Every Bright and Broken Thing

Chapter Twenty-Four - Ezra

I wonder how long I can live like this.

Sleeping in my car.

Playing guitar on the streets for money.

Eating all my meals at the Sanctuary.

Getting to know Elaine as if it's the easiest thing in the world.

I wonder how long until it all falls apart.

Shivering against the cold as it begins to creep in through the thin walls of my Honda, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet. Twenty dollars. That's all I have left. I try to conceive of all the ways I might possibly make this last little bit of money stretch, but find no solution next to selling my own blood.

Shame burns my cheeks as I realize that, too, is impossible. No one would take the blood of a homeless drunk and addict.

I shift in my seat, tossing my wallet on the dash of the car. The seat belt buckle digs into the side of my hip and I wince at the pain coming from the small bruise that's formed there after endless nights spent like this. Unable to sleep, I stare out the windshield at the street. Streetlights cast a pale glow on the snow-dusted road and the skyline is dotted with orange lights coming from innumerable windows. And if I squint they look almost like stars.

Say what you will about small towns, but if there's one thing I miss (besides my family and my home) it's the lack of light pollution. When I'm standing in the middle of Chicago, even on the darkest day at the darkest time, I can barely make out the stars that hang above the sleeping city. In Summit, though, they were crisp, bright, and clear. No force on earth could possibly dim the light of a billion endless suns as they stood watch over the people of Summit. An ocean of stars draped across the rugged mountain range. In the fondness of my memory at least, Summit is a place where heaven met earth. And sleeping in the cold core of this iron jungle, I miss that.

But there's nothing I can do. There's no way I can go back. My pride wouldn't allow it and neither would my shame.

So I open my eyes wide so that the skyscraper windows are windows again instead of stars. And I watch as the midnight chill slowly clouds the glass. Before it finishes its work, I'm fast asleep.

The sound of glass shattering startles me awake and I jump in my seat. Blinking to adjust my eyes, I turn to the passenger seat just in time to see a big, burly man reaching in through my broken passenger window. He sees me awake and, with a growl, snatches my wallet from the dash before racing away.

"Hey!" I cry, struggling to open my door. I roll out of my seat and slip on the icy street, falling on my face. Recovering, I grind my teeth and race after the thief.

He rounds a corner, but my high school football instincts kick in and I'm hot on his tail. I chase him down an alley that I quickly realize is a dead-end.

The thief spins around to face me, eyes wide and wild.

"Look, man. I don't want a fight. I just want my wallet," I say, holding out a hand. He's tall and gruff-looking and a fight would be pretty evenly matched. But I realize instantly that he has the advantage because I'm pretty sure he's insane.

The thief ignores me and, muttering to himself, spins around at the end of the alley.

I step toward him and he lets out a howl loud enough to make me grimace. His voice is raspy and shrill, but terrifying all the more for it.

"Please," I try again. "Just give me back my wallet."

As if realizing he has nowhere to go, his head snaps toward me and he snarls, baring his teeth like an animal. He plants his feet in the slush and buries my wallet in his pocket. He knots his hands into fists and charges for me.