Nemesis | H.S.

Chapter 2

Song at "#". enjoy <3

When I said most people who join this type of life come from slums, I was also talking about myself.

After every challenge some took a train back home, some drove their car, some had people picking em up. My ride was an old rusty dutch blue bike I had stolen somewhere on the way here to New York City.

It had been a whole year since I first joined S.L.A.D., and this bike was my own companion all the way through it: I always rode my way to places, no matter the weather, no matter the distance I needed to cover. It didn't bother me as much, I had gone through a lot worse in the past:  this bike really was a life savior.

I inserted my key in the lock of my small apartment when a familiar warm voice came from behind my back. 

"Hello Melanie dear" - I turned to notice that his eyes were more tired than usual, his face giving out a reassuring feeling I had come very used to. 

"Hello Mike" -  I smiled from his presence. 

When I said my bike was my life savior, I lied: this old man standing outside the opposite door of mine was. 

"You look more messed up than usual tonight. Someone gave you a hard time today?"- he looked very concerned. I did look like shit after all.

Once I heard about S.L.A.D. and made up my mind about joining, I gave away everything I had to reach this place. The day I arrived here was the day I realized the task would be harder than predicted: I was left with nothing, no home, no food, just a bike and my crazy temper. 

Not that I hadn't lived in similar situations in the past: I had learnt to survive with my daily shop-lifting, changing my shelter every now and then, with no future prospect.

This time was different tho. I had finally found a purpose: a goal that one year ago felt further away than ever.  

This was until Mike found me.

I learnt the hard way not to trust strangers, and that the world is filled with empty people who won't do anything good if not to have something back. That's why I never trusted anyone in my journey -  anyone else, at least. My gut always told me they were just passengers, people who would go behind my back eventually if I let them in. 

It took me a while to let Mike help me: he told me he had lost his daughter years back, that he never had a niece, that he always waited for something else to happen in his life, an epiphany of some sorts. He really thought that something was me. 

He gave me food and a key to the apartment facing his, saying it had been abandoned for many years. He had also offered to help me financially, but I never accepted. 

At first, I found the whole thing very suspicious, thinking he might've been some kind of creepy pervert, and that the apartment could've been a cursed place- 

That was until I started knowing him better and I figured out what his real deal was: he felt lonely. But so did I. That's what we were for each other: a daily company, someone to tell about their day to. I felt very grateful for him and his help, but he never wanted me to feel like I owed him.

"Yeah. But I put him in is place, don't worry." - his features relaxed as a proud grin spread across his face. 

Of course Mike was unaware of my involvement in S.L.A.D.: there was no way I would share something like that with him. I told myself it was mostly because it wasn't his business, but deep down I knew it was also to protect him from the whole thing. 

Little did he know I had put someone in his place for real today, and that inexplicably his ringed fist was still deep in my thoughts.

"Good job. You keep on being careful tho." - I had told him I was a bounty hunter, the only reasonable job I could come up with, considering the usual state I was in once I came back at home every night. Though the lie couldn't hold on any longer: I had to find a real job, since me still riding a bike to work everyday had become very suspicious.