what happened so I can help you."
"There's not much to tell really," I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck. "I stole from him, exactly like he said."
"What did you steal?" He pushes, still just holding his pen and notepad without writing anything.
"A can of spaghetti." My face flushes with shame and embarrassment. "I was hungry."
"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Rhys grumbles, tightening his fists as he curses under his breath. "This is over a can of spaghetti? Fuck, it's like a dollar!”
