The music was set on a medium level as the men in the living room and kitchen laughed and conversed with each other. Women walked around with bottles in their hand, half naked. The TV was playing loudly, but no one was watching it.
The man on the living room couch was slouched in a corner with his head tilted back. His mouth opened widely as he snored his life away. He hadn't gotten that much sleep in a while and even then it wasn't enough. He was never one to sleep around noise, but being on the streets for almost five years made him used to it.
"You slumped from that pull man?" A man chuckled from beside him.
"Mhmm." He mumbled in his sleep and turned over on his side. He gripped his stomach and nodded back to sleep.
The man beside him shook his head and looked over at the woman by the window of the kitchen. She looked through the blinds and suddenly turned around.
"Turn down the music," She called out.
"Bitch, who the fuck-"
"The police are here and they don't look like they're gonna knock." Her voice wavered in fright.
Quickly, everyone stood up and grabbed their belongings. Suitcases and briefcases were pushed wide open and drugs, needles and masks were stuffed into them. The women rushed around as they placed their clothes on and flew out from the side door along with a few others.
"Zyan, you gotta wake up, dude."
Suddenly, the front door flew open and the police swarmed in.
The man that was seated beside Zyan yanked him up. That alone caused him to jump out of his sleep and run. He stuffed himself in the near bedroom and followed a few people as they pulled the heavy window open and jumped out.
"Go, go, go."
Zyan never felt his adrenaline heighten like that before. He couldn't get locked up.
He balanced his one leg and pulled his other leg out before he ran. Looking behind him, he noticed his drug plug running behind him as well. They ran down the alley and paused when they saw a cop car in front of them.
"The gate." The man called out.
Zyan rushed to his left and jumped onto the gate. He groaned in pain as he crawled up. He'd never been in an athletic moment since the beginning of college. Not only was he not in shape, but he didn't have the healthy internal organs that he used to have that made active things easy for him. He was in pain all the time because of the lack of care he received.
And, the drugs didn't help either.
He was an addict and he'd say it in the nicest way possible.
Been an addict for five years.
Five years ago he was strung out after being disowned by his parents and he met a fellow named; Joey at a college party. Thumb covered in white products as he placed it into his mouth.
He beckoned the tall and lanky man over, noticing that they had a few classes together and put him on.
He'd been hooked ever since.
Sadly, it costed him his life and his loved ones around him. Drugs took over his life until he didn't give a shit.
It was something that was fun, then turned into a habit. A lifestyle.
"You hear anything?"
"Nah," Zyan shook his head as they leaned into the side of a random house. The drug house was just a few blocks down, but they knew that they wouldn't be able to go back there ever again.
"Fuck!" Joey yelled out and held his hands over his head. "They've been watching me- I knew they've been watching me and they raided my shit."
Zyan stood there, fiddling with his fingers in silence.
"I left a couple bags over there- Fuck!" Joey kicked the garbage bin near him. "I gotta get out of here, man. They're gonna come looking for me again until they find me."
"Where are you gonna go?" Zyan ran his hands through his wavy curls and his scruffy beard that was filled out crazily. He didn't even look like himself.
"Somewhere in Latin America or some shit. I know a couple people over there that got me." Joey shook his head.
"Let me come with you."
He'd do anything to get out of this shit hole. He had no purpose in this town anymore. He had nothing left. It was either dead on the street or try to start a new life somewhere else.
"No, you can't come. I don't need no man hooked on drugs coming with me."
"Please, Joey. I need to get out of here. There's nothing here for me-"
"There's a lot of shit here for you," Joey glared at him. "I don't need no addict-"
"You created me!" Zyan yelled out in rage. He pursed his lips and looked around the neighbourhood before he looked back at the man. "You did this to me- you made me an addict. Or you got fucking dementia?"
Joey scoffed and looked away. He knew that the man was right. Five years ago, he did.
"You made me leave my family, you made her leave-"
"I didn't make her or you do shit! You did this to yourself." Joey snapped. "You chose this over them, that has nothing to do with me."
Zyan chuckled bitterly and scoffed. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He was never a man to beg, but he felt like getting on his knees right now.
Being on the streets wasn't the easiest at all. Especially when you didn't grow up with any streets mentality. He grew up in a closed off Pakistani family where he didn't have to do much. He wasn't that social, he didn't learn much about cooking or cleaning, because there were already roles and rules instilled in the house. He didn't learn to be street smart, because there wasn't any need to since he'd never be on them.
He had to build it all in five years.
And, he was still struggling.
"I gotta go, man. Here."
Zyan looked down at the small briefcase and opened it. It was filled with drugs and a bit of cash that could maybe get him a BLT and a Coke... maybe a cookie, too.
Joey shook his head and walked backwards. "Take care, bud."
And, he was alone.
Slowly, he turned around and walked out of the neighbourhood from a path. He looked around the town and gripped the case in his left hand. His long legs moved slowly as he walked along the sidewalk.
Soon his adrenaline was gone and was replaced with pain. He looked down at his leg through his black cargo pants that he received from a second hand clothing box, and noticed a dark red patch. The patch was growing bigger and bigger by the second.
"Fuck," He mumbled and peeled the pants up. He groaned at the sight of the cut on his leg from when he had jumped out of the window of the house. He didn't even feel anything as his adrenaline was sky high.
"Sir, are you okay?"
Looking up, he noticed the woman in her trench coat and long dress pants. She crouched down towards him and frowned as he took a couple of steps away from her.
"I'm fine," He grumbled.
"You look like you need some help."
"Seriously, I'm fine. Thank you."
She nodded and looked at him with concern, but walked off, thankfully.
Zyan sighed heavily and ripped a bit of fabric from his sweater. He wrapped it around his leg and continued walking.
That should do it for now.
He reminded himself to find some alcohol to pour on it very soon.
-
It felt like he'd been walking for hours and hours. The sun was down and people were not out partying, out for dinner or just taking walks with their loved ones.
Zyan was alone trying to find somewhere to sleep for the night.
He'd been so busy trying to find a place to lie down, he didn't even focus on the fact that he needed his fix for the last time that day.
He had his BLT, his Coke and his chocolate chip cookie that he couldn't stop thinking about. He remembered when his fiancée would make them
As he walked across the street- well, limped, he noticed a vacant spot by the train station entryway. He noticed a man sitting against the wall with his head up in the clouds. His nose scrunched up with curiosity and deep thought.
Looking around the street, he wasn't shocked to see more homeless people on the street. People were becoming homeless left and right, because of how hard it was to get a good paying job, gentrification, and many other heartbreaking things.
Zyan hiked his bag onto his shoulder that was filled with a blanket that he'd gotten from the box and two pieces of cardboard.
He threw his bag against the wall and looked down at the man.
"C-can I-"
"Free country." The white man waved him off. He looked up at the sky and frowned. "It's going to rain soon."
Zyan looked over at him as they sat under the small roof by the entrance. They weren't going to be taking wet, but they were still going to be wet. Zyan had a shitty immune system and found himself getting sick almost all the time. And, it didn't help that the town had such bipolar weather.
He remembered the time where he got sick from the cold winter weather and had to slip his way back into that shelter that he promised himself he would never go back to. That was the last time that he was ever there. He hated being there and as soon as he got better, he was out.
Zyan nodded towards the bottle of vodka beside the man. He was a drinker.
He handed it over to him and watched without a word as he peeled his cargo pants back and unraveled the knot. He poured the alcohol on his leg and winced at the burning sensation.
"Ah, shit." He groaned and wrapped the cloth around his leg again. He thanked the man and handed him back his drink.
"It looks like you're prepared."
"And, it looks like you're not." The man chuckled.
The rest of his things were left in the drug house. He was on the street downtown and was invited over to the drug house by Joey. He was cool with the fact that it was filed with a bunch of drug dealers, naked women and people like him. As long as there was a couch for him to sleep on.
"I lost my things." He scrunched his nose up when he felt a raindrop on his face.
"Here." He handed him a cardboard that was wrapped up in a garbage bag. Zyan thanked him and placed it under him. He wrapped the fuzzy blanket around his body and lied onto the cardboard.
Slowly, he reached into his pocket and grabbed the thin paper that was wrinkling terribly as the years went by. Although the picture was a bit tainted, it never ripped. Ever.
It was the only thing that kept him sane and put together. He knew that he would've been dead if he didn't have the picture. When he was in his rough times and felt like he was hanging on a thin thread, he looked at the picture and instantly felt better.
He cherished the picture with everything.
He could remember all those times where he was beaten off of people's property, running for his life from people... animals. He fought for his life as a homeless man who lost everything in the blink of an eye.
A smile lifted onto his face as he stared at the little baby that was only three months, in the young woman's arms. Her smile was wide showing her slight gap in her two front teeth. He curls cascaded bast her shoulders as she looked down at the small baby, like her world was in front of her.
And, that was the exact look that he was giving them behind the camera.
They were his world.
His newborn son that was probably a big boy, was his world.
But, it was all snatched from his hands because of him.
And, now he had to live the life that he was living because of him.
"Cute family."
Zyan's head snapped over and looked at the man who was looking back at him with a light smile.
"I have older kids... don't know where they are right now. They don't want anything to do with me- said they can't help me if I don't want to help myself." He shrugged, but the pain in his eyes was so loud. "Bringing them into the world is filled with joy and you feel like the best thing on the planet. But, disappointing them is the worst thing ever. You get the worst feeling and I don't wish it upon anyone."
Zyan nodded. He couldn't disagree at all.
"How old are your kids?"
"Twenty-four and twenty-eight." The man looked over at him. "How old is your kid?"
Zyan sat up and tucked the picture away.
"He's turning five- he should be four."
Suddenly, the man's eyes widened in realization. He rubbed the man's shoulder and looked over at him.
"Everything will work in God's favour one way or the other."
Zyan looked at him and shook his head. He didn't know what to believe in anymore.
_________________
I can't wait to get on with this book. I have so many good things for it.
discussion: what do you guys think about getting a glimpse of Zyan? thoughts on him? what do you think about him being homeless and an addict?
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