I’ve been homeless for close to four years now. No, it’s not because I’m lazy, and it’s not because I made bad choices, at least no more than the average person. Sometimes bad things happen to good people, but that’s a story for another day. I’m writing this because I need help. I only have until they kick me out of the library to write this, they don’t like us in here, think we’re trying to steal the books or something.
I’ve seen a lot of shit, living on the streets, things that you couldn’t even make up. It’s best to have a few companions that you can trust, people who won’t steal your shit, and will share the limited resources they have. For me, that’s Cooper, Dotti, and Oz.
I won’t go into how the lot of them ended up like me, but suffice to say it’s turned them into an old bitter bunch, much like myself. Cooper is only thirty and handsome enough to rely on his looks and charm, to make a bit of money panhandling. Dotti despite being in her mid twenties, looks no older than sixteen, people trust her, don’t see her as vermin like myself; her game is pick-pocketing. I don’t necessarily approve of it, but I can’t turn my nose up at the results, a man has to eat. Oz is the oldest of the group but a wiz for MacGayvering whatever you might need. Ask Oz for something you need, she’ll tell you the parts to bring her and she’ll rig you something better than store bought; she also has a knack for stretching a dollar and often manages to fashion tasty meals out of whatever we’re able to scrounge up.
Some people might refer to our rag-tag group as a family, I would not. You get close to the people you travel with, sure, but it’s purely out of necessity. Everyone in our pack has a role, something that benefits the rest of the group. I myself, am the muscle. I’m not as big as I used to be, my diet doesn’t allow me to get quite enough protein for that, but at 6’3”, I’m an intimidating figure. Even despite my height, the scar across my right cheekbone and the fact that I look angry regardless of mood is usually enough to deter people from messing with us.
Oz and I have been a team since pretty much day one, she’s been homeless most of her life and sort of “took me in.” She taught me the best ways to feed myself, where to sleep at night, and little tips and tricks like insulating your jacket with newspaper to keep warm, or what places let you hang out during the day. Cooper joined the team about two years ago when Oz found him getting harassed by the police for sleeping at a bus stop. Dotti is our most recent recruit, she sort of found us, and like a stray kitten has never left.
Dotti has a special place in my heart, never having had children, I almost think of her as my daughter. At times I almost act like her father, picking her up and carrying her around on my massive shoulders, or carrying her home after a long day of scavenging. The events leading to her losing her home would bring anyone to tears, myself included. But even though her life has been a series of pain, and unfair circumstances, Dotti is my ray of sunshine. She has the sunniest disposition of anyone I know, always hopeful, constantly smiling. She truly believes that each and everyone of ours’ luck will turn around, and for a moment, we thought hers had.
Dotti was approached at the shelter a week ago about “Career Counseling.” It’s a new service that they’re offering to homeless people who have shown “potential,” in the words of the staff member she spoke to. They would work with her to create a resume, help her reach out to potential employers and provide her with a selection of donated clothing to help her look presentable. I’d never seen Dotti so ecstatic, which is saying something; the girl literally dances when we manage to get two meals a day.
Dotti left to meet with the career counselor two days ago, wide eyed and grinning, she had even used the bit of lipstick she saved for special occasions and was looking extra radiant. I’ll admit, although slightly jealous, I was excited for her. She deserved to get out of the streets before they wore her down and stole her joy like they had mine.
We expected her back a few hours later, but five passed before she returned to the abandoned subway platform where we stayed most nights. It had gotten dark outside and my protective instinct kicked in. Cooper and myself decided to head to the shelter to see if we could wait for her and escort her home, if they hadn’t given her a bed for the night.
It didn’t take long to find her. She was wandering the street that connected the main street to the station. Something was wrong. She looked tired, her usual smile missing. We asked her how the counseling went but she just sort of looked at us like she didn’t quite know our faces. It was disconcerting as hell, like looking a ghost in the face, rather than the happy girl we’ve known.
We brought her home, she wouldn’t follow us, but we were able to steer her through the station and down under the passageway that led us to our spot. Entering the platform our little crash site is nestled behind a bunch of crates and old barrier parts. Although our particular portion of the station is no longer used for boarding the subway, the train still runs past it, so it’s wise to stay hidden. I could smell the soup that Oz was cooking on the camp stove, she had worked her magic again.
Dotti didn’t show any signs of recognition. Oz seemed even more concerned than we had. She demanded to know what had happen, but we didn’t have many answers for her. She sat Dotti down and bundled her up in a hospital blanket before handing her a bowl of soup. Dotti took the bowl from Oz, but didn’t make any move to drink it, just stared straight ahead, saying nothing.
We tried to get her to eat, to speak, anything. We considered taking her to the hospital but it’s not like any of us had the money to afford a bill, besides they kill us in there. Oz concluded that the best thing would be to call it an early night, and see if she was better by morning. I didn’t like that, but there was nothing else we could think of to do.
I stayed awake as long as I could watching her. She didn’t sleep, didn’t even close her eyes, just stared ahead, barely blinking. Eventually I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer and I felt myself drift off to sleep.
The harsh light of morning seeping in from the street through the cracks in the stone walls woke me. Groggily I looked around to make sure we were all here and safe, as is my habit. Dotti was gone. My heart jumped into my throat as I scanned the room for her. There she was standing at the foot of the platform. I only saw her for just a moment before I heard the rumble of the train and watched her fall face forward onto the tracks. The train came with a horrible crunch and it felt as if I was there with her on the tracks; all of my breathe leaving my body I stood paralyzed as I realized we’d lost her.
We don’t know any of Dotti’s family, and there wasn’t much of a body to bury, at least that’s what Cooper said; I couldn’t bear to look. After the police came and hosed down the tracks, scraping up her remains unceremoniously, we held a small memorial service for her. We gathered up the things she loved, her lavender lipstick, rootbeer flavored candies, and put together a few dollars to get the candles with the pictures of saints on them. We huddled together, the small group that we had left and I prayed to a god I hadn’t remembered in a long time.
I don’t know what they did to her at that “Career Counseling” meeting, but Dotti would never do that. She was sunshine, she was hope and the future and everything wonderful melted into a ball of sweetness, and she would never lose hope, no matter what had happened to her. The only conclusion that I can draw is that she was not acting of her own will. Please, if you have any information, let me know, I will try to check in when I have access to a computer again. I don’t know what’s going on at the homeless shelter, but I’m going to find out before they do this to anyone else.
Submitted March 01, 2017 at 09:02AM by D0nutblink http://ift.tt/2mEE4Lu
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