Rants & Updates

Count Down

Ship: Jaylor

Setting: JJ was kicked out of the house and has been homeless.

JJ's POV

Day 82.

It's almost over.

I promised myself, if it doesn't get better in one hundred days, I'd end it.

I walk down the street weakly, limping to the small gym. I open the glass door and walk in. I wiped my worn out shoes on the torn burgundy mat before approaching the front desk where you'd usually scan your membership barcode.

The person working at the desk, Cameron, opened the automated gate for me while staring at me with a sad smile. He sees me here every weekend, and every weekend he lets me in even though I don't have a membership.

He reaches down and hands me a water bottle and a towel. I smile meekly.

"Thank you." I mumble quietly. He nods wordlessly. I walk to the mens' change room and head in.

I take my flip flops out of my backpack and put them on the floor before putting it in my locker.

I open the water bottle and take a long sip.

I needed that.

I take another one before placing it in the locker. I unravel the towel. There's deodorant and toothpaste inside. I smile at the items, putting them in the locker.

I donned the flip flops, leaving my shoes in front of my locker.

I take the towel and head down the short tiled hallway and into one of the shower stalls, locking the door behind me.

I strip off all my clothes and step into the shower. I turn on the water.

After I'm all cleaned up I head back out to the front desk.

I smile once more at Cameron before leaving, taking another sip from my water bottle.

~/~/~

It's mid-day and I'm starving, but what else is new.

Three men have already come up to me asking if I was desperate. I told them no, and they all left, cursing me out under their breaths.

Eighteen more days. No more begging, no more freezing at night, no more being beat up for no reason. No more anything. I'd do it now if I hadn't promised myself.

Tears began falling from my eyes. I curled into a ball on my side.

I feel a slight tap on my leg, the bruised one. I groan.

"You can't lay here." I hear a stern voice tell me.

"I've been laying here for months." I mutter back.

"Look, I have somewhere you can lay." He says.

"If it's face down in your bed, biting a pillow, no thank you." I tell him.

"It's nothing like that." He says. I look up to see a police officer staring down at me.

"If it's in the backseat of your squad car, under you, I don't want that either." I add.