Calamity

Chapter 2

I can’t recall the last time, someone asked me how I was.

Last I checked I was a fucking wreck, I called for help, but no one showed up.

I guess being alone isn’t always such a horrible thing. It can save you from making regrettable mistakes, and meeting sinful strangers who want to cause nothing but trouble. You don’t fall under pressure by partaking in whatever illegal activities your peers are doing, so you can go ahead by doing your own thing without feeling embarrassed or ashamed. You can do whatever you like without someone keeping a watchful eye over your shoulder; you’re free to make your own decisions.

It’s a weird, but nice feeling when catching the public bus or train while listening to music as you’re surrounded by strangers. It’s refreshing and almost indescribable. The feeling is something new and it allows you to really think about your future and important decisions.

Being alone isn’t so bad, but feeling alone is a whole other story.

Feeling alone is where you can be surrounded by a sea of people, but you can’t converse with another. You can’t tell someone how you feel, or what’s wrong, or hear the sound of a person’s opinion besides your own. You’re stuck with only your thoughts to keep you company, and sometimes, that’s a taunting thing.

A mind can be deceitful; it can trick you into thinking your whole world is crashing down around you, or that nobody cares about your existence, like they wouldn’t batter an eyelid if you weren’t around any longer. It has the power to completely control your body, making you do horrible things to others, including yourself.

I’ve been feeling alone for three whole months, whereas I technically haven’t been physically alone in weeks. No matter where I go or what I do, I’m constantly followed by a herd of men. Harry’s father promised me a life of normality in America; he lied to me.

I’m in no better position than what I was with Harry. I’ve been thrown from one gang into another, dealing with an asshole leader, and a group of violent men – varying from the ages of 15 to 65 – who think they’re mightier than Satan.

They’re absolute monsters who hold no significance for human life, and pick up innocent women from the street, claiming them for the night until they find someone better. They kill anybody who threatens to take them down, and control majority of drug dealings and illegal underground fighting matches. They basically control the streets of New York and call themselves “Calamity” – long story short; they’re the American version of One Direction.

“I don’t get why we have to go early,” Dean snarled from the front seat.

“You know the deal with newcomers,” Ace replied simply, which caused Dean to remain silent.

Ace was the leader of Calamity. He was in his early twenties and nowhere near as good looking compared to Harry; he didn’t like to shave or wash his ebony hair, he didn’t like it when people commented on his constant smoking habits, and he hated it when someone was to raise their voice against him. I learned that the hard way the first night I met him.

Dean was his third in command. He was two or three years older than Ace, and he was smarter and more logical about things. He wasn’t nearly as buff as the other men I’ve seen in Calamity, but I wouldn’t necessarily consider him weak. He was built, but he rarely visited the gym or practiced boxing – he always had two guns with him, and he claims that’s all he needs to keep safe. Idiot.

Then there was Milo who was around thirty; he was the second in command, and he’s evil as hell. He liked to get his hands dirty with blood, and he lusts after killing men above his weight. He loves fighting – it’s in his blood. He always sports large trench coats and dark clothing, that way it was easier to hide his weapons for surprise attacks or when their gang were making arrangements with unknown opponents.