Day 93, 11:45pm:
If you listen closely enough to patterns hidden within the rainfall, you can hear even clearer than on a calm night. You hear the disturbances in the water. You can almost pinpoint your focus to wash away all other sounds into the water and just keep your focus clearly on what you’re listening for.
Giving a quick glance up, I’d say it’s just before midnight judging from the position of the moon.
Looking down to my hand I find a brief, almost nostalgic comfort, from the knife in my hand. Years spent in the culinary field gave me an apeciation of a good knife. The weight and balance do all the work for you when used properly.
I seem to be enjoying a brief moment of pure calm and comfort, feeling very comfortble in the eliments around me at the time.
The calm is welcoming, yet almot disapointing and troublesome in itself.
In a last ditch effort to restore some normality in my life I’m almost forcing myself to feel worry, concern, or fear.
Nothing. Just calm, clear headed, and indiferent. Feel as a result there’s almost some humanity lost, but for the moment it’s probably best.
Suddenly I hear the break in the rain pattern that I’ve been expeting. I want to tell myself to calm down, yet I still find myself frighteningly calm and clear headed. It’s for the best though, I don’t have time to look for composure. From the sound of it I have about 10 to15 seconds.
I get myself into position, tighten my grib on the knfe, and prepare myself for what’s about to happen.
In about 10 seconds I’m going to take a man’s life by lunging my knife into his neck
10 minutes earlier:
Catching brief momemts of sleep solely due to being awake for so long now, but the pain still keeps me up. Seemed I was just drifting off when my backpack was ripped from under my head and I was somewhat dragged forward with it. As I start to asses the situation I realise that it’s an “associate” I know, in a really bad drunken rage. We scrap a little bit and I chase him and the dog away.
About 30 seconds later, despite the rain, I hear him coming again. Things are heated. The screaming and random swings keep coming at me. All I want to do is try to rest and heal up a bit. Not fighting a drunken lunatic while I’m alreay wounded and in excruciating pain.
Suddenly he throws his dog up onto the ledge to attack me. Mind you, this ia a very muscular boxer/pitbul mix, however looking into the dog’s eyes, I could sense how sincerely freaked out he was, and that he wanted no part of this as much as I did.
So I threw the dog out the back, got a couple of key shots in, and warned that this has to stop now.
3 Hours earlier:
Finlly it seems that the staff at Uhaul is gone for the night, so I go back into the truck yard and find one with an open container, so I can bed down and get out of the rain that is going to start any minute now.
I can barely climb into the truck with this pain, and have the feeling that sleeping on a metal floor with 3 broken ribs is going to present quite the challenge tonight.
4 Hours earlier:
Looking up, I can tell the man hovering over me means well by trying to help me up, so I feel bad for my tone as my responce was “Don’t fucking touch me!!”
I was still busy proccessing the damage, and making sure that everything was still working, or at least no much less than usual.
All I remember is other bike rider coming out of nowhere, me jamming the breaks, flying over the handlebars and smashin into the curb.
“Thank you, I just need a moment”
“Ok buddy, just trying to help” and then he goes about hi day
“Two hours and I already hate this damn bike” I murmer to myself.
2 Hours ealier:
Well I just spent my last $10 on an awful new bike, but not left with much choice at moment. This is all I’m going to get with the money I have. Have some cash coming in a few days for producing clean urine for a friend, but with my bike gone, and appointments to make I need this shitty bike for transportation.
“Fuck it, better than nothing. I’ll take it”
6 Hours earlier:
I’m being tested here. That can be the only explanation.
Having to help this idiot get himself together, dressed, and get to his court date first thing this morning. Otherwise there will be a warrent for his arest.
Considering that he has just returned from 5 days missing, crawling through the sewers, in an Aderal psychosis.
I don’t have patience for this, but I know he would do this for me.
The fact that he left 5 days ago on my bike, and has returned with no idea whatever happened to it, does not help soothe my agrevation.
First thing first. He aint going to help me get a new bike if he’s in jail.
“Well, how much worse could this day get”?
*note: after original wave of feedback it’s clear that i have to say, fortunately for both of us, the drunk never returned the 3rd time, so i never actually had to kill him.
Thank you all for your lack of ability to just go with a flow of story telling.
Couldn’t explain that in story while maintaining structural and creative integrity.
Simply part of a new series of accounts from my 195 on street after i was kicked out of the shelter.