In The Hood

Delving into the darkness, I kept hold of the bag, praying that I could escape. Begging my legs to stay strong and to keep going even though they throbbed. I was out of breath, struggling not to rasp. Silence wasn't necessary, but if I submitted to the suffering, I would stop, and that could not happen. Not when they were following.

Tonight was exceptionally dark, at least, the direct view above me was dim. As for the world around me, it was two brick walls, the sound of heavy metal boots echoing through the streets and a neon path ahead. My eyes narrowed as I winced at the harsh light, avoiding it was almost impossible.

Reaching the red door, I looked back at the alley. Thumping my hand on the door, I turned to it as the panel slid over. The foreboding eyes narrowed at me.

"You've got a lot of nerve coming back here."

"True but I am here which must mean something, right?"

"Yeah, you're out of money again."

I snorted a huff, finding it mildly amusing.

"No, you're right. You don't care about money. You've been kicked out of that hovel you call home."

"I missed your sense of humor."

Looking back up the alley, I listened to the ominous sound as it grew closer.

"Come on man, open the door."

"You think I can't see them? You brought them to my door yet again, Violet. We're done."

"I did not bring them here, they are not following me. Please open it before they search the area and find me."

Because if I walked out of the alley, they'd see me. As for the path to my left, that was not much better. It was a mall that was bright and filled with the masses pretending that their lives were their own. Like they weren't controlled. Mindless zombies that did what they were told.

This path was a cut through, but no one used it because it was dark and narrow. It was a grimy path to the grungy side of town.

Hearing a huff, the panel slide and then a series of locks being opened. I didn't dare smile, if the door were open to me grinning like an idiot, it would be slammed shut in my face. One stone cold facade, ready to grovel if need be.

As the door opened, Brady leaned one arm on the frame, the other kept hold of the door. Not a flicker of emotion to his face, just the hardened glare that I was used to. Brady was once the good kid. He did well at school and life at home was easy. I'd heard his story a thousand times before today, usually when he was drunk and lamenting about how one action can turn a good life into a terrible one.

He'd been caught trying to sneak out of school early, sent to detention for punishment. When he should have been at home, he was stuck at school. It was the best thing, not that Brady would ever admit it. At home, they invaded and destroyed everything. Why? Brady's father had said something, and somewhere in this horrible city, a microphone heard it.

Somehow, Brady's teacher found out, and he took him away from the school, hiding him within an underground movement. With his family dead, Brady had no one, so the movement took in the gifted young man and gave him a home with a whole lot of comfort.

None of it mattered to Brady, he'd lost his family, and he wanted to die with them. He didn't think that there was any point to this life now that they were gone. For a while, he had hope. It came in the form of another lost soul, the young girl with violet eyes. He called her Violet even though her name was Vivien. She was fractionally younger than him, almost like a little sister. He cared for her, comforting her when she was scared. He understood what it was like to lose everything.