Opposites Attract | Wroetoshaw/Sidemen

3

I didn't want to panic. I still had one sandwich left. I would just have to ration. It wouldn't be too hard, I've done it before. I will just have to go a couple days without food. Easy.

I decided the best thing to do was take small sips of water to ease into a routine of eating less. Maybe that would help?

I turned around to grab my last water, it was full to the brim, which was very lucky and very rare. But before my hand clasped around the bottle, my arm had a small spasm as it hits the side of the bottle and falls to the ground. Water spilled all of my clothes, sleeping bag and over my last sandwich. I watched as in a matter of seconds my supplys were drenched with water.

"FUCK," I screamed, smashing my fist into the window behind me, it shattered to pieces and my eyes filled with tears. Glass covered my living space, luckily none hit my eyes. This was a nightmare.

I knew people would be looking, staring, tugging at their parents to look at me. But I didn't care. Nothing I could do would change their minds on me. Telling them the truth if they were to listen wouldn't be any good. I'd get the same look to say;

"You've wasted your life."

Tears made my sleeping bag more wet than it already was, but there was nothing to do. Today it was cloudy and gloomy, no sun to dry it off and so sun to heat me up.

What was going to happen? What would happen if I went too long without food and water? I knew deep down I wouldn't make it long, still being only 23. By this age I should be a successful woman, my life would be on track, happy.

But instead my life was ruined, I was wasted potential and I was never going to succeed in life.

As I calmed down listening to the soothing music played by buskers, the soft strum of a guitar and the gentle but powerful voice of the busker them self. My breathing slowly matched the beat of each strum, my head wandering to a new place, a peaceful, exhausted, hungry, thirsty.
Out cold. Literally.

I woke up with a start, a shiver going down my spine. I looked down at my bare arms and saw goosebumps all the way down. Then I reached my hand. I saw it was bloodied and battered, red staining the green fabric of my sleeping bag. Must have been from the window,as I noticed small glass shards in my knuckles, blood dripping from the gashes.

That was the least of my worries. I was starting to remember from before my blackout. No food, no water. I forced myself to sit up and figure out what to do.

I had no idea what to do. For the many times before, I had no idea what to do. Like my first day at boarding school. The taxi ride. The abusive parents. The school bullies.
Everything. Everything in my life is an obstacle, no pathways to happiness, successes, achievements. Just loneliness, heartbroken and  death, which I know deep down is a possibility.

I closed my eyes again, hoping this was all a dream and I would wake up in a warm bed, breakfast smells filling the air, the laughter echoing through the house.
Why did I think that was going to work?

~

The birds chimed their morning song, my alarm as always. It was quite obnoxious to sleep through. I checked my phone and realised I'd slept for five days. It was Sunday. I was surprised I'd managed to sleep through the Saturday rush hours, London was usually packed.

It was 5:00am. I looked over to see the empty sandwich box and remembered I hadn't eaten in a few days. Within remembering I heard my stomach growl, and I groaned and turned to face the public. I'm sure people were used to seeing the homeless, but I still hated the glares and stares. But today was quiet and the rush hour hadn't begun, so there weren't any people around to see me. I still shivered in my damp sleeping bag but managed to drift back off to sleep, the only thing I could do. This helped greatly from the eerie silence and the gentle breeze as leaves swayed to and fro.

~

The rush hour had begun. Children shouting for their parents. Teens begging to go inside each shop they past. Birds swooping in every second to steal some chips. I sighed. Never a peaceful day in London.

I was going to try and fall back asleep when I noticed a large crowd around the centre of Leicester Square.

I sat up a little more and tried to peer my head of the thick groups of people. I managed to spot one guy holding a very large camera, one guy talking, maybe six more guys talking and laughing. They were obviously famous. And every famous person I had seen if Leicester Square were just there to gloat on their money or promote themselves to the public. I turned back around, sick of seeing these people already.

A few minutes passed, the joyous laughter never fading, bringing small joy into my heart to know others were happy.

A small tap on my shoulder awoke me from my haze. And I was very surprised to see two boys staring back at me.