Does it hurt?

            I walked awkwardly down the urban streets of New Orleans, glancing at the different structures of the buildings and the odd people coming out of them.  I sensed a kind of loathing and tiredness from each person I had passed, each of them looking down at the littered ground, making sure not to look into the eyes of others 

            I had come to hate this place. Everything changes so quickly.  Nothing ever stays the same.  I eyed everything and everyone suspiciously in case they decided to pounce me. I had come to realize…nothing is what it seems.

            Does it hurt?

            “You jerk!”

            I wondered if they were referring to me.  Usually any insult was thrown only at me.  No matter what the reason.

            I felt my body jerk forward as something collided into me.  I was able to steady myself as I watched the supposed attacker speed past me.

            “You get back here now!”

            I turned to see who was yelling these threats.  It was a man who looked to be around 40 years of age, rugged looking, and very out of shape.  He had a cigarette hanging out of his chapped lips, which had almost fallen as he screamed after the person who had fled.

            I quickly averted my eyes from the horrid man, and went back to walking aimlessly around New Orleans.

            It grew dark and the light posts went on, one by one, as I silently sung my way along.  I had no idea where my destination was. I had been walking for more than 4 hours, not knowing anything about these streets and how dangerous they might be.

            “Where ya headed?”

            I jerked my neck to the speaker, who had been leaning casually on a brick wall of an old run down apartment building.  I didn’t notice the person as I walked, so when I heard a voice beside me, I swear, I almost peed my pants.

            “Yello? Anybody home?”

            I took a good look at this person, a woman she was.  She was dressed in tight leather vest and black leggings to match.  Her hair was an ash blonde, which fell down to her shoulders. A prostitute.

            “How old are you kid? You shouldn’t be walking around these streets. You could get yourself in big trouble.” She took out a bent cigarette from her tiny wallet.  I had no idea where it had come from.  Taking a long drag from the cigarette, she looked me up and down.

            I just stood there like a dumb idiot.  What was I supposed to do anyway? Walk away was a good idea.

            I turned and walked away without a word.

            “Well fine then! You little…”

            I kept going.  What was I doing here? I need to go back home.  Home, which was four hours away. I mentally slapped myself.  What did I get myself into?

            I started to run.  I was afraid. Yes, me afraid.  Am I going to piss my pants yet? I hope not! I don’t have no money to wash them!

            My idiotic thoughts were interrupted as I slammed head on into something. That something was a person.  Why me?

            “Ow! You stupid idiot! What the hell is your problem?”

            I looked down at the person underneath me.

            Does it hurt?

            A boy. 

            “Get off me!” He quickly pushed me off and stood up.  He dusted himself off and combed his hair back with his fingers.

            I looked up at him and glared.  He was the same guy that pushed into me earlier, the one that ran like hell from that greasy old guy.

            “Yeah? Can I help you?” he said with an annoyed tone.

            I stood up slowly.  My knees were in pain. I need to go home.  I felt his eyes on me as I glared at the ground. 

            “What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be home? How old are you?” he asked quietly.

            What am I doing here? I should be at home.

            I didn’t know what it was going to take to get there. Almost 4 hours to get here. Then 4 hours to get back.  How did this happen?

            I really hated New Orleans.

            The boy shrugged and turned away into an alley.  I watched him as he disappeared into the darkness, feeling fear and panic sweep over me again.

            I shuddered, realizing he was gone.  I walked slowly into the alley, not seeing a thing.

            “Hey? You there?” My voice quivered. I hated myself at the moment. I’ll take that back, I always hate myself.

            I didn’t get a reply.  It was so dark.

            I tripped and landed hard on the floor.  I groaned as I tasted blood fill my wounded mouth.

            I began to crawl, feeling wet and mushy objects beneath my hands.  I reached a wall and steadied myself up. 

            As soon as I was up, I felt a small hand grab hold of my shoulder. Instincts kicked in, and I flung myself around onto my opponent.

            I heard a low growl as I fell on top of the assaulter. 

            “You idiot! Get off me!”

            It was that same voice from earlier.

            I toppled off him, and I could hear him dragging himself up.

            “What is with you!? I come back and you jump me!” he growled.

            He grabs my arm and pulls me up.  How can he see me? Are my eyes that bad?

            “Come on. Hurry up! I don’t have time for this okay?”

            I let myself be dragged into a small door. 

What was I getting myself into?