Lost Years: Prequel to Back Home

Year 4: Chapter 1

Cold. So, so cold. I only have a thin sweatshirt to try to keep me warm, it's the only thing I could afford with the meager savings I was able to gather in a few weeks. But it keeps getting colder and I can't sleep. The concrete is cold and wet with snow and ice. A few subway grates offer temporary relief from the never relenting cold, blasts of hot air from the train below being a salvation. My nose was constantly running, leading to me rubbing it raw. My whole face hurts from congestion, and the cold air burns my lungs.

I feel like I'm going to get sick. I don't sleep hardly ever and when I do it's either against a cold metal bench or the ground. I rub my hands against my arms trying to generate heat in both with minimal success. I keep walking down the street. That's all I can do to stay warm, keep myself active so that my body keeps generating heat. Adults shoot me disgusted looks, and I can't blame them. It's the middle of January and I'm not dressed for the weather, and I can only sneak into so many free gyms to shower every now and then. I can feel that my hair is a greasy mess. Plus, walking around with wet hair isn't the best idea since it'll only freeze and won't dry until it could thaw out.

I feel like much more of a spectacle now. It makes it harder for me to steal money. I feel like people are staring at me everywhere I go, but I have to push through it to get the money. I need the money to make sure I can keep myself going and alive and make it through this winter. There's no hope of having enough money to get me into a hotel, or even a motel. Not even for a night. It's too expensive and I need the money for food and to save up for finding a way home.

Home, god I wish I were there. Tucked in bed, or lounging on the couch under a warm blanket watching TV with Dad or Delia or Adam or Barbara. I miss them so much. I miss that house. A part of me wants to know that they're still there, that maybe they're still waiting for me, still looking for me. But, I'm eighteen now. Maybe they gave up hope. It's almost been four full years, without them hearing anything from me. Sure, maybe some word of possible sightings of me got back to them, and maybe they've tried to find me, but I don't know. I don't know what they've done and how much they've looked. I don't know if they stopped looking. As much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn't blame them for giving up on finding me.

I can feel myself shaking as I walk. I always forget how brutal the winter weather is until I'm out in it. I don't think I'll ever forget now. I think the memory of this winter is going to be etched into my memory forever. I step into an alley to get out of the wind and eye of the public. I pull the small stash of money that I got today from my pocket. It's barely over twenty dollars. Add that to the rest of the money I have saved and I have just shy of eighty. Once it gets warmer I can start cutting down on food since I won't need to eat as frequently to keep my energy as high. I won't need to keep myself warm as much then. Summer is going to come with its own obstacles, but I can deal with that later. Right now, I need to find a place to eat. I haven't eaten in two days, so it was time for me to eat.

That was my pattern, buy food and eat every two days. Long enough time that I don't feel too starved and exhausted, but not frequent enough for me to be wasting money. I wish I could find more ways to save money, but I'm cutting so many corners as is. The only other thing that's helping is the fact that over the last four years I've lost so much weight from infrequent eating that periods are sporadic at best.

I pocket my earnings from today and head back onto the main street. I look up and down the street, trying to find someplace I can buy food. I see a 7-eleven up the street and start heading towards it. As I walk, I find an abandoned five-dollar bill on the ground and it almost feels like a blessing to be able to get money easily like that. The bill is damp and gritty from dirt and salt, but money is money. I pocket it and continue walking.