The Deal Taker (Book III)

Prologue: 2007

Prologue

2007

I'M DYING. I think I'm actually going to die this time. I felt like it, at least. My body was turning against me, and I was no longer the peppy Joanna I was a few days ago. A few days ago I was dancing on the bar, and I even ran through the alley later on. I could barely drag my feet now. I'm a mess. Wrecked. Broken. I'm dying, and no one will miss me. That's the bitter truth.

The snow was to my knees as I tried to force myself to keep moving and not give up. I'm stronger than this. I've been shot before, and I've fought men twice my size. Walking in my condition made those things seem like nothing. I was basically standing at the gates of hell, with one foot inside and the other one planted in the Chicago snow. I don't know which was going to push me all the way over the threshold of the fiery gates: detox or starvation.

My jeans were soaked, just as my thin grey hoodie with a tear in the right elbow. Maybe I should add freezing to death as another way I might die tonight? It might just be beating detox in the race to end my life. Jeans, a t-shirt, a hoodie, and sneakers; that's all I owned. The shirt and hoodie weren't mine, but instead belonged to a douche who tried to steal from me last month while I slept. The rest of my clothes I left in the back of my broken car in some alleyway. Should've just stayed in the car, at least my body would be discovered before spring.

The building I've been searching for came into sight. I didn't know much about the place, but from what I've heard, it can fix me. I wasn't sure whether the building would be closed or not. It was around nine o'clock at night, after all. But I couldn't wait for it to open. I didn't have time. If I turned around right now I knew I wouldn't come back. Chances are, I'd end back at the bar with someone pouring Tequila down my throat. No, I had to do this now or die at the steps of the building.

I tried the icy doorknob, but it didn't turn. My desperation increased and I found myself practically slamming against the door with what little strength I had. My body held no chance at breaking the door down, not in the state it has become. My body had no muscle or fat. I was skin and bones, and it was entirely my fault. I've destroyed myself.

The door opened, causing me to fall on my hands and knees inside the building. I whimpered when my knees hit because there was no padding between the hard tile and my kneecaps.

"Are you okay?" asked a voice clearly belonging to a man.

I looked up with my hair in my face and feet still handing outside in the cold. "I need you to fix me. Please, jut fix me!"

The man looked down at me with pity in his royal blue eyes. He knelt down, making it to where he was nearly at eyelevel to me. He looked like he was about to tell me to leave, but he stopped himself when I began tearing up. "...Have you eaten anything?"

I shook my head, wiping a tear from my cheek with the back of my hand. "I need to be better. I need to save her from it all."

He rubbed his stubbly cheek with his hand. "Who?"

"My sister," I choked out, haunted by the memory of her on the street, more broken than me.

He stood up and offered his hand to me, which I hesitantly took. I barely had the strength to stand up. "What's your name?"

"Joanna."

"Joanna?" He gave me a friendly smile, wrinkling the corners of his eyes. "I'm David. Come inside and get warm. I'll put on some coffee and get some bagels out. It's going to be a tough and painful week for you, but I promise I will help you through it. I also promise this will be the toughest thing you'll ever have to go through again."