It wasn't like I planned this, or even wanted it. It wasn't like I had a choice, but yet, it happened. It happened and there was nothing I could do to stop it now. Looking back, I guess I should've just looked away, I should've just turned the other cheek, and never looked behind, never listened to him, never helped him. But I just couldn't help myself. I wasn't that person, that person to turn his back on a person in need, and yes, he needed me, he needed me more than anyone at that exact moment. And I needed him; I needed him to give my life meaning, because without him, I was just so lost, so lonely. So yes, I did stay, but I would've never guessed that it would come to that, that I would come to need him just to breathe, I never knew I would get so hooked, and dragged down into the hells of this world. I never knew taking him in would do this to my life. But in all honesty, even now, I can't say I regret meeting him that faithful night.
It was cold, colder than any normal Phoenix day should be, so naturally, I pulled my coat just a little tighter, and let my breathing heave heavy off my frozen lips that were almost blue, letting out thick puffs of clouds as my warm breath met 20 degree temperature. Icy fingers stuffed in thin pockets, and my cotton hood pulled over my dirty blonde hair.
I really wasn't going much of anywhere, just wandering in and out of bars. I wasn't drunk per say, but I wasn't exactly sober either. My parents had just kicked me out, and my tiny new 'pad' wasn't exactly doing it for me. I needed a pick me up, a night out. Though it wasn't much fun since I was by myself, no friends, no lover. Hell, I hadn't so much as had a date in the past…well ever really. 22 and no one to love, I was living it up.
I was used to being alone, I never got along with anyone. I had but a few friends, and I always kept to myself. Goes to say I was a virgin, not to mention a loner. I just never got along with people. Humans were honestly the worst. Evil, backstabbing idiots who only cared for what benefited their own selfish needs, why would anyone want that in their lives? I chose to be alone because I didn't see the need of interacting with others. I guess I never learned to 'play nice.'
By the time I realized it, I had stumbled my way into an alley. Words slurred, speech slurred, and my head spinning, I decided to take a little break from my midnight strut through town, and sit against the cold brick wall.
Now, with my earphones in, I played what would be considered 'creepy' piano instrumentals as I mimed the notes and keystrokes with my long, thin fingers. What I would give to be in front of a piano at that very moment, the urge to play was itching under my skin.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, rocking slightly back and forth to the rhythm of the music. I was at peace, for once. Which I guess would sound strange to anyone but me, considering I was sitting on a dirty alley floor next to a dumpster that smelled like a mixture of rotting food and urine. But I was alone, and it was dark, extremely dark. One of those rare days where clouds covered the night sky and hid the already tiny cresset moon, not letting even the slightest amount of moonlight to hit the floor. The only thing lighting the way was a flickering streetlight, which was dimmed with age, and swarmed with tiny moths.
I wasn't really paying attention; I didn't even notice the man approach me. Too lost in my world, I had managed to block out my surroundings. I didn't notice his dragging feet strapping across the floor as he tried desperately to move forward, towards me. I didn't see the blood that was filling the floor of the tiny space between buildings. I didn't hear him, his groans that were so filled with pain, they'd probably make my skin crawl. I just sat there; completely oblivious to what was going on, that is, until he collapsed.
I felt the splatter of the tiny droplets of blood on my face as he fell into the pool that formed around him. I whipped my cheek and opened my eyes to see what exactly had landed on me, expecting to see rain; I was horrified at the red smeared on my fingers.
"The fuck?" I pulled out my earphones and looked down, studying the liquid on my hand. "I-is that blood…?"
That's when I noticed the corpse in front of me.
His long sleeve black shirt was completely torn from the back, and I could see four long gashes slashed across his nearly white skin
"Oh my god, are you okay?" I took no time moving from sitting, to on my hands and knees right in front of him, and I could feel the blood seeping into my black jeans. The feeling was one of the most sickening things I've ever had to deal with.
I immediately touched his neck, feeling for a pulse. There was none.
"No, you're not dying on me." Reading all those medical books as a child had finally come in handy, and even though I had dropped out, I still had enough knowledge from studying as a paramedic to know what to do in that exact moment.
I turned him over, but he wasn't breathing.
I froze as it dawned on me.
There was no way he could've died this quickly; he had just collapsed right? Why was he already this cold, this dead? He looked like the body of someone whom had died a few hours prier.
The voice sounded like it had come from an angel, so soothing, even when broken from pain. I was almost enchanted. I just sat there, and repeated the sound over and over in my mind.
Then I realized he'd spoken.
"B-but y-you're dead…." I could hear my voice breaking.
His deep gray eyes met mine, and I couldn't move. His interest stare nearly bore into my very core. I was helpless to look away, like something was holding me down in my place.
"Help…me…" And just like that, he was out.
The second his eyes closed, I gained control of myself again.
Something in me told me I should go, run away; turn my back, something in me screaming in fear at the man. But something else, something stronger, made me pick up the stranger in front of me, and carry him home.