Hours

 

2am

The lonely was his only friend. Justin sat in the empty street gutter, hollow, numb and disturbingly high. He breathed it in. Peaceful yet chaotic, he let it take him. And he was able to forget. Lost in the haze of delusion, he found peace and a silence that didn’t compel him to scream with rage.

6am

Signs of life had appeared now. Cars with purpose drove past him, intent on looking forward. Justin wondered the streets in awe. Some closed their curtains at the sight of him, others looking down on him in disgust. He’d see him today. He had a good feeling. As his feet stumbled to stay upright and as he scratched at the alley way wall, he felt a desperation rise in him that terrified him to the core. He had no idea where he was.

Distantly, he heard the sounds of a crying baby. The sirens of an ambulance rang in his ear. A man appeared before him, dressed in a suit, carrying the trash. Justin felt himself fall against the bricks.

“What do you want?” the man spoke disdainfully.

“I – ” he stammered.

The man frowned and in the dim light, and Justin saw the tiniest ounce of pity.

“Go on get outta here” the man he shooed.

“Him,” Justin whimpered.

“What?”

The man looked at Justin with dismay. He shook his head, giving up and spun on his heel to return to his home.

It was cold this time in the morning. The kind that chilled your bones, and as Justin sunk to the cobbled stone alley floor, he felt his eyes roll back as a new delirium took hold.

10am

Crowds had appeared now. The alley way he called home was still empty, but he had to keep searching. Sometimes he’d see his face in a crowd. Occasionally he’d see him, alone, stranded among strangers. His face would be stale with death. It’s what Justin imagined his own to look like.

Justin pulled his Winter jacket tight around his body. Walking with his head turned sharply down, he searched in hope. He lived for the moments that he found him. He searched for him not to feel pleasure but pain, guilt. He would now allow himself to feel relief or happiness. No, he was not allowed that mercy. It was his curse for living, for surviving.

He was starved by now; food had been scarce at late. Loitering by a bench, he waited until the middle aged lady was distracted and grabbed her half-eaten sandwich in a rhythm that had taken exactly four years to perfect.

Four years it had been. Exactly one thousand, one hundred and sixty days since he’d left that house. He kept count. It had been a further fifty-three days since he had lived. And he had died.

3pm

Justin has never liked the day. It reminded him of the life he once led. Days spent with him, laughing and bonding. Those were the memories that hurt the most.

People ignored him as he pushed through the crowds. He didn’t mind. Justin didn’t want to be known, he preferred the lonely. It was always there, a shadow that he never discarded, even at night. It enveloped him.

It was almost time.

He hadn’t seen him yet today, but he would. He had too. He was compelled by a higher power. Justin didn’t believe in god, infact he believed only in the power of what he could do for himself. But today, no, he was not in control.