Locked. ||Ian Gallagher||

Williamsburg subway station.

"Bye mom" I say, standing at my front door, ready to leave. No answer.
I close the door again and walk upstairs to her room.
She's sleeping in her bed, covered in dirty slutty clothes and vodka bottles.
"Bye mom" I repeat.
"Sleep well" I follow up after receiving no answer again.
It's almost dark outside. I plug in my earphones to my iPhone 5 and walk alongside the broken pavement.
Lana del Rey just released ultraviolence. I can't stop listening to it.
It's raining. But it's still warm outside. This is that one moment you experience only a few times a year where the suburban life feels nearly tropical.
I love it.
I zip my left pocket open and grap my lighter and cigarettes. I only have one left. I'll get some on the way.
I light my last one up, and listen to the second verse of Brooklyn baby.
The reason I'm going to downtown is because I need a few things. My left earphone is broken, I need to tap some cash of off my moms credit card, and a new pack of Marlboro. Then I'll go back home I guess. I might get some food, but I don't think so.

I arrive at the subway stairs. I see the fattest rodent of  a rat I've ever seen, and I walk down the piss-covered steps.
I still have to wait 5 minutes on my train, but like I said, I'm out of cigs. Yes I know.
I am in fact addicted. I walk through the gate, scan my shitty ash-stained card, and walk over to the M train.
I see a ginger guy my age, leaning up against a tiled column, who might have something in store for me.
I tap his shoulder. He turns to me. I take my earphones out.
"Sorry, can I maybe borrow a cigarette?" I ask him.
"Oh sure" he says, and grabs his pack of Marlboro red out of his checkered jacket.
"Here you go." He says with a little smile.
He hands me two cigarettes.
"Two?! Thank you so so much." I say.
"Don't worry about it" he says.
"We smoke the same brand" I add as I light one up and stick the other one in my pocket.
"Marlboro? Red? You've got good taste." He tells me.
"What's your name" I ask.
"Ian, you?"
"Quinn"
"Are you from here?" He asks.
"Three blocks from this very station." I answer.
I've always been a little boy-crazy, but he was charming me the second he offered me that cigarette.
"Sorry, this Is my train." He says.
I'm kinda sad he's leaving already. I would've loved to have a good conversation with him.
"Oh sure, see you around then?" I say.
"I think we just might. Bye Quinn." He says, as the metro doors close.
He's so cute. Don't know if he was gay though. Could be. I don't know.
It doesn't matter now anyway.
"Bye Ia-" I say, but I couldn't finish my goodbye.
Someone snatched my hoodie from behind and slammed me against the column Ian just stood at. The metro hasn't left yet, and in the couple seconds Ian is still looking at me, a lot happens.
Two guys had approached me. One slammed me against the column Ian just stood at and the other had a small hunters knife.
I've never been more scared. I can only think about why someone would want me dead in this situation.
What did I do wrong?
The one on the left holds the knife in front of my face, saying threatening things, as the other starts striking at my stomach.
Ian is watching it all happen. He looks at me with great fear in his eyes, while holding his hands up to the plastic subway windows.
I'm wearing a brown puffy woolen jacket, and denim Levi's. The one on the right removed the knife from my face and cuts me in my thigh as I collapse from the strikes I just faced in the side. I cough up a little blood.
I fall to the floor as Ian's train takes off. My vision goes blurry, and my entire body feels sore. Not to mention the deep 4 inch cut in my leg.
"That's what you get, you fag." Is the last thing I hear before I lose consciousness.