𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐲

Chapter 2

— Chapter 2 —
Joe's Bar

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E L L I O T

My dreams were rarely pleasant.

It wasn't common for me to dream. When I did, it was usually triggered by something, as I'd come to notice. Usually, the triggers were feelings of stress that had accumulated over the day. Sometimes, though, they came from a change of scenery, like the park bench I'd woken up on that morning.

Nightmares may have been a better word. Mostly fragments of old memories, replaying in a jumbled and convoluted mess like a broken record. Memories I did my best to forget in the daylight.

Good dreams, though, were much rarer—and so much worse.

Blinking my eyes open, my eyes adjusted to the blaring sunlight that comforted my cheeks and blurred my vision. For a moment, I'd completely forgotten the events of last night.

But with the frown of a nosy jogger as they passed by me, everything rushed back, and I found myself snapping up on the bench.

Shaking out my hair, I took a squinted look at my surroundings. Kids were already playing about on the playground only a few yards away, with early-rising joggers doing their morning run on the path in front of me. The sun blared in the distance and melted the snow from the night prior, its position telling me it was sometime before midday.

How the hell did I sleep for so long? I cursed myself, immediately checking to make sure nobody had taken my stuff. I can't believe I slept here. Jesus. What was I thinking?

Thankfully, my fraying bag and all its contents remained untouched by my side. While I owned nothing of significant value, I didn't have the nerves nor the finances to go and replace things.

I'd even spotted some spare change stuck underneath the bag as well, no doubt left by some misinformed passerby with a habit of jumping to conclusions.

Do I really look homeless? I sighed to myself, choosing to leave the cash on the snow-covered ground. I didn't need anybody's pity, and especially not their help.

How embarrassing, I thought, getting to my feet.

As I started the walk of shame back home, my mind drifted to the strange encounter I'd had with the infamous biker a night earlier. I did my best to recall as much of the conversation as I could, shuddering with embarrassment at how I must've looked to him.

Scolding myself, I thought, when Noah Black asks for a lighter, you get off your ass and go find him a damn lighter. Do you have a death wish, you idiot?

Part of me wondered if that was really the case. The person I'd talked to last night wasn't cruel, neither cold. In fact, I could've almost called him friendly... even though our conversation was largely brief. It was just confusing. I didn't know what to take from our encounter in the slightest.

He wouldn't be annoyed with me, right?

Christ, look at me, I thought, worrying if I made an enemy out of someone I barely talked to. Shaking my head, I scoffed at myself.

I'm an idiot.

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My father was nowhere to be found when I arrived home, which considerably soothed my nerves. I didn't think I could handle getting tormented twice in the same week. My shoulder still ached from the last fight I'd had with him.