Hidden Behind My Back

The man on the bench read his paper intently. Once finished he started again, scouring the torn pages for anything he had missed. Satisfied he hadn’t left anything; he folded it up and then lay across the bench, head resting on the folded paper. His feet hung off the bench, he put one arm over his head and that’s how he stayed for the next ten minutes.

His clothes suggested he wasn’t poor, he was clean shaven and his hair was well cut and kept, so he wasn’t homeless, just hiding perhaps. Pretending.  I wanted to follow him, learn more about the sleeping man but he got a taxi. I watched until the black car was lost.  It was getting cold and I hadn’t eaten since- I couldn’t even remember when I had last eaten. I uncrossed my legs, trying to ignore the pins and needles; I headed off, trudging through the streets.

I wondered around town, looking for a bus, any bus; it didn’t matter where to, just far away. The streets were empty, the odd straggler and pigeon strutted brashly along the paved path, both tripping on the cracks. The street lamps made everything look sickly and strangely alive. Smaller building vanished in the shadows of towering builds, all finely finished and delicately persevered.

I traipsed from bus stop to bus stop; they were all shut down for the night, the only one running, went to the train station. There are always too many people at a train station, no matter what time it was. I kept walking; I had covered about a mile, hoping I would find either an open shop or walk for long enough that the buses would kick back into action, both were near impossible. Maybe I could catch the early hour’s bus, it started at 2, and it was now 12, only 2 hours to kill. I couldn’t wait at the stop because it was outside of the police station. The bus made only three official stops, I think. Though I think the driver might let me off anywhere. I couldn’t remember.  But I was sure I had taken that bus before. Just when? I riffled through my pockets; I barely had enough for the bus, just a load of 5 pence’s. Perhaps the driver wouldn’t notice, it looked about right, I doubt he would count it properly but I needed to eat. I needed to find a shop.

The temperature had started to drop, every time I breathed; I blew out a thin cloud of murky white. I shoved my hands deep inside my pockets and tried to bury my face into the top my jacket, my lip was pressed against the cold zip, my teeth chattered uncontrollably, I clenched my jaw harder and trekked on.  The streets were completely deserted now, as I rounded the corner, I was met by a flashing neon glass beer bottle, sat proudly in a grimy shop window. ‘Open all hours’ the sign read, perfect. I slipped my bag of my shoulder and unzipped the top, just enough, holding it so the opening could not be seen. I then rolled up my jeans, crudely bunching them up around my knee, gingerly I half peeled off the large plaster below my knee. As I pulled, a partly healed cut reopened; there was only a tiny trickle of blood.

I quickly pulled off the rest of the plaster; blood gushed down my leg, dripping heavily onto the pavement, soaking my sock and puddled around my dirty white pumps.  I tugged my hair out of the messy bun and let it fall around my face. I let a few tears fall along my freezing cheeks, then stumbled into the shop, holding onto my leg, my breathing heavy and chocked.  

A man in his mid- thirty’s straightened up, his eyes were wide, too wide. He slowly put his beer bottle down below the counter, and looked sideways at me, annoyed that he had been disturbed.

“OH.MY. Thankgod foundyou, I couldn’t find anyone and, and, everywhere was shut!” I spluttered through my hair and a stream of tears. He looked confused and slowly brushed his porn magazine off the counter.  “I was walking and, I tripped. Look at all the blood!”  I slowed my speech and breathed in deeply, holding my breath as though I was in a lot of pain.  He finally caught on and stumbled round the counter. He took one look at all the blood and backed away quickly.

“I will get a first aid kit. Yeah that’s what I will do. Stay there.” He turned, skidded back behind the counter and bolted up the stairs. As soon as he was gone I got started, shoving as much stuff in my bag as possible. Something from each shelf, so it wasn’t too noticeable.  I managed to keep my hair covering my face; though I doubted they had any security cameras, if they did they were probably just for show.

On one of the shelves there were basic First aid kits, I bagged two of those, wondering how long it would take him to remember he had any. Seconds later he ran noisily back down and searched the shelves. I plonked myself on the floor and watched, amused as he fumbled about with the simple latch on the box. He held the plaster up over my leg, not really wanting to be near the blood. I grabbed it and stuck it roughly on.

“Thanks!” I headed for the door, he rose doubtfully.

“Hey, wait, man!” he grabbed my arm.

“Let go of me.” I growled, and shock him off. He stepped back, his hands in the air.

“Hey I don’t want no trouble, babe. But I called you an ambulance, so you should wait.” 

Fuck, this wasn’t good.  He came closer and put his hand reassuringly on my arm.  I had little options.  I pulled my iPod out of my pocket, held it up to my face, and stepped closer to the door.

“Don’t touch my, pedo, or I will call the police. “ It was a risky idea but it worked. He backed off quickly, his eyes darted quickly to the counter, then back to me. He was hiding something.

“I don’t want that. No police, ok girly, lets not do that.”  He was more than drunk; he tapped his foot nervously, his fingers twitching. His eyes were red and wide, the pupils a little too big. Drugs. I smiled. I had him, trapped.

“Then I am going to go now and when that ambulance comes, you are going to tell them that I am a short, 18year old, blonde haired girl and I headed towards the train stations, ok?” He nodded submissively.  “Good.”

 I hastily jogged out of the shop, shaking down my jeans.  After a good few meters I slowed down, I didn’t stay too long on one street but weaved in and out of allies and took random detours. I knew exactly where I was, no matter which route I took, I recognised no street names, nothing held any meaning, there were no landmarks I remembered but somehow I felt as though I could not get lost. I knew my way around.

 I meant to walk slower, take my time, only my legs were burning from the cold, my feet were blistering. My fingers stung as I tried to rip open a chocolate wrapper. My hand kept slipping. Unable to clench or move my fingers properly, I just bit the top off and spat out as much of the wrapper as I could. I eat much too quickly giving myself indigestion, which didn’t help the tightening cramp in my sides.

I stopped, out of breath and bent double; now would be a good time to have my inhaler.

I didn’t remember having an inhaler. Do I need one? Another thing I should know, my mind was too foggy, and nothing made sense. It was probably the cold, that explanation was enough for now.

Under the a dim street light, I examined my leg; the blood had soaked through, leaving dark brown patches in the thick denim, the damp fabric stuck heavily to my skin. I grabbed a bottle from my bag and poured the cold water over my leg. It took the whole bottle to clean it up, leaving my with a numb, wet leg. I wrapped a bandage over the cut and securely tapped it down, with loads of the thin, tacky medical tape, from one of the kits. The roll quickly ran out, it was just enough to stop the bandage from falling off. I recovered my leg, careful not to disturbed my amateur bandage, that made bending my leg harder. I tried not to limp; it would only slow me down and made me visibly vulnerable.

I searched through my pockets as I walked, trying to piece together this stupid messed up puzzle, and maybe I would find all the missing things that I just couldn’t place in my head. I had nothing but the change and a packet of gum. I flicked through my IPod, it was clean, brand new even, and it still had the screen cover on it. There was no music, no names, addresses or photos.

 Empty.

 I just felt so empty, like I had lost something.

 How had I got the cut on my leg? And how did I have the guts to walk into a shop and rob it? Was this what I was like?

‘Always stay one step ahead.’  These words played over and over, like an emergency warning, a built in, security system.   Well, at least I had some Idea of what I needed to do. Stay ahead… ahead of what or who?  This was stupid.

A large minivan drove past, it lights turned low. The windows were blacked out. The car had several scratches on it, no number plates, just black metal. I shrank back out of the light of the lamps and car, and turned into a side street, the car turned too. I hurried along the path, turning randomly along roads and occasionally backtracking.  The car didn’t follow but I wasn’t taking any chances, I sprinted up an unlit road, looking for somewhere to hide. I ducked behind a wall and sure enough there was the car.  The door slid open as it drove, trawling the street. Two large men leaned out, scouring the street, flash lights in hand.

It stopped for a second, the door slammed shut, and it sped off, tires screeching.  I bit my lip and pretended I didn’t want to cry. I pulled myself up. My legs were shaking, my hands shook; I clenched them , my nails digging painfully into my palms.  I stood up too quickly, my head spun; I sunk down onto the balls of my feet, dizzy and lightheaded. With my head hung between my knees, I forced myself to breathe slowly. I was not going to have a panic attack, here, at night, nothing had happened. I was being stupid.  It took a while for the tightness in my chest to pass; my back was damp with cold sweat.

I straighten up and jumped over the wall, wavering slightly; my feet not ready or willing to move.  Pulling my jacket tighter around me and  marched off, annoyed with myself, for being so childish.  All I really wanted to do was to go home but my mind offered no clue as to where that was. No memory of a house, no recollection of parents, nothing. Just a foggy black space, filled with things of no real importance, like how to execute a proper round house kick, I couldn’t help but laugh, here I was near to tears because I didn’t know what the hell is going on and a car was following me and the only helpful thing I can think of is, how to kick someone.

The black car swerved round the corner and onto the kerb, it accelerated towards me.  It stopped just as I was backed against a wall, nowhere to go. The doors shot open, 3 men clambered out. They were all dressed, head to toe in black, expensive looking suits. They stood a couple of paces from me, backs straight and to attention.  Their eyes were fixed on me, harsh, militarian glares. One stepped forward and put out his hand for my bag.

“I’ll carry that for you.” As he took another step closer, I kicked him hard in the side, and bolted past as he fell to the ground. Someone jumped roughly onto my back, forcing me down onto the floor, a knee jabbed between my shoulders forcing me down. The man I had just kicked knelt close to my face, and smiled, a hard pressed smile.  The weight on me shifted, someone forced me to turn over but stayed pressing me down into the ground. The three men looked down at me.

“Alright, get her up. We’re late.”  The man on top of me got up; I rolled to my side, grateful to be able to breathe properly. A hand grabbed onto my arm, as he pulled me up I grabbed his leg and dragged him down, his head hit the concrete hard, the sound echoed round the empty street. I fell unbalanced at his feet. He swore and kicked me hard in my stomach, sending me across the floor and into a wall.  One of them ambled towards me, grabbing onto my wrists, stopping my punches. Someone grabbed my legs; I was being lifted into the car. I struggled and twisted, lashing out.  They got me as close as the doors when I saw them. All these quite kids, staring, bug eyed at me from the van; they seemed shocked that I was fighting. Some shook their heads in disbelieve. 

“You bastards.” I shouted at both the men and the kids, who sat quiet and not helping.

I spun aggressively, causing the burley men to trip and drop me. I fell, crashing against the metal body of the van, my foot bent, beneath me.  I jumped up hastily, a sharp piercing pain shot up  my ankle as I tried to run. Something crashed  against my shoulder, the pain was unbelievable.  Bright, flashes of white flickered before my eyes; I stumbled, reaching out, trying to stay upright.  Hands grabbed me, holding me upright. There was a quick cold stabbing pain in my arm, a needle. My skin burned, hot and painful, my legs gave way beneath me. A thick ridged strap was tightened around my wrists. I forced my eyes open, desperate to fight against the dark that was steadily closing in. I clung, deliriously onto the arm holding me down.

1. revelations-of-a-hermit liked this
2. theteathief posted this