The Carrero Contract - Amending Agreements (Book 2 of Contract Trilogy)

5

I walk the streets for an hour, dragging my limbs, shivering incessantly with a banging head and heavy body. I have no idea where I am going, other than trying to kill time until daylight is blazing in the sky and the building I live in wakes up and fills with more than just night crawling psychos. I'll feel safer going back when it's morning and I can spend more time trying to get the door shut before I need to get ready for work at least. It's only a couple of hours, maybe, before sunrise and I can handle street living until then. I mean, this was once my entire existence when I couldn't find a place to stay, and I was flat out broke after getting to America. I have slept under bridges and all sorts. I am no stranger to being homeless; I just didn't think I would still be doing it at my age. I had bigger plans than this.

I have no doubt those boys will be snooping into everything in there for something worthwhile and I don't care. I have all I want with me and will carry it wherever I go, not that it's much. I sold everything of value and have only my basics now.

They have musty old broken furniture and the pots and pans that were there when I moved in and not much else. I don't cook in the apartment at all; eating at work or buying ready to eat cold dinners. The cooker stinks of gas when you switch it on and sometimes cuts out after only seconds to make a whistling sound. I never trusted it so never use it.

It's probably why I am always so tired and unwell; the lack of decent, non-greasy hot meals and a varied diet. I have always been someone who needs a healthy diet to function well. It was one of the perks of living with Alexi—he was obsessive about health and good food. I miss his well-stocked refrigerator and the on-hand cook downstairs with her grilled cheese plates.

I could murder a decent meal right now.

I end up sitting on a bench in the park as the damp air clings to every part of me and worsens my runny nose; watching the trees in the wind and listening to the city noises all around me. Even at this hour, it never sleeps and it's a constant thrum of noise echoing over the rustling leaves.

I sit and look around at the semi-lit area, streetlamps not doing much for this shadowy part and sigh sombrely.

I always feel so alone and this makes me feel more so.

It's early hours, cold and wet, inhospitable really, and I am sat with all that I own in two holdalls in a place that isn't the safest, with no one caring where I am or what happens to me. I am almost twenty-nine years old and I am invisible in the world. It's pretty pitiful.

Emotions take a nosedive as my cold bug takes over in the dark, cool air and I get a swimming head once more. Sniffing hard and coughing until my lungs burn and I can barely breathe. I shouldn't be out here when I'm getting ill, but it's better than sitting like a target waiting for the worst back there.

I curl up small and slide to my side in a bid to keep some of my body heat and use my bags as a cushion, wrapping my arms around them to find some comfort. It's not the comfiest of positions on a hard-wooden seat that's barely deep enough for my bum, let alone my full body. I jump in fright when a man walks out of the nearby bushes and spies me with more than an interested glance, perking my head back up to latch onto him on high alert; watching him suspiciously.

He looks away and whistles, all dressed in dark and concealed by shadows, so I don't get a good look at him.

I don't think he's anything to worry about as his dog follows him from the same place he appeared from, just an early morning walker while it's still empty and quiet, but it puts me on edge and reminds me how exposed I am out here. How many potential dangers there may be if I fall asleep here.

I'm tired, really exhausted, traces of concussion no doubt. I need to sleep but I have no other choice except to walk or wait until morning and I'm more likely to be able to deal with my door once the apartment's empty. I sit back up in frustration, knowing only too well I will most likely pass out if I don't try to keep myself awake.