A/N: I have a hard time writing the rest of it, so I thought I could update this part and then see how it goes. thoughts?
Dark
The dark is your greatest enemy. You hate it. Bad things happen in the dark; gunshots, violence, rape. You've seen it all but you still walk the streets alone. That's the worst thing. The dark isn't only your enemy, it is also your friend.
The dark hides your face, your body, your emotions. The dark gives you peace, a time in the day where you don't have to hide because the shadows of the night are doing it for you.
You're alone but at the same time you're not. You hear people shouting on the street, a few drunken ones whom are trying to find their way home. Stumbling and slurring sentences of love to anyone who will cross their path.
Right now the night is your little piece of reassurance. It sets your mind at ease. You're not afraid. Not here. There are still people around and no one is going to hurt you, at least that is what you keep telling yourself.
If you walk fast, if you blend in with the blackness, if you keep your head down and most of all; if you don't speak a word. There is only one way to and from your apartment and whether you like it or not, you have to walk this route nearly every day.
You live in the poor part of the city. With crappy houses and walls as thin as paper. The part of the city with criminals and thiefs, drugdealers and addicts. And you.
You are one out of maybe 5 ''normal'' people that live in these streets. That is if you count the old hooker who lives above you and the cage fighter (which is still illigal but nothing compared to the rest) on the corner of the street. You don't know any of them personally though. If you did, there wouldn't be a chance that you'd still be walking here, alive and well.
No.. there is only one person that you know and trust in here. One person that has been living here long enough to know everyone's business.
You met him in the first week you started living here, found him laying on the ground in the hallway of the third floor, your floor.
Your first instinct was to leave him in his misery and carry on, but once you looked at his face you stated that if he decided to make a move on you, you could easily take him. After all, he looked like he ruled ancient Rome with Julius Ceaser himself.
Later, when you slapped his drunken mind into consciousness, (which you had to do several times) you helped him to his feet. He mumbled a thank you and dissapeard two doors left from you.
Apparently he remembered you and when you ran into him a second time he invited you in for some coffee. Ever since, you have been visiting Oliver once a week. You talk to him to reduce his loneliness (and yours, but you won't admit that) and in return he teaches you all about the people in the neighborhood.
You don't mind the dark. It is your friend. But as you said, it is also your greatest enemy. When you're alone, truly alone, in your small bedroom and under the covers of your bed, that is when the fear kicks in. Your brain knows that you're safer in here than outside on the streets but your feelings are telling you the exact opposite. Maybe it is because there won't be other people around when you cry for help. There won't be any witnesses. Nobody.
Or maybe it is because you're helpless in the dreams that fill your unconscious head. The screams of horror in your nightmares haunt you for days. Luckily you've found something that makes you forget.
You slide out of bed and walk to the kitchen. You grab a bottle of rum out of the cupboard and take a big gulp. And another, and another.
When you wake in the morning, you're grateful you've made it through yet another night.
It's all part of a routine. You wake up in the morning, take some painkillers for your hangover headache, find something to eat (usually cereal, since that is the only thing that your stomach will hold), occupy yourself by watching cartoons, go to work (and grab a bite on the way), come home late (while trying to avoid being attacked on the street), drink until you pass out and then do it all again the day after.
You do this from Monday till Thursday, Fridays are your days with Oliver. On Saturday you work the morning shift and Sunday is lazy day.
Weeks pass by quick and slow at the same time, you drag yourself through the days thinking that this is what was meant to be. Day after day you care less and less for your health and the spark in your eyes dissapears after many restless nights.
On a particular Friday afternoon Oliver gives you a stern look and tells you to find something, anything that brings back happiness in your live. "You're far too young to live your life like this," he tells you.
You tell him you don't have anyone besides him. "I'm not good company, nobody has ever stuck with me before."
He looks at you and pats your hand. "I'm still here, and I'm not going anywhere." You smile a little at him and nod. "Okay."
You learnt long ago that it is better not to argue when somebody says something nice.
Oliver knows your story, he knows about how your parents kicked you out, how you were just nineteen when you got shot. He knows you're uncomfortable in the dark (he doesn't know you are absolutely terrified). He doesn't judge you, he just listens and gives you advise when he feels the need. He is a father figure and tells you to come to him if you're ever in trouble.
You're always in trouble, but you never go.
You two talk about the people in the building. Sometimes you make a bet, about when the old prostitute above you will try to seduce Oliver yet again. He wins most of the time, so you'll go out and buy him pancakes at the diner a few blocks away.
He'll tell you the story of how she tried to win him over, and you'll laugh at how ridiculous it all sounds. After you drop him off and tell him goodnight, you'll enter your own apartment and dread the night that awaits you.
You can't drink on Fridays since you have the morning shifts on Saturdays. Usually, you'll leave the lights on and sit in your bed longing for the hours to pass by.
"There's a new resident in the building" , Oliver says as he opens his door for you on a Friday afternoon in January. "A young woman, your age I would say. She is very pretty." He smiles so big you can see all the teeth he is missing and all the ones he is about to lose when he doesn't start brushing properly. You grimace at the sight.
"Stop smiling so big and let me in."
When you're settled at the table with a steaming cup of coffee you ask him to explain further. "I saw her this morning with a suitcase. I'll tell you she looks like a ray of sunshine."
" The sun hasn't shine for days," you tell him with gloom.
Winters aren't really your thing. Your feet and hands are always cold, even on summer nights, so when winter comes around they're constantly below body temperature. Nothing except hot water bottles and warm showers will help, but since you can only use them when you are at home you're left with 10 hours a day of stinging feet and icy hands.
It takes two weeks before you see this mysterious "ray of sunshine" and when you do it leaves you breathless. You have no clue why she lives here 'cause she certainly doesn't look the part. In fact, you are pretty sure she belongs in a magazine like Vogue or something.
This girl is stunning. You can see why Oliver described her as a ray of sunshine. Long blonde locks fall beautifully over her shoulders as she passes by. You watch with awe as she looks at you with bright blue eyes.
You fail any attempt to speak and shuffle backwards into your flat, forgetting that you were supposed to be on the other side of the door.
Waiting a minute or two to make sure she is out of the hall, you continue your way to work once more.
Over the course of your shift you wonder what this girl has done in her life to be living in this place. If she looks like that, she must have been some sort of manipulater in criminal activities, right? She can't be one of the normal ones. If she was, she would be living in a better part of the city.
Now, you must admit that you don't really look that bad yourself, and you define yourself as an ordinary person too. It's just that you have... issues.
In the end you go with the little money theory, that must be it. You really don't want to rack your brain over this, it's not like you and her are going to be friends anyway. You figure she won't even last a month.
Stepping out of the 7-eleven and locking the door, you pull the hood of your jacket over your head and make your way back home.
You like to walk at night time. You appreciate the fact that the moon prevents you from complete blindness. There aren't any streetlights in this area of your town. You walk past alleys you don't even want to think about entering and keep your eyes at the pavement.
Passing the several bars and pubs you come to the end of the street. Almost home.
When you arrive at your building you suddenly stop. Squinting your eyes you make out a blonde silhouette pressed against the wall by a larger, slightly broad man. Cautiously you walk slowly towards the two people, intending on slipping by without them noticing. However it becomes clear that this isn't a friendly visit from the man as you hear the blonde whimper in pain. You frown as you try to think fast about what to do. Still hesitating, you catch the blondes eyes as she tries to get out of the mans grasp. Taking a deep breath, you leap towards the man and push with all your weight against his torso.
You know you shouldn't meddle in other people's business but you couldn't live with yourself if this ends bad. Hearing the man cry out in pain, you notice that blonde managed to kick him square in the balls. You quickly let go of the guy and unlock the door to the building. Within a few seconds you and the blonde are safely inside with the man still groaning in pain on the other side.
"Fuck," you sigh as you rest your hands on your knees and try to catch your breath. "Does he know what floor you're on?"
She shakes her head no and clutches her hands together in a tight grip. "Okay good."
You stand up straight and walk towards the stairs. You were wrong about her earlier, she has issues too. Before you can enter your apartment a hand on your wrist stops you from moving.
"I... thank you," she speaks to you with teary eyes. You don't look at her when you reply.
"Just.. wear a hoodie or something the next time you go out at nighttime okay? Your blonde hair attracts every rapist and criminal within a mile radius. And there are a lot of those around here."
You don't want to be rude, but it's late, you're tired and you still have a very dark night ahead of you. With a small tug of your hand, she lets you go and waits till you unlocked the door. "My name is Brittany, by the way,"
You still stand with your back to her, the door ajar in front of you. You shake your head, you wish she didn't told you her name. It is easier to give her a cold shoulder when she doesn't have one, now it's too late for that. "Goodnight Brittany," you whisper softly as you take the few steps into your flat and close the door behind you.
You don't see her in the next few days and you think you've been doing a pretty good job at avoiding her. This Friday you invited Oliver to your place since it's so cold out that his heating system has stopped working.
You send a silent prayer that yours keeps working.
You tell Oliver about your encounter with Brittany while boiling some water for tea. Just as you're about to sit down there's a knock on the door. A little suprised at the unexpected visitor you warily open the door. Oliver looks at you with interest as you're taken aback by the person standing timid in the doorway.
"Hi.. uhm sorry if I interrupted you but uhm you see, Oliver, the man who lives two doors on your left isn't home and my heating stopped working and I just uhm.. I don't know how to fix it?"
You think she looks cute when she is nervous and rambling but you quickly shake the thoughts from your head.
You decided that you didn't want this woman in your life so you're not about to give in now. You want to inform her that you don't know anything about mechanics or heatings or whatever when Oliver jumps in sight and explains to Brittany that he has the same problem. He eyes you with an anticipated look and nods his head in a subtle way as to say "Why don't you invide her in?"
Oliver knows you're gay. He knows your type. And Brittany... is exactly your type. Well shit. You know you're attracted to her, hell anybody with a good pair of eyes would, but you don't want her in this time of your life(she proves you wrong a couple of minutes later).
You're not ready for all the drama that comes with it, you have enough problems of your own as it is.
You might be a little bit overreacting. You don't know if she even likes girls the way you do. With a defeated exhale you invite her in for some tea. Her eyes light up as if to say "Really?!" and with a happy nod and a laugh she skips inside.
Brittany makes you laugh, actual laughs of joy as she sits with you and Oliver. Her stories about some ridiculous large cat that tried to escape numerous times and got stuck in every single attempt of them makes your stomach hurt with pleasure. She grabs your wrist if she gets exited about a particular part of her tale and brings it with so much conviction you can see it all happening in front of you.
She is charming and full of experience. You learn that she used to be a dancer but that it is a though living and after she twisted her ankle, there weren't any jobs for her left. She tried to get another job but hasn't found anything yet and thus moved into this building 'cause it was cheap and available on short notice. She has been recovering for a long time but can never dance profesionally again. Once a year she visits her family on the other side of the country.
From then on, Brittany joins you and Oliver on Fridays. You never thought to find friends in this hell hole but whatever is up there proved you wrong. You play card games as well as old board games that Oliver has lying around. She always wins.
You have a sneaky suspicion that somehow she and Oliver play together to make you lose every. damn. time.(you can't find it in your heart to stay mad at them, but when they're both not looking, you make a few little adjustments in the game yourself).
She wins the first bet you lay with her and Oliver. You look at Oliver with distrust, you hardly win and suddenly she wins in her first try?!
He chuckles as Brittany does a little victory dance and shoots you a wink. When it's time for Brittany to claim her price and you get ready to head out to the diner, Oliver excuses himself and informs you he isn't feeling so well.
Suddenly the wink made sense. You want to be mad at him for tricking you into this date(which is not a date) but with Brittany tugging on your hand with eagerness for food, you give in easily and lead the way.