Beginning Of The End

Distance

Shay's P.O.V.

_

June 3rd, 2023

Shay Haven; there are no two words that have been written more profusely in any of these tattered journals than those ones. Even after a year of altering my name, it still feels unrealistic, yet I've never felt more like myself in a lifetime.

         

    I say I'd done pretty well at surviving societies and environments, this year. I survived a Winter season, I've survived a Summer season; now my only test to myself is to see if I can do it all again.

     My plan is to venture to places I haven't been before— maybe see if I can escape this wretched town that obtains a handful of faces that I manage to see on a daily basis.

    I get bored of living only the life of the homeless 16-year-old, despite my efforts in pulling it off. My hair was grungy, but maintainable. I was practically a professional at breaking into places and stealing things, so handling my health wasn't much of a bust. In the survival process, I'd even learned how to tend almost any type of wound, for myself. I had even come across the occasion in assisting other homeless humans, who didn't seem to be as thriving and free-spirited as I still was.

    Yet, today will be a new day.

    A year from now is when this, particular, chapter of mine began, and now it's time to see what I make of the second one.

    As being as typical as Seattle weather would be, the clouds were barreling over the tops of the city. I sat in my favorite abandoned building, that I chose to stay in, during the Summers, and sat in the half-opened doorway. It seemed to be, maybe an old office building, at some point in time. Now, it was an empty, powerless structure that obtained a total of five empty rooms, and three windows for every one of them.

    It bothered me, not to have power. I had a stolen phone that I managed to situate a cellular account for, and I had to find places to charge it across town on a daily basis. Though, wasn't much of a struggle. I enjoyed the exercise.

    With my legs folded and my head rested in my hands, I just admired the way the aroma of the upcoming weather was approaching me. I adored the rain— it was one of the small reasons that I still chose to stay in Seattle all that time.

    I was from Everett, a city located a few miles up Interstate 5. Originally, a year before today, you'd find me living with my Uncle, Lucas. However, in my mind, he was known as "Uncle Lucifer". He was a purely demonic soul, to the eyes of mine. He wasn't afraid to take his anger out on the vulnerable, 15-year-old girl, who knew nothing about herself until she found her ways around living on her own.

    Everett was home, to me, for a while. I had a friend or two, kept as a memory, from my elementary and middle school years. Yet, I desperately wished to obliterate every flashback of my home-life. I still had scars plastered all over the surface of my skin, from broken glass of a shattered beer bottle.   

    I thought about that place, every time I would catch myself spacing out, into the infinite images in front of me.

    My mind would only shift from those ideas, when the same little stray cat would appear in front of the door frame. Firstly, it'd peer its little, golden head into the door, to see if I was in here. Then, immediately, it'd start to purr. It'd step inside, letting the rim of the door brush up against the side of it's tail. Then, it would turn around and repeat the process, over and over again, until I'd given it attention.

    She was a kind cat. She was the only thing I had to follow me around and keep me company, since maybe the few previous months.

    I could feel my aching throat chime in, for a light laugh, "Welcome back," I whispered, to the beautifully innocent animal, "I'm assuming you're hungry."

    As if the young cat had processed a word that came out of my mouth, it topples over to it's side and rolls over to it's back. It's purring grew louder and louder, as it enjoyed the feeling of the thin, rugged carpet texture.

    The baggy t-shirt, that I happened to be wearing, was covered in claw-marks from that very cat, trying to cuddle up next to me, while I was asleep. I didn't mind it much. I could easily just go snatch another shirt from any store I selected, I just chose to wait it out; crime between crime.

    Then, I sighed, remembering the ten-dollar-bill that was sitting ruffled in my pocket, "What do you think you're craving today?" I interrogated the thin, furry creature, as if it could speak English, "Tuna, again? Or real cat food?"

    I figured that if anybody ever passed by and saw me speaking to a cat, they'd consider me crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if I was.

    I imagined the silence being filled with words, other than my own, and assumed that the cat had given me some sort of mental response, "Tuna, it is." I'd even managed to make myself, speaking to nothing.

    That's when I stood, dusting my tattered jeans off from the dirt. My joints were popping, with every move I tried to make. Sleeping on a floor wasn't exactly my preference, regardless of how long I'd managed to put-up with it.

    When I made my way outside, I could've sworn that everything had just gotten completely knocked out of place. It was as if everything that I'd felt or even breathed had shifted out of order. There were crashing noises, shattering noises— the sky was crackling with noises that didn't even constitute to the similarities of thunder.

    Then, I could see things falling to the ground, as if they'd appeared from nowhere. It was practically raining a sparse amount of heavy objects that I couldn't identify, from where I was standing. Then, I'd seen the foster home, a little ways down the road, from the little property I was standing on.

    The building was multiple stories high, and from what I could see, there were pieces of this strange epidemic crashing into the yard and the poor building, itself.

    I didn't even know how to react, when it came to any pervading emotions, but I knew, definitely, to follow my impulsiveness and chase after the possible disaster.