Rogues

Chapter Two

Car horns fill the streets as I emerge from an alley, drenched in freezing water and exhausted from the constant vigilance I was forced to defend. I look over my shoulder once more to ensure my temporary safety until my sight catches my ripped short sleeves that gave me no protection from the biting frost created by people walking along the side walk.
I move my attention to my surroundings, watching the cars sit in place as the drivers curse at each other, polluting the air with irritation and roasting gasoline. My eyes slowly examine the types of figures that pass by. Suited men stomp angrily upon the cracks, with their eyes engulfed by tunnel vision.
Shady characters look around quickly, paranoid from the crying sky and clumps of people rushing to their destination.
I inhale the air, welcoming the possible hiding spots available to me. I push myself out from the darkened, cramped walls and jump into one of the emotionless lines that the citizens create.
I keep my head down, avoiding the possibility of eye contact with anyone. I try to forget what I saw in the alley, becoming numb to all of the running.
There was a perk to living in New York. Never running out of places to hide.
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Hours later I find myself along a quiet street with crumbs of people and little to no passing cars. I nod my head, acknowledging the presence of those roaming the streets. They shift away from me afterwards, afraid I may curse or rob them.
Soon I came to a quiet building, permanently closed and coated in graffiti. The rain still drizzles from the now darkened sky, reflecting the light from the stars and staining the gravel roads and buildings with soaking water.
I make my way into the quiet, abandoned parking lot, looking hastily around for any danger.
I pull my backpack over my shoulder and lay it on the wall and crouch down to look through my bag for anything I can use for protection against the cold night. I swallow hard when I see only empty wrappers from fast food places, a squished hotdog bun and a pocket knife, dull and useless. My heart races when I realize that I haven't eaten in two days. I close my bag, deciding to save the price of bread for the morning.
I was afraid.
I sigh and lay against the wet wall, gazing at the moon, cloaked in foggy clouds. My stomach growls and my eyes begin to droop with constant fatigue. I hear faint chirps from scattered crickets and muffled buzzing from moths above me. Around me was a large field peppered with the trees and dry grass. A dead end street Had the company of pavement cracks and an abandoned truck, stripped of its parts. Houses were far away and The slow walking people made me cautious of sleeping here. It wasn't like I had a choice. I shift my bag to the side, pushing my weight to the ground as I lay my head on top of the empty, deflated backpack, the crunching wrappers vibrating inside my ear.
The quiet atmosphere pushes me deeper into the sleep that I  yearn for.
"I am not afraid." I whisper.
"I am not afraid."
"I am-"
A sudden clatter came near my feet. I jump up, my lips parting from a cold gasp.
A dog, bony and weak, sniffs the ground next to the fall and trashcan and then looks at me. I frown at The fate that I may be faced with; starvation. I smile a little as the dog comes closer to examine me. I slowly reach into my bag and feel around for the soft bun. I pull it out and gently hand it to the dog.  He quickly snatches it from my hand and wags its tail as it gulfs down.
After it smacked its mouth several times it stares at me and walks next to me, curling it self up into a ball near my stomach.
After some time of petting it's tangled fur I had fallen asleep with a guard dog at my side.
I may be cold and starving, but there is no difference from where I ran away.
If I had to swear on my life on one fact it would be that I am never going back.