Playing Criminal

44- Guys Suck

Guys suck. Seriously.

I took a breath, trying to steady myself and ended up thinking of Jack again.

Well, not Jack. He hadn’t betrayed or lied to me yet.

That you know of… my subconscious nagged at me, reminding me of that random-ass phone call Jack made at Todd’s parent’s house.

After walking a couple of blocks away from the shed, it began to dawn at me that I was alone. Before I’d always had my gang to rely on, and more recently Jack. But now, I had no idea how to reach anyone, no refuge I could go to.

Fuck.

I reached a small coffee shop and reached into my jean pocket to pull out the small wallet Aiden had given me last night (in case of emergency).

Pulling out a couple of dollar bills, I opened the door into the small, but warm and cozy shop.
The little bell cheerily dinged as I entered and I pulled myself onto a bar stool at the counter.

After ordering a small mug of coffee and dousing it with half and half, I set about processing all that had happened since the Bonnie and Clyde dance. However, as much as I wracked my brain, I couldn’t find a simple answer, a simple solution.

I always had an answer.

Except for now.

Should I try and contact Jack at Black Mountain and risk being caught?

Should I trust Aiden and turn myself into the Widows?

Should I just spend the rest of my life living in solitude on the streets?

By the time I’d finished my cup of coffee I was left with more questions than I’d come in with and none of the answers I’d been hoping to find in the coffee shop.

Dejected, I left the shop and decided to explore the city a bit – or at least make my way toward the nicer part of town.

**

I spent the next few nights at a youth hostel and my days wandering. I figured the more I wandered aimlessly along the streets, the closer I’d come to some sort of an answer.

However every time I tried to work things logically out, all I came away with was a massive headache.

It just wasn’t the sort of thing that could be reasoned out, much to my dismay.

In the chill of the late morning, I wandered through a small park as I’d done several times already throughout the past few days.

I loved watching the last few leaves tumble off the branches of the now almost barren trees as I walked.
First thing in the morning, frost dusted the grass and dead leaves covering the ground, letting me know that winter was just about here.

I rubbed my hands together fiercely before stuffing them into the pockets of the bulky Goodwill coat I’d bought a few days ago.

Though watching the sunlight reflect brightly off the frosted park around me, the cold was leeching into my bones, making my teeth chatter and face sting.

No childish screams echoed through the park this morning. It was silent and cold as if the entire park had been frozen over, entombing it and its occupants in an icy prison.

I blew out a breath and watched it drift away.

Suddenly, I had the desire for a steaming mug of hot chocolate and began to turn around, retracing my steps toward a coffee shop located just across the street from the other end of the park.