Touch

PLEASE VOTE AND COMMENT!!!!! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK!!!!!!! I'M NEW TO WATTPAD AS A WRITER AND I'D LOVE TO GET SOME READS!!!!!!!!!

As I paced the darkened streets of Paris, I searched for an easy target. Someone who wouldn't be a threat to me and had a lot of cash on them. I scanned the people who passed me, seemingly unaware of my existence. In my experience, if people don't want to acknowledge you, you could be truly invisible. I had my hood pulled over to cover my eyes and my jeans were so frayed and ripped, you could see most of my legs. They were sickly thin from lack of a decent meal in longer than I cared to remember. I liked it here in Paris, even though when I lived in London I had a family and a house, I never had to worry about dinner or catching a disease from a ratty sleeping bag. But in New York I had to -- no, I won't think about that now, I had a new Iife and I never had to think about what had transpired there if I didn't want to. I shook my head and breathed in the sweet smell of the bakehouse across the road from me. They must be closing up soon. The front door opened and a girl of about twenty stepped onto the street. She deposited a brown parcel into her bag and I smiled. Perfect. The cash register's money. I shadowed her as she walked to her car and waited until she passed by a dark alley. Pulling my knife from my pocket and I ran up behind her, pushing her into the shadows. I pressed my knife into her stomach, but I was careful not to let myself touch her bare skin.

"Give me the bag." I growled. She didn't move, just started to whimper in fear. I ripped her bag from her shoulder and rifled around until I found what I was looking for. I threw the handbag back at her and sprinted for the other end of the alley. I didn't turn back until I had run the three blocks to the empty shop I was currently living in. I walked around to the side of the building and pulled back the piece of sheet metal that concealed the hole-in-the-wall that was my front door. If people saw me entering through the real front door, I could get arrested for trespassing and that could not happen under any circumstances. I crawled through and creeped into the back room that was now my home. Everything was as I left it, my old sleeping bag was still tucked into a hole in the plaster, my bag was stashed on top of the cupboard with the peeling yellow paint. Pulling my sleeping bag out of the hole, I unwrapped it and tucked myself in, going through my loot in the process.

"Shit.'' There at least a couple of thousand bucks in there, it must be the whole week's earnings. This money could last me a while and guarantee I'd be eating dinner for at least a few weeks. I slipped the money into my backpack and settled down to go to sleep when I heard the tell-tale sound of glass breaking. Someone was breaking into the shop. I pulled my knife out again and stood behind the door. Footsteps approached and I spread my legs into a fighting stance. The door slammed open and I pounced on the intruder. I landed on them and pushed them to the ground with a thud. I pressed my knife to their neck, right above the vein.

"What the hell?" A gruff voice said.

"What do you want?'' I pressed the knife in deep until I drew some blood. Not enough to kill or seriously injure him, but it sure as hell would tell him that I meant business.

"I just need a place to stay for the night! I'm not here to hurt anyone!" His throat bobbed as he gulped.

"This place is occupied." A year ago, I would've been happy to share, but just one bad experience can make you realise how stupid that is.

"Okay! I'm sorry." The person I was straddling started to hyperventilate and I realised he hadn't been on the streets very long. He was about in his late teens but he still had that naivety and clean-cutness that you lose out here. He had blonde hair and grey eyes, with a serious case of acne. He would probably never come back here again if I let him go.

"Get out." I growled. Better that I scared him so he would be more careful in the future, and not get himself killed by someone less friendly than I am. I crawled off him and moved to the side so he could scramble out as ungracefully as he needed, but the stupid boy grazed my ankle with his finger, right between my shoes and my jeans, and my whole world exploded into a sea of colours and sounds.

 

I could feel myself entering the memory, before I could actually see anything. The vision started to take shape around me and I saw a girl with long, dark hair and a golden tan running on the beach. I thought she was running towards me until I noticed the intruder behind me. His smile lit up his face. He sprinted to the girl and lifted her up in the air, swinging her around before coming in for a kiss. I looked away, embarrassment flushing my cheeks, even though I knew they couldn't see me. When I looked back, they had separated and he was whispering in her ear. The only words I could make out were him muttering her name. Elena.

 

The scene changed, and this time, Elena was standing at the door to what I assumed was her house. She was laughing at the boy who was on his knees, a crushed bouquet of roses by his side. She opened the front door wider to reveal another boy who could've been a model behind her door. He laughed along with her before giving her a particularly sloppy kiss and an awkward grope.

"Sparici, Antonio." She said before slamming the door in his face. I couldn't watch anymore, so I clawed myself out of the memory.

 

When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the shopin Paris, with Antonio sitting on the floor, panting. The whole memory dive would have taken less than a second, but to me it seemed like a lot longer. Going through someone's memories was never fun, but these ones had been particularly draining.

"You need to leave, now." I said slowly and forcefully. Sometimes the person whose memory I was in could retain the feeling they had during the time that the memory was created, and since I saw a major heartbreak, I didn't want him to start bawling. But he still hadn't stopped hyperventilating and his face was going red. "What's wrong?"

"Asthma." He wheezed. Crap. I hadn't meant to scare him that much. I scrambled for the bag he had carried in and pulled out an inhaler. I shook it and shoved it in his mouth. Once he had calmed down, he sat up slowly. "Thankyou."

"Don't."

"No, really. You saved my life."

"Yeah, I was the one who caused you to have the attack."

"I'm not holding a grudge against you, of all people." He gave me a lopsided grin.

"What?" I took another step back. "Do I know you?"

"No, but we know each other now. Did you feel that connection?" He stood up and started to walk towards me. I kept stepping back but there wasn't much room for me to do so.

"Connection...Oh, god! Not again." I groaned and put my head in my hands. Sometimes, after a dive, if I entered a particularly strong or fresh memory, I left a sort of imprint in their minds. It eventually wore off, but sometimes the "connection" could feel pretty deep and shaking these people was a royal pain in my ass. "Listen...I'm just going to buy a couple of essentials, I'll be back soon."

"Okay." He moved over to my sleeping bag and spread his next to it. I grabbed my satchel and ran out the door. Antonio what's-his-face could deal with the cops when they noticed the smashed window. I'd have to get a new sleeping bag, and find somewhere else to sleep for the next couple of days. 

I walked towards the Champ de Mars hoping to clear my head and figure out what to do next. My stomach started to rumble so I walked to a local McDonald's and ordered some food. When I got it, I practically inhaled it I ate it so fast. I got a lot of looks from people who were shocked by my spectacle, but I didn't care. If McDonald's of all places is your first decent meal in weeks, a few stares isn't going to stop you scarfing that stuff down. When I was finished, I headed towards a local park to try and find a bench to spend the night. I found a good spot and I started to feel my lids getting heavy. As my body prepared for sleep, my mind prepared itself for the toxic nightmares that invaded my sleep every night. Ones about New York, about London, about Pierre and about dad.