I sat at the topmost building of my university, glancing at the bustling scene of students walking in and out. I twirled my pen, jotting down things I have to do after defending my project. Yes, I am a final year student, and after my defense, I would be free from school and fully enter the adult world.
It's not as if I have not entered already, since I am an orphan and I already left the orphanage. I have a couple of part-time jobs shuffled here or there just to have barely enough money for food and my small storage room rent. I was left at the front of the orphanage home as a baby, covered with a thin shawl and a very high fever; my mother, whoever she was, probably couldn't afford medications. Sometimes I wonder how she decided to have me when she was probably not able to take care of herself, not to talk of a baby. But I personally feel I was not wanted, but who cares? It's not like I will ever meet her.
After I was done jotting, I went to the pavement. Standing there, I thought if I fell, how painful will my death be? The thought of this brought a smirk to my face. Looking at the floor from above, the distance is quite far. After some time, I turned back, packed my things, and headed home. Since today was my off day in my afternoon part-time job, I took my time walking from the university to my humble home.
While walking, I saw restaurants decorated with Valentine themes; that was when I remembered that today is Valentine's Day. Not that I have a man—I wish I had, but I am not sure I can find one because I feel starved of love, so I want someone crazy about me. Yeah, I am definitely not too okay, I am sure y'all can feel it, but so what?
After a half-hour journey, I got to my residing area. The street was filled with trash, and some people can be seen betting in some corners while others are smoking at another corner. As I passed by, they glanced at me and moved their eyes away; they know I am not someone they would want to trouble. I can almost remember the event that made them realize that I may look innocent, but I am just psychotic.
That night was just like any other day; I finished all my part-time jobs by 1 am. On my way home, a group of thugs came to me. As their fingers touched me, I said they should let me be. But they continued. That was the first time I felt a stone can be so sharp to draw blood; the strength came out of nowhere. Though I was slapped multiple times, by the time I was done with them, I was a bloody case. Blood was dripping from my mouth, my scalp tingling from the pain caused by them dragging my hair, but they were each lying on the floor. Some were bleeding from their pants, others their eyes; some of their hands were bent the wrong way.
The way their eyes followed me as I left felt exciting; I could almost taste their fear. Since that day, I don't know how it spread, but everyone in the neighborhood knows not to ever cross the innocent-looking student.
Unknownly, I have gotten to my building. The paintings have peeled off and the stairs creaked as I walk on them. Before I could enter my room, the door to the room next to me opened. A woman escorted a greasy-looking man out of the room while actively hugging and acting coquettishly. I just glanced once and I entered my room, locking the door behind me. I placed my bags on the bed; after kicking off my shoes and socks, I fell on the bed and slept off.
I woke up due to the sounds of creaking of the bed and the grunts and moans of a woman. Yes, the room next door is at it again; not like I blame her, that's her source of livelihood. I sat up on my bed. Taking my bag, I removed the keypad phone that is begging its owner to replace it since it has been packed and patched with plaster and rubber bands.
The time was 6 pm on the dot. I grabbed my bags after letting my hair down and I headed to my workplace. On my way, my stomach growled, reminding me of the fact that I haven't had anything since morning. But the thought of my workplace made me hum tunes from my favorite piece. I would definitely have food for dinner.
When I got there, I could see the owner of the store sitting at the counter; an older woman, probably in her late fifties, wearing grandma glasses with white hair starring her dark hair.
"Good evening, Madam Elora," I greeted along with the sound of the bell due to my entrance.
"Oh Sandra, you're here. I made brownies today and I am sure you will love them," she said with a kind smile as she turned to leave the counter to go bring the brownies.
"I definitely will," I smiled gently, happy that there are still kinder people on earth. Madam Elora came back with a plate of brownies which she handed to me as she took her bags to leave.
"You can sleep if the customers are not coming..."
After instructing me on what to do, she left. I went to the counter and took out my earpiece, then I plugged a piece in my ears while I played my favorite songs on my phone. While doing this, I chewed on the brownies slowly.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in an alley, a young man could be seen running while glancing back with fear in his expression. After running for a while, he got to a dead end.
"Cosimo, I had no choice but to sell the drugs! My daughter was sick. You devil, how can you not have some compassion?" the man said as he glanced at the person walking towards him with a cool expression.
"You know my dad just died, and I promised there would be no bloodshed this week. How could you have not done the right thing?" Cosimo took out cigarettes from his pocket and bent to the man's level as he said this.
"I am sorry, I really had no choice..." The man had not finished his sentence when Cosimo lit the cigarette and blew smoke into his face.
Cosimo looked at the man in front of him and sighed, after which he waved his hands at the person behind him to hand him the knife.
The man begged desperately, "Cosimo, please!" Cosimo ignored him and unbuttoned his shirt cuffs, which he folded back, revealing a snake tattoo. He then pulled the man's head back as he brought the knife to his neck. Gunshots rang out.
Bang! Bang!
His subordinates yelled, "Boss, it is a trap!" In a moment of thought, Cosimo felt a chill and dodged, deflecting a fatal knife blow which missed his heart by just an inch.
Cosimo used the knife to stab the man directly in his heart. As the man lay dead on the floor, gunshots were being exchanged by both groups. Feeling he was losing blood, Cosimo maneuvered his way around, leaving the alley. As he walked on, he started feeling dizzy and ended up collapsing.
A few minutes after midnight, I closed up and went home. As I got closer, I perceived the smell of blood. Deciding it was nothing new, I ignored it until I got to the entrance of our building, where I saw a man had collapsed.
Glancing at the unconscious man, I just sighed, muttering, "Why does it have to be now?" I decided to just pass by and ignore him, but feeling a rare moment of compassion, I dragged him to my room. After hours of struggling, I was finally able to place him on my mattress.
I searched for my medication bag, after which I took out a disinfectant and a plaster. I quickly opened his shirt to check the bleeding site, which turned out to be a knife injury. After cleaning him, I laid down beside him to sleep.
Later, I woke up to someone muttering. That was when I realized the man had a fever, so I had to take a cloth soaked in water and place it on his forehead.
"You had better be worth all this trouble," I said when his fever finally died down.