Sweet Dreams, Eli

Me vs. The World

Homeless youth are, on average, approached by sex traffickers
within 72 hours of being on the streets.

Eli

I shiver a little against the chill in the air, it may only be early October but at 5:00 am it might as well be December. Headlights grow bigger as they approach down the street and I pull more hood forward to hide my face and lean back against the bus structure. When the car has past, I take a deep breath and try to relax. I've only been gone fifteen minutes and the sun isn't up yet, no one is looking for me.

Finally, I spot the bus. Finally, might be a bit dramatic, I glance at my watch, it's exactly 5:08, the bus is actually early. The bus comes to a stop and I climb on. It's empty except for one other guy sitting in the back. I hand the driver my fare and sink into a seat, blowing on my hands to warm up, the bus is heated but it'll take a minute to get rid of the chill.

I lean my head against the window and stare out at darkened buildings as they fly by. I'm actually doing this, I'm running away. I've thought about it a million times before, but actually leaving? Never.

I must fall asleep because I'm jolted awake by the bus driver calling out my stop. Groggily I grab my backpack and stumble down the steps and out the doors, sucking in a breath at the sudden rush of cold air. I huddle down in the bus shelter, my connecting bus won't be here for a few minutes, at least.

My phone buses in my pocket and I pull it out.

I had debated leaving it behind, it doesn't really belong to me after all, but I knew I might need it to get in touch with Dom.

It's not Dominic, it's Alanna.

Where are you?

I ignore it and stuff the phone back in my pocket just as another text comes through. I sigh and pull it out again.

Are you okay?

Alanna again, I groan and put it away again. It chimes again and I ignore it. And again. And again. I pull it out and silence the barrage of notifications that follow. But I can't help reading a few.

Eli, answer us. We're really worried.

Just let us know you're okay.

Whatever is wrong we can work it out.

Come home.

I blink and press the power off button and bury the phone deep in the bottom of my backpack.

They care, the voice in my head whispers. I ignore it. It's hasn't even been an hour and they noticed you were gone, it adds, go home.

I am going home, I argue, I'm going to live with my brother.

Don't you want more than that, a real family? Parents? The voice teases.

No, I don't the other part of me insists.

Really? There's no part of you that wanted to be part of that family?

"No." I say aloud. I really need to stop arguing with myself. I grit my teeth and focus on blocking out the voice, it works, mostly.

Thankfully the bus pulls up at that moment and I climb onboard, grateful for both the heat and the distraction.

When the bus finally stops near Dominic's apartment, I climb out, hardly noticing the cold this time. I speed walk down the street and past unfamiliar building trying to remember where to turn.

I know I could pull out my phone and look up instruction but I want to avoid that at all costs, if I can. But after fifteen minutes of walking, I have to admit that I'm lost. Groaning internally, I unzip my bag and dig around for the phone. I pull it out and glance at the screen. I have twenty-two missed texts, not only from my foster parents but from Chloe, Cason, and Zoe too. Plus 14 missed calls, all from my foster family.