𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 {𝐒𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐧 '𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭' 𝐑𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐲}

20 | this is annoying

I close the door to the apartment, the rush of wind immediately getting cut off. I strip from my scarf and gloves, throwing them onto the kitchen counter before I walk over to the fridge.

I didn't have much, and I really needed to go grocery shopping, but I couldn't really afford that on these benefits. So a turkey sandwich for dinner will do.

I lived alone; no pets, no roommates. Just me. I believe it's better that way. Then, I have nobody to disappoint me.

I think therapy went well. I kind of had to go. Since I had left 141, Price made sure I was taken care of. That included getting some therapy. I didn't think I needed it, but after Gaz, he told me it may be beneficial. And if I didn't go, he would hire someone to track me down and make me go.

I haven't seen any of them since I left, not even König who I thought was one of my closest friends. I lost everything once I left; my friends, my sanity (kind of), my life, and well, my income. I still get paid, but not as much as I should be getting.

It was winter in New York, which either meant it was beautiful and whimsical, or it was icky and disgusting. I lived where it was icky and disgusting.

I walked outside every day to unpaved roads, icy sidewalks, and slush. There were homeless men tucked into their sleeping bags too small for them, dogs barking from apartments they aren't supposed to be in, and grumpy teenagers walking to school.

Nothing about this was enjoyable.

If you thought my life was shit while I was in 141, you're gonna get one hell of a smack in the face now.

—

I tilt my head back, letting the water run down my scalp. I then bring my hands back, gripping my hair as I squeeze the conditioner out. I make sure I get all the loose hair strands out, putting the clump of hair on the wall before I switch to washing my face.

I grab a clean towel when I step out, wrapping it around my body, then walking over to the mirror. I wipe my hand across the fogged-up mirror, then lean over the counter, staring at my reddened face.

I really needed to start getting more sleep. I run my fingers under my eyes, stretching the skin as my eyes get smaller. I groan, then step away, walking back into my room.

My apartment was always quiet. Thank god for good neighbors, but maybe sometimes I wanted to hear a couple fight or a kid crying. Just... something.

Because it's so quiet, I always keep some kind of music on. It just helps me feel less alone.

Yet, this time the music coming from my phone was silenced, replaced by the sound of a ringtone. Someone calling me.

I haven't gotten a phone call in a year.

I pick up the phone, reading the text on the screen that read Price.

"God damn it," I mumble to myself.

I close my eyes, taking one deep breath before I answer, "Hello."

"Hello, Cuda."

Cuda. I haven't been called that since I left. I wasn't Cuda anymore, I was just Blake. Cuda had left my body the second Gaz's life left him.

"Nice to hear from you, Price."

"Nice for you to pick up. I've been calling you since last week."

I furrow my brows, pulling the phone away from my ear to look at all my missed calls. There it was. Seven calls, one every day, for the last week.

I hum, "Sorry. I didn't see that."

"I can tell," He says. He then kisses his teeth, "But, that's not why I'm calling you. We need your help. 141."

I sigh, shaking my head, "Price..."

"I know."

"I can't do that again. You know that. That shit took the life out of me."

"I understand that, Cuda, but Ghost... he's in trouble."

I scoff, "Remember what happened the last time I tried to help him."

I feel him nod over the phone, the silence speaking numbers.

"That was a year ago, Cuda."

"I can't."

"You still love him."

"I thought he was dead, Price. What do you mean he's in trouble?"

"He's been captured."

"Okay," I laugh.

"Cuda. Please."

"Just..." I start, frustrated, "Call me Blake. Blake's my name, that's what I want you to call me."

He exhales, "Okay, Blake. We need your help."

"I can't. No."

He clicks his tongue, "Okay. Well, you don't have a choice."

Suddenly, I hear a banging on my door, followed by a voice yelling, "Blake Pearson! Open up!"

I focus back on the phone call.

"You son of a bitch. I hate you. I despise you with all I have left in me!"

"Maybe it'll do you good to see us again."

"Fuck you!" I scream, the sound of the men behind my door echoing in the background, "No. Fuck you, Price!"

"I'll see you soon," He says before the call ends.

"We're coming in!"

My hard-earned hinges and locks get absolutely destroyed as the men plunge their feet into my door. It swings open, and they immediately point their guns at me as if I was some dangerous criminal. Maybe a war criminal but that's not the point.

I put my hands up slowly, exhaling as they walk over to me. Two men go behind me, taking my wrists from the air until they were resting behind me. They cuff me up, then pull me out of the apartment without another word.

All my apartment neighbors were already out of their apartments, standing outsides their doors curious about what all the yelling was about.

Honestly, kind of a stretch to cuff me when I know I wasn't getting far if there were five swat team-looking men barging into my apartment. I would have just walked with them willingly.

"Hey, we'll bail you out okay," One of my neighbors say.

I laugh, "I'm not going to jail, unfortunately. If I don't come back though just know I probably got shot."

She gasps, like I said something completely horrific, then starts going back into her apartment.

I get walked through the entire apartment until we make it to a black car. This time, they were gentle, helping me in the backseat and one of them even put a seatbelt on for me.

Guess they really need me.