The Rebellious Kids of Hell's City

Scintilla

All my days seem the same in Hell's City. I was born here and I've lived most of my days here so I would know. On top of the routine are the basic rules you learn if you stay long enough.

Don't walk down that street at that time. Avoid that place at this time of day, avoid those people but you can speak to those people. That shop isn't for you, it's for this gang only. If you have this accent and go into that bar you'll get your head kicked in. Once you learn the complex social structures of the city you can blend in, go unnoticed by the gangs and police. It's easier if you have a group, people who also know the city in case things turn upside down, but groups like that tend to only stick together for one reason... who else do you have? So you form cliques with people you tolerate... maybe some of them you'll actually like. You'll walk the streets at night with them, avoiding the back alleys, staying in the light of the street lamps. You'll go to the first bar of the night, meet the others and then hop your way round the Night District. Buy some coke here, sneak out the back of the bar to smoke a blunt with the bar manager there. Go back in, Keep drinking. Order two more rounds at the sixth bar you visit. Somehow make it home or somewhere no one will rob you, pass out, wake up and start all over again. Sometimes these daily patterns of drugs, sex and alcohol pull me under, like a heavy blanket of loneliness. Everyone I meet won't be permanent in my life, it becomes numbing after a while, but then I look up and see hoards of people who are doing exactly what I'm doing. Things change. It's like we're all part of this broken machine, no one can fix it and all we know is to keep moving. Keep the machine moving. And when you see it like that. It's not so lonely. Everyone is just a cog in this broken, run down machine. But I can't complain too much. I have some good friends in my life amongst the blurred faces of people around me.

Bill, my longest friend for example. Not the smartest person ever. He's delayed mentally, not that you would notice though, nor is it a problem. He's just too naive of the world around him. He Will defend you till the sunrises and stand his ground but you can get him to do anything with very little reasoning. Even things he really doesn't want to do, people can get him to do it. Sad thing is, he will do it because he likes making people laugh. But he doesn't realise they're laughing at him not with him. I love Bill though! He's like my brother, he's the only one who understands my issues, he always had patience for me. There was a small time where we lived right on the sticks of Hell's City together. The sticks is where nature takes over, there's less city, feels more like a town the further you go and eventually it just turns into fields and little villages. We would run to those fields and just explore, maybe stop at a local pub. Find an empty field on the side of a hill somewhere and smoke some weed, just watch the clouds pass by. We would swear that we escaped Hell's City but after checking on the Maps, it turns out Hell's City's borders include a large portion of fields and towns outside the actual city. Who knew! But man, I wished I could've lived there forever but things do come to an end. Why must things die so traumatically. Bill moved back home with his dad and I had nowhere. You see, when we lived together in the sticks we were living with my dad Naveen, but we called him Nav. He took us with him when he left his apartment in the city because he thought being out in nature would do me some good! But now I feel like it caused more problems. After everything happened I was homeless. Bill's dad couldn't take me in. The other people I would usually go drinking with didn't even know I left the city. My phone was broken so I couldn't contact anybody. Not even my mother, doubt she would help me though. Doubt she would answer the phone. My only resort was to sleep on the streets of the city or in back alleys that were safe. At least I knew where it was safe, I could predict the city very well and knew when to ditch. I remember I laid there one night on the floor of a cafe's staff car park behind the towering buildings. Nothing but my backpack, some small shopping bags with the little things I could salvage and the clothes on my back. I was cold, hoping maybe, just maybe I could die there. Everything seemed so hopeless. I lost so much in such a small space of time. Here I am... on the street. I closed my eyes, I was finally drifting to sleep when I heard my name from a familiar voice.