No Credit, No Debit

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"You are unbelievable, you know that?! I can- I gace up everything because you said you could give it to me! My job, my family, you know what I got?! Of coarse you know, I got a lazy fiance who does nothing all day while I work three jobs a day, minimum wadge might I add, to support the both of us all while saving up for my mother's chemo theropy, and" I stop mid-sentance "you wouldn'y give two shits if I just left right now?" I scoff, nothing that he isn't even paying attention, all his focus is on the television he recently turned on.

"Go ahead and leave! You'll end up crawling back to me anyway like you always do," He is laughing and gets up off the sofa, "you have nowhere else to go." He picks up his voice  and throws a beer bottle at the door beside me. I don't flinch, it's happened plenty before, I've actually grown immune to the action.

"I'm not coming back, you can bet your life on it. You can search the suface of this earth. I vow to you that I will never come back to this hell hole." I fling my bag over my shoulder, and slam the door shut with a loud bang.

The shady stairwell of the Brooklyn appartment reeks of alcohol and latex,not a very good combination, although I have grown immune to the scent I still can't get over it. Every echoe rings in my ear like sweet bliss, almost like freedom but I know this is just the beginning of my escape. Reaching the bottom of the stairwell and looking outside in dread, the pouring rain will not assist with my getaway but the my car might help, making a beeline for the Sedan DeVille cadilac only to notice I don't have my keys wasn't a good feeling.

"Goddammit!" I nearly shout, stomping my foot furiously. of coarse, right in a fresh puddle. I pull the door handle angerily and than take a few good swings at it with my purse. I kick the tires a few times with my numb toes before slumping down on the wet concrete and letting out a loud sigh. Of coarse, nothing, absolutely nothing is going right. I left my keys upstairs, it's raining and I have to take a subway to Manhattan at one in the morning. I guess I shouldn't waste any time, I prop myself up and flip my hood over my already soaked head.

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Pulling my jacket tighter to my body, I feel myslef shudder in the cold wind that scurries by me, I see a nearby payphone and immediatly rush up to it.

"Hello?" a slow tired voice groans through the phone.

"Hi, it's me." I sigh, looking down in shame.

"What happened this time?" He grunts.

"He dragged me out of bed just to yell at me, Austin?" I whine, usually I don;t do this but I'm tired, wet and hungry.

"Okay, well what can I do for you at this ungodly hour?" He teases.

"Can you come and get me? I'm at the corner of Bernard and Boswell.' I ask chewing on my nail and squinting one eye shut.

"Rose, I'm not in town. I'm in Toronto on business." He reminds and my shoulders slouch.

"Can I go to your place and crash, I have nowhere else to go?"

He makes a clicking noise with his tongue that I hate. "I don't think so, Ave is there and I know how much you wish you could put her six feet under." he jokes and my shoulders slump with disappointment.

"Well... Doesn't she have her own house? Kick 'er out." I simply command, twirling the phone line around with one finger.

"Rose, it's not that easy, I can't just-" I cut him off sharply.

"Fine, hopefully you'll see me when you get back." I sigh hanging up the phone with a slam onto the reciever. I step out of the booth and back into the rain then begin to walk down the humming Brooklyn street. There aren't many cars that drive around these street this late, or early in the morning.

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I've been walking aimlessly for about forty-five minutes with nothing but my own thoughts, taking left and rights here and there. I've had my headphones plugged in for a while but I swear there is a Caddilac car just waiting for me to drop to my knees so they can roll me into the trunk. I get to yet another corner and the car honks it's horn but I pay no attention whatsoever and proceed to cross the street.

All the sudden I'm whipped around by my shoulders and almost let out a scream but instead a hard punch to the persons nose.

"Holy shit, what the hell's the matter with you? You just punched an innocent guy in the nose." he's freaking out calmly while holding his nose, under the street light I see a bit of blood but he should survive.

"What's the matter with you?! Attacking a Brooklyn girl from behind in the middle of the night?" I ask almost shouting. "You should know better because those movies you see, they don't lie." I simply say, helping him with his nose.

"Well where I come from, you ask people their names before hitting them straight in the nose." He says sarcasticly.

"Hold it up, not down. It'll slow the bleeding." he leans himself up against the car and looks at me.

"Are you Rose Butler?" He asks panting, I look at him with confusion but don't answer then he holds up a tattered wallet and I understand, I take it, more like snatch it before speaking.

"Yes, how did you get this?" I ask ready to punch him in the nose again but then he informs me.

"You left it at the phone booth back on Bernard and Boswell." He winces as if he's scared he is wrong and I'm going to punch him.

"Well don't worry I'm not going to punch you, Thank you," I pause waiting for his name.

"Seth, your welcome Rose." he curtsites and smiles. I check it just in case he took any money, nothing there's nothing in here.

"Hey! Son of a Bitch, you took my money!" I yell and race over to the other side of the car to his door , blocking him from getting in.

"No, I didn't! There was none in there when I checked your I.D." He quickly says holding my hands down by my wrists, I wiggle but it's no use.

"What do you mean, I had thirteen hundred dollars and yor saying it's just gone." He looks at me with sorrow and shakes his head. I guess he saw the bruise underneath my left eye and assumed the truth.

"Look I'm sorry but if you need a lift anywhere i would be more than willing to help you out." He puts his hand out.

"I don't have anywhere to go."I say in a small voice, looking down ashamed. He clicks his tongue as if he's thinking.

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