Catharsis [Novel]

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

            Once out on the street, I try not to let the excitement of my adventure overwhelm my thinking.  "Being outside and in the public can be dangerous," I remind myself.  "I was out and about last night and nearly got tangled up with law enforcement.  I'll need to be smarter."

            Unfortunately as I stroll down the street towards what I suspect might be civilization, heeding those thoughts are easier said than done.  Part of my brain understands that being around people right now is dangerous, but at the same time I'm lonely.  Aside from that loneliness, there is a deep desire within me to be around humans.  I'm drawn to them.  Or at least I'm drawn to the idea of them.  I really want to see another person and not have to crouch in fear or worry about them being scared of me.  I want to interact.  I want to talk.  I want to be a part of society.

            But is it safe?  Safe for me?  Safe for them?  Just...safe in general? 

            My mind ponders those questions (And the ramifications of what will happen if I'm not careful about them.) as my feet pound the pavement and carry me further away from my warehouse.  I'm not concerned about a specific direction; I'm just letting my feet carry me as I enjoy the night air and the thought of maybe “accidentally” bumping into someone makes me smile.  I haven't said "hello" to another person since when?  That morning at the bus stop, maybe?

            After over a half hour of meandering around empty streets throughout the abandoned section of the city that I call my home, I realize I'm approaching an island of lights.  The occasional street lights I've been passing have become more frequent and in front of me now is a dilapidated strip mall with a handful of shops still showing life.  On a scale of one to scary, this place would have definitely kept me in the car with the doors locked at one time.  But now I'm not so worried.  Now I'd much rather have a chance of running into a person (Any person really.  Even a scary person is better than the "no person" I've been dealing with.  Lazzy's great, and he'll keep me from going insane, but I still can't have a conversation with him.) than worry about whether that person will try to rob or murder me.  And if they did try?  Well, that's a thought that just makes me smile.

            Standing several hundred yards away from the strip mall in the relative darkness of a side street, I watch the front entrance to see how busy the place is at this time of evening.  It is only the middle of the week (Somehow my brain has kept perfect track of both what day of the week it is – Thursday - and the time - 9pm.  I have no idea how I know this, but I do.  Just part of how my brain works now, I guess.), so it still appears to be relatively deserted.  Before I continue, I squat down with my back against the light pole (Out of instinct I've chosen a light that is either burnt out or busted.  Either way its painful donut of white halogen isn't pelting me right now.) and slowly consider what I'm about to do.

            After everything I've gone through, I'm about to cross this street and enter a public building with living people in it and attempt to do what?  Purchase supplies for a prison-cell sized closet in an empty warehouse in an abandoned section of the city so that I can make my pet stray dog more comfortable?  This is where I am right now?  This is what I want to do?

            "Yup.  It is," I tell myself.  "I need to prove to myself that this is something that I can do.  I either walk into this small store and buy supplies like a normal human, or I give up the charade of pretending that I will ever fit in."

            At the same time, though, there's no point being stupid about all of this.  My father always told me that 'caution was the better part of valor' or something to that effect.  When I questioned him on what it meant, he told me to 'not rush stupidly into things.  Think before acting.'  It's been good advice, and it's advice I plan to follow now.

            Keeping an eye on the store's entrance for activity, I run down my biggest worries about what might happen.  It's a pretty short list.  First and foremost is my hunger taking over, and I end up attacking an innocent person.  My desperation for interpersonal contact may be unharnessing the restraints of my caution, but hurting somebody is beyond what I can accept.

            With that in mind, I breathe deeply and try to get a grip on my hunger.  I can feel it resting like a furry kitten in the pit of my body.  It's warm and comforting (in a disturbing but reassuring way) and quiet, but I know if I wake it up it will be a holy terror (Hmmm...how ironic.  Somehow I don't think anything about my situation has anything to do with God or holiness.) that will leave nothing but destruction and shredded drapes (Come on, that's a nice metaphor!) in its wake.  But for now it is settled and its previously insistent pressure is non-existent.  Apparently my plan to not use my abilities has paid off.  Not trying to stress myself has allowed that part of me to lay dormant.  Small victory.

            So if my hunger isn't an issue, then what else is holding me back?

            "Poopsicle!"  I mutter with the realization that I never even thought to bring money.  Patting my pockets, I quickly searchfor my wallet and the small collection of bills I could use for tonight's venture.  After several frantic moments of digging through various pockets, I uncover it.  Opening it up, I see my remaining few bills and my debit card my parents have insisted I have so that I could learn responsibility.
            The debit card was certainly a significant treasure for me to find, but it brings with it even more issues.  I can be tracked through it.  More specifically, my parents can use it to locate where I am.  
            For the past several days I have been working hard to not think about my family.  At all.  It's too painful to think about what they might be going through with my absence.  I could call them, but what do I tell them?  What would I even say?  I'm not even sure what's going on myself, let alone know enough to try and explain it to someone else.  Do I want them to know where I am?  Would that make things better for me?  Or worse?
            And then an idea hits me.  This debit card can be a message that I send to them.  I know my father is an intelligent man, and he will have the police looking for this card.  Or he'll be watching the transactions that pop up on the account himself so that he can see where I surface and come find me (Normally that would be a good thing, and the thought of how much he loves me and how much he must be hurting right now is almost enough to tear me in two.  Almost.  But going home to my family right now is just too scary of a thought to even contemplate.  What if the hunger struck while I was at home with my family?  What if I attacked them?  No.  That is something that I can never let happen.).  If I use the card tonight, then I know he will come here to ask about me.  If he comes here, then that means I can leave him a message so that he knows I'm safe.  But what kind of message?  And how?
            Watching a sketchy, tattooed teenager in mechanic's coveralls (Even from here I can see the bright yellow emblem of a discount muffler store emblazoned on the back.) enter the store, the answer comes to me.  If the store's normal clientele look anything like that kid, then they must have security cameras throughout the place.  I just need to make sure I'm seen on the cameras and that I look safe and relatively happy.  That will be my message.  It's not the best message, but it'll work.