Ruby Red Marionette

six | merely

//: Yvette to the side. 

I decided not to burden Simon with my problems.

For a number of reasons, not including me having any desire to spare him because I cared about him. I did, but not that much. For one, I couldn't explain my problems. What was I supposed to say? That I went to a detective's house who was one of the most suspicious people I'd ever met? Simon would ask me how I knew this detective, and I wouldn't be able to spit it out. And he would want to know the address, for safety's sake, and I would have nothing to say.

Also, I wandered a bit after leaving Charlie's. My mind felt like a full water balloon, and if I kept thinking about what and who I'd just seen, it would fall and burst. I let the streets help me blow off the steam. But when I stopped looking over my shoulder and holding eye contact with people for too long, when my paranoia left me, I was already in territory that I shouldn't be in. There were people here, at least. I knew the neighborhood, but I didn't know my way around it. No one knew how to get through Alton Park because no one made it their business to be here. If you weren't born here, you thanked God and kept it moving.

Unless you're like me, with a cloud of bad luck floating over your head.

It was Winter now, so five o'clock in the evening at this time of the year looked like nine o'clock at night. Still, thugs and kids and girls giving it up littered the streets, eyeing me as I went along. They weren't trying to intimidate me, but instead trying to figure out why they couldn't. If I'd learned anything over the years, it was to keep a poker face when walking through a part of the woods that you didn't piss in. They respected it.

The only problem was that Alton was large, and I had about ten or twelve blocks to go before I might break out of it. And on the outskirts of one ghetto is just more ghetto; even after leaving what is technically Alton Park, I'd just enter a neighborhood of the same standard. When I crossed over from the street I was on to avoid witnessing a gay boy about to have his face crushed by two men, I reached a more quiet area.

"Quiet" in another neighborhood would be a good sign, but here it was a sign of danger. I couldn't turn back because about two or three guys in a group full of men at the corner of a house across the street, probably members of a gang, had already seen me. Going back now would only cause me to be followed. So I took a deep breath, dug my hands into my pockets, and walked on.

I felt them, all of them, watching me as I went. I looked up, glancing at them every few seconds and making sure that I wasn't walking too fast. They were like dogs - if you let them know you were afraid of them, only then would they attack you. I pretended to look at the numbers on the houses, as if I was coming to meet someone.

One of them, a heavy-set man with dreadlocks and a dirty jacket, crossed the street. The rest of them followed behind. I didn't look at them, but instead looked into the mirrors of the cars that lined the street - if I could see them in the mirrors, they were getting closer. I decided to walk up now, thinking that maybe they wouldn't chase me if my speed increased. I broke into a swift power-walk and finished off the rest of the block, their footsteps and low conversation well behind me.

But I wasn't safe.

As soon as I turned the corner, a man who looked to be a bit younger than the men behind me stopped me in my tracks, studying me quickly and closely with his eyes. We said nothing to each other for a while; he had his arms outstretched in front of me, halting me, and his silence confused me. All we did was stand there.

Just when I was about to try to escape him, the gangbangers from behind caught up. I was now three feet between them and the man. They had me sandwiched.