100 Theme Challenge: 1. Chores
Because I'm bored. If you have any questions about the story or my characters, send me a message! Feedback is appreciated!
Trigger Warning for Assault.
Of course he was serious. His mom’s (if you can even call her that) new boyfriend was an even bigger dick than the last one. And of course, his own mother would rather support some abusive pervert than her own fucking son. They could go die in a hole for all he cared.
He trudged grumpily through the downpour of rain, soaking his dad’s old trench coat. The only person who ever loved him. Who up and left before Adrian was even five years old. Adrian’s shock white hair hung down in greasy strands and stuck to his face. This was the closet he’s gotten to a shower in a week. He glanced across the street at a Starbucks, looking so cozy and warm. It was the nicest building in the neighborhood. A girl sat inside by the window, dressed fashionably and laughing on the phone with a latte. He licked his dry, cracked lips. Coffee sounded amazing right now. But that had to wait.
He finally stopped at a run-down liquor store on the street corner. The owner, an elderly Egyptian man, gave him a dirty look as he walked in. Adrian just stared at the tiled floor and headed to the back of the store.
Shit, where the fuck were the Buds? He nervously scanned the shelf over and over. Not a single bottle. Shit. Gordon is going to kill me.
"Got any Budweiser?" Adrian called out.
"We’re sold out," the owner said bluntly.
Adrian sighed and picked up a six pack of Miller and headed to the counter. “Just these and a pack of Marlboro. Original.”
The man scanned his items. “ID?”
Adrian fished out the fake ID his mom gave him, specifically for these kinds of errands. It was his thirteenth birthday present.
He muttered a “Thank you” and head back outside. The rain was clearing up, but it was getting dark, and he wanted to get back to the apartment before-
"Hey fag!"
Shit.
Adrian started walking quicker. He was used to the routine. Men, no, boys, around eighteen to twenty years old, following him home. Sometimes, he got lucky, and slipped into the building before they got to him. But, looking through his window, he saw them, waiting.
"Get yo ass back here!"
"Wonder if he’s as good as his momma?"
A yank on the collar of his coat sent him stumbling into the center of the group. The ringleader, a boy with a turned-back baseball camp and dirty wife-beater punched him in the gut. He bent over and another kicked him onto the ground. The bottles shattered and their contents spilled onto the ground. The gang laughed and gave him another hard kick.
"Hey!" A female voice rung out and few yards away. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Ain’t none of your business bitch!" The leader yelled to her.
"By hurting someone, you’re making it my business!" She shouted back. Adrian squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for her to leave before she got hurt. "Get out before I call the fucking cops!"
"You ain’t got shit!" One of the boys taunted.
There was a pause, and Adrian knew she was pulling out her phone. “Hello? 911? Yes, there’s an assault happening at the corner of 28th and-“
Adrian heard a punch and then the sound of something sharp breaking skin. He held his breath.
"Bitch is crazy!" The leader shoved the girl and gestured to his friends. "Let’s get the fuck outta here!"
One more kick and the boys left. The girl ran up and kneeled next to him. “Are you okay? Do you need an ambulance?”
Adrian rolled over, cutting his hand on a shard of broken glass. “Fuck!” He muttered, sucking on his hand.
It was the girl from Starbucks. She was pretty, with clear, dark caramel skin and silky auburn hair. Her dark eyes were filled with worry. “I’m calling an ambulance.”
"No! Don’t!" He waved his hand at her. "I can take care of myself." He slowly stood up, pain shooting through his whole body. The girl hesitated, then put her phone away and stood. Adrian stared at the smashed beer bottles on the ground. She followed his gaze. "I’ll-I’ll pay for it. And…all of the stuff you need to heal."
He waved her hand at her again. “No…no, it’s…fine.” He started limping towards his tenement.
She followed. “So…does this happen a lot?”
He glanced at her. What was there to lose? “More often than I’d like.”
"So…you know first aid?"
"It ain’t hard."
They continued their walk in silence, until he reached his apartment.
"Oh, is this you?" She asked, pointing to the building.
"Y-yeah," he muttered, starting to open the door.
"Wait!" The girl scribbled something down on a scrap of paper. She held it out to him. "I know we’re, strangers but, in case you need anything, here’s my number."
He stared at her blankly.
"I-I mean, unless you don’t have a phone…" she stammered. "Then I’ll just…You know what? Forget it. It was a stupid-"
He took the paper. She looked at him, surprised.
"Thanks," he muttered. He opened the door and shut it before she could say another word.
555-1234 Lucy
As he climbed the stairs, he felt less afraid. He had a shred of hope to hold onto. And her name was Lucy.
