"Get up! Get up! Get the fuck up!" I heard Devin yell as he violently shook me out of the deepest sleep I've had in a long while.
I rubbed my eyes aggressively. I could barely see him as there was no electricity in our tiny room.
"What is it, man?" I asked groggily, my voice was hoarse with sleep. I saw my brother grabbing his clothes that were scattered on the floor and stuffing them into a black duffel bag. He ignored my question and continued to ram his clothes into the bag. What is his deal?
"Devin!" I shouted to get his attention.
"Keep quiet Darius and get off your ass! We gotta go. It's the police", he said still grabbing things from around the messy room.
"What? Where's Dahlia?" I asked noticing that her bed was empty in the far corner, but all her things were still there, scattered about the tiny space. What did they do now?
"I don't fucking know. Help me get this shit together." I got up and started to grab my clothes from the drawers, matching the hurried pace of my older brother. Something was wrong. I could feel it in my gut. When I went to bed they were both here, and now Devin was running from the police and Dahlia was nowhere to be found.
I grabbed the few t-shirts I had and my only jacket. I started to grab all my texts, notebooks and the wires, and scraps of metal I had collected from a dumpster earlier that day.
"Leave that stuff. We have to travel light." Where are we even going? I was tempted to ask but now was not the time.
"I am not leaving my books," I stated adamantly. Devin didn't bother to argue, as the police being on his tail superseded my books.
"Got everything?" he asked zipping up his bag and slinging it over his shoulder.
"Yea, I think so. Where are we going?"
"Quit asking questions, we just can't stay here." He cracked open the double-hung window and the icy cold of the Berlington night air whipped my bare skin. His snappiness was something I had gotten used to. It often showed when he was irritated.
"Put on your jacket," he instructed.
I shrugged on the jacket. Devin jiggled the window with aggression, forcing it to open fully. The increase in moisture in the air had caused the wooden framing to swell. Once we crawled through the window, we were now on a landing that was about six feet below ground level.
Devin was much taller than I was, so he hopped up easily, slinging the bag over his shoulder. On the other hand, I had to jump in order to reach the edge.
We could hear the sirens coming from up the street, close to the school we used to attend, so I followed him as he headed downwards where the concrete storm gullies were. The sirens grew louder so we quickened our pace to a run. I looked back at the house we had called home for the last two months, unsure of where we would end up next.
It was an old abandoned wooden house, with rotting boards and broken glass, but the basement was made of concrete. It served us well to keep out the cold on the icy winter nights. It wasn't much, but, it was sure as hell better than living with Barry and Margaret.
We ran until the sirens were barely audible. It was clear that they probably had given up the chase. Devin had good practice with evading the police. He often ran through back alleys, other people's yards and leaped over fences. They rarely ever chased on foot, but if he was, the pot-bellied police couldn't keep up with his athleticism.
We reached the storm gullies after a few minutes of running. These gullies would normally be filled with stormwater washed from the city roads, carrying the city's garbage with it. That was only when there was an abundance of rain. There hadn't been any for weeks, so it would be overrun with the cities hooligans, homeless, and addicts instead- the city's other garbage.
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General FictionSince the age of 11, Devin was forced to be the protector of his family. With no parents or real home, Darius, his younger brother and Dahlia, his older sister, survived day to day on the street. In a city like Berlington, shoplifting was a must and...