Runaway Devil

“Kara,” I heard Stitch, but my body didn’t move. I finally looked up at him, noticing that the sun had almost completely disappeared. “You okay?” I nodded and smiled. There was a breeze picking up, and goosebumps pulled at my skin. “So when can you come in tomorrow?” He asked. I thought for a second.

“Anytime you need me,” I responded with a smile. I had been working for Stitch for a little over a year. Before I came across this little town, I was drifting, often sleeping in trees or allies. I could see my body shrinking day by day, and my energy was fleeting. Balan was as loyal though, and just as protective if not more than before. He would never leave me to fend for myself, so on the nights it became unbearable, he would hunt for us. He would provide a meal and I would provide safety. In this world, I made him look like a dog. I wanted to keep him looking like his original form, so a hound seemed fitting. But when Stitch found me, sitting just inside an ally, with Balan’s head on my lap, he had to take me in. He hired people in tough situations. Some of the artists were convicts, just out of prison. Some had come from bad neighborhoods. Some were homeless. He gave them a safe place to work, earn some money, and if the situation was dire, a place to live.

“Then you get the afternoon shift. We have a lot of new clients who have requested you actually.” I nodded, remembering what one of the clients had requested. She wanted a ram surrounded by flowers. She specifically wanted it to look soft, she had another consultation scheduled for next week. As I reached for my planner in my bag, Bethany spotted one of my sketchbooks.

“Hey, can I see that?” Bethany asked, pointing at it.

I made no verbal response and handed her my book. It was filled, the spine was becoming too weak to hold everything together. Stitch chuckled and murmured how he would have to get me a new one. I hadn't realized that my cigarette had burned down to the filter, and I let it drop to the cement, stamping out the small kindled light.

“You think I could get one of these sometime?” She trailed off, distracted by another page.

“Yeah? You want one?” I asked while grabbing my cigarettes from my jacket pocket. I tapped them on my thumb knuckle and one slid out. I held it between my teeth as I dug around for my lighter.

"When did you start smoking? You're turning 19 in what- three months?" Nick said. The smoke reminded me of home, the heat in my chest. I loved the smell because it reminded me of Dusty. It was comforting, but I guess that’s exactly what the marketers wanted me to feel, comfort whenever I smoked. I knew that I could quit whenever I wanted, the nicotine didn’t affect me. And my lungs were already black, so what’s the harm? My body was made to take in smoke instead of clean air, it was engineered that way. I thrived on it. If I took in fresh air for too long it would start to make me feel nauseous, so I was completely okay with swiping a few packs.

“You wouldn’t mind? I don’t want to cut into any of your shifts,” Bethany said, taking me up on my offer.

“Yeah, I don’t have a problem with it. Stitch?” I asked for permission because first of all, it’s his shop, he gets to decide what happens in it. And secondly, it could possibly cut into work time, which means cutting into money.

He thought for a minute, “Yeah, sure. But not during work hours, we all have things to take care of, now that Sarah’s gone. We have to pick up some slack.” we all nodded. Sarah was an artist who recently moved away after she got married. She was looking for a change of scenery, and none of us could blame her. This town was a shit hole.

“Alright, guys, I’m heading home. I’ve got to leave now if I’m going to make it to my baby girl’s recital,” Nick said, getting up. He groaned as he stretched his back, acting like an old man when, in reality, he was 34.

“Drive safe, tell Aubrey good luck for me,” I say after him as he hobbles towards his car. He waved at us without turning and drove off. His car coughed a bit as it chugged along the road but if you hit the dash a couple of times, it usually works itself out. “I should be getting home, Balan will be expecting me,” I said with a warm smile. I heaved my bag over my shoulder and took a long drag from my cigarette.

“Is it okay if I return this to you tomorrow?” Bethany asked, not bothering to look up from my book. I chuckled and mumbled a yes.

“I have some things to take care of at school in the morning, so you can run by and give it to me then,” I suggested. She just absentmindedly nodded, flipping another page.

“I’ll see you around 12:30 tomorrow, m’kay?” Stitch said as he moved Nick’s box out from the middle of the area. I nodded and shoved my phone into my back pocket. He tidied up behind the shop and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, walking me out to the front. “Stay safe, maybe you should text me when you get home,” he thought aloud.

“I can take care of myself,” I kissed his cheek,” but thank you, and I will.” He smiled and ruffled my hair, making me chuckle.

“Get on home, kiddo.” I waved and strode across the parking lot. The shop was about half a mile from my apartment so I could make the trip easier on foot. Just as I had lost sight of the shop, I heard light music. It sounded soft and relaxing. I followed it down a couple more streets, deeper into town. Balan would be fine, he could take care of himself while I took a small detour. I found a man sitting on the sidewalk on a small dirty blanket. The gas station across the street lite up the block and bathed us in an artificial glow. He was obviously homeless and he had dreadlocks covered by a loose, worn knit hat. I slowly walked towards him, loving the sound of the music. He was playing an inverted steel drum, and he played it gracefully. He lightly tapped different parts of the drum, and it echoed beautifully.

I casually sat next to him and crossed my legs at the ankles. I folded my hands in my lap and closed my eyes. I smoked and he played, neither of us talking. He glanced at me and smiled, but then went back to playing.

It was late evening and it was getting darker and colder out. Once he finished his song he set his instrument aside and just sat there with his eyes closed, seemingly just enjoying the silence. Well, almost silence. The sign from the gas station buzzed lowly, its bulbs working around the clock.

“That was wonderful,” I lightly held my cigarette and tapped it, ash breaking off onto the sidewalk.

“Thank you.” His voice was comfortable. He was soft-spoken and sounded peaceful. Always a friend to everybody.

“What’s your name?”

“Johnny.” He sounded tired. I peaked at him from the corner of my eye and looked him in the eye. I looked deeper, into his soul. He had a kind heart. He had gotten completely screwed when dealing with his landlord and now he was playing music on the side of a dirty street corner.

“You want one?” I offered a cigarette. He was silent for a good while.

“Yeah, actually. I would.” He grabbed one and I flicked open my lighter. He cupped his hands around the flame and inhaled lightly. The end of the cancer stick glowed, and the small crackle of it burning filled the air between us.

We smoked in silence as I took a mental inventory of how much cash I had in my wallet. I grabbed it from my bag and strolled over to the abrasive gas station. I dropped and stepped on the little bit of cigarette left. I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders, it was getting late.

It was quiet inside, but the hum of lights followed me in, and the lights flickered. It smelled like a cheap cleaner and body odor. The air felt sticky, and I wanted to leave as quickly as possible. I snatched some bags of pretzels, some waters, and slipped two candy bars in my jacket pocket. I dropped the pretzels and waters on the counter and stared at the boy. His face was peppered with acne, and his lip was sporting the whisper of facial hair. His mouth looked heavy and seemed to make his whole face droop. He mindlessly scanned my items and I grabbed them before he could put them in a bag. I mumbled out “Marlboro,” and he reached above his head, revealing a sweat stain in the armpit of his shirt. I dropped nine bucks on the counter, I believed the cost was in fact 17.50. I strode out before he could protest, but honestly, he had no reason to. He cared just as much as I did, which was not at all.

Not bothering to look both ways, I crossed the street and avoided a storm drain. I never liked those things, I always felt like I would slip and fall in or something. It was completely irrational, the space between the bars was always too small for anyone to fall in, and they opened upwards anyway. I slumped next to Johnny and gave him water and a bag. “Oh yeah, I almost forgot,” I grabbed the candy bars from my pocket and gave him one. He slowly looked at me and a whisper of a smile graced his face.

“Thanks, miss.” He said quietly as he opened his pretzels. I unscrewed the top to my water and took a sip.

“Don’t mention it,” I said just as quietly. We sat and ate in silence. there was no need for words, we were just enjoying each other's company. The silence was comfortable and nothing was awkward or forced. I observed the street as I ate. It looked like a ghost town, there was quite literally nothing around. All of the windows were dark, all the shades are drawn. Johnny was all alone out there, there weren’t even any stray animals to keep him company. I felt Balan’s worry reach for me. He wanted to know I was okay, even though he would be able to feel if I wasn’t. I was meant to be home about a half-hour ago, so he was getting antsy. I slowly closed my eyes and mind-linked him

Don’t worry, I’ll be home soon.

He calmed and waited patiently. He made himself comfortable on the old couch and dozed until I got home. “So, what’s the plan?” I asked, shifting my hips. Sitting on the sidewalk was not ideal, and uncomfortable. My ass was starting to fall asleep and it was getting colder.

“Um, I don’t have one,” He trailed off, looking down the street towards the old, busted bus stop. It was three dollars for a one-way trip. I looked from him to the bus stop, then to my hands in my lap.

“You want one?” He nodded and looked to me, he head slowly turning. I grabbed two one-dollar bills and a hand full of change. It added up to three dollars. It was the last of the money in my wallet. I slipped it back into my bag and turned to him, sitting cross-legged next to him. “Hold out your hands,” I said. My voice left no room for any protest, but he didn’t. He held out his hands limply and let the money be placed in them. “The next bus comes first thing in the morning, not many people take it. It comes early, before the sun, so don’t miss it,” he looked at his hands, kind of like a child. He nodded numbly and looked to me.

I gave him a small smile, “There’s a nice shelter a couple of towns over, you should go. I can’t make you, but, you know, I would highly recommend it.” I shrugged. I didn’t want him to be insulted. But he understood where I was coming from. He smiled, it was bright and full. It made my chest tight, warming it. “Do you need anything for the night?” He shook his head and closed his hand around the money.

“My stomach is full and I have a plan,” He chuckled. “I think I’m set for the night,” I nodded and got up stretching. I reached my hands above my head and groaned. I heard my back crack and I shook out my legs. I held out my hand to Johnny and he took it.

His hands were rough but not harsh, they had a dry surface, but were gentle. He stood but didn’t let go of my hand. He tightened his grip and shook it respectfully with a smile. I smiled and grabbed my bag, throwing over my shoulder. “Good luck, and be careful.” I said as I started to turn to walk home.

“You too, and bless you.” He called after me. I waved and laughed quietly to myself. I honestly doubted that would happen any time soon.