That day we gained a valuable over-a-million-pounds possession but we lost someone too. I was sent straight home for some reason but I was too tired to argue to I just went along with it. I had no idea of anything that happened till I saw Jerry hadn't returned home yet. Apparently, whoever the dealer was, he was a bit of a whiner and was unsatisfied with the stolen whatever-it-was. So he made Jerry "pay" for his "evil" deeds. I guess we both defined "paying" in different ways; his idea was a bullet through the head and mine was with money.
When I found out, I was furious and unable to control the urge to walk up to the guy and give him a nice old spanking. But I wouldn't kill. I would never stoop as low as the people who killed my parents. Never.
Then I calmed down and decided that when I met the guy - soon - I would tell him everything I thought of him. A stupid, degenerate low-life that needed psychological help. Urgently. And of course I would have the honours of treating this patient. My style.
Stella was crying for hours on end. I was annoyed at her for keeping so many things from me, no matter how dangerous they were. I was a part of their family, maybe a good reason for them to try to protect me but I was 14 and I could help. Stella may have cried for 2 days but inside, I just made the dam burst. I was crying inside, heart-broken, and I would continue to cry forever. I never really thought of it this way; a family was like one person and when someone died, a part of that person would die too. You know, turn black and fade away.
You're probably thinking, what's the big deal, you're (me and Jerry) just supposed to be friends? But that's not true. We were never just friends. We weren't a couple or something either - how do I explain it? - we were more like brother and sister. Funny, that was nothing like what we were when we first met...
August 12th 2013. 9:30pm - The night Amanda met them.
"Please," I said, putting on a puppy face for sympathy but all I ever got was laughs. People laughed at me - I was helpless. It was the 3rd week since I had run away. Everybody had their eyes open for me for the first week or so but after that, they just couldn't care less. Anyways, I was safe now, not entirely, but safe enough.
Since I hadn't managed to get any money, I'd been surviving on the little food I brought along: a small cereal box, a carton of milk, a packet of crisps and some chocolate raisons. I know the food was not the best for the situation but I had enough to keep me alive. I never stole - I just didn't have the heart to. People had earned that stuff themselves and it was only a sin to take that from them.
So I stuck to sitting on a muddy pathway in the subway that ran under the tube station. But I did have it all worked out - everyone was here all the time and it was a busy place. Fair enough police officers were at the exits of each side of the subway but one or two people always slipped past unnoticed every half-an-hour. And no officer ever walked through the subway, they just stood at the exits - a fair advantage for me. So anyway, I was still one step ahead of whatever crummy detectives were looking for me because, trust me, this was the the last place they would look. They thought I could't have gotten in without one of the officers seeing me but the thing is, I got here first.
I still b… it sounded terrible but sadly, it was the truth. I still begged, of course and people did give me whatever change they had in their pockets. Mostly pound coins but sometimes, when I was lucky, the odd old lady would be generous and grant me a tenner. There were rude people too, people who stole money from me when they thought I wouldn't notice. But I noticed, all right. I could tell before they even made their move. The guilt would have already have made it to their faces.
Then for the millionth time somebody tried to take money from me when a rather cute, but very short, looking boy grabbed his hand and pulled it back. He never said anything but his expression told it all; you don't want to be doing that, dude.
So anyway, this boy began packing up my things - if you can call a small food bag filled with old food and a hockey cap with money in it things, then ok - then helped me up, passed me my "things" and then grabbing my hand, he grabbed me through the crowd.
At first I let him take me, hypnotised and frozen by his gaze but when my eyes fell upon the officer at the exit, all hell was let loose in me and I tried all I could to get away. It wasn't surprising, I thought. One guy saves your money and the next thing you know is he's taking you to the police - the same ones that were looking for me.
"Hey! Let me go!" I tried to get his grip off my hand but he held on tight. I yelled again, this time louder but funny, the people at the end of the street heard me but this guy didn't. I stopped and tried to stay where I was with all my might. He never noticed so of course he kept walking but then he tugged at me but I didn't budge. He pulled again, harder this time till he got me moving again. I screamed at him again.
"Let me go!" People turned and stared but none tried to help. I was so close to the police. Anytime now, they would have me. I started panicking hastily, screaming, clawing at him but he didn't let go. Suddenly, he stopped and with a sorry look on his face, punched me and knocked me out.
* * *
I woke up after 4 hours in some sort of secret hideout. Honestly, I half expected to have been tied down to a chair but actually, I was on a nice comfy bed in a nice room with no rope around me. Getting up, I realised there were no cops or anything. So in a way, he saved me? Of course me and him had different understandings of "saving". For some reason, punching someone and knocking them out was the way to go and being reasonable like telling someone what the plan was didn't exist in his book. I worked my way around the place till I found a small room, a door I would't have even noticed… actually, there was no door. I didn't want to interrupt what was going on in there so I just peered in through the side.
The kid from before was there and he was with some other kids. Two of them were girls and two of them were boys. They were playing cards and whispering jokes to each other. Then one of the girls said something really quiet, if I was correct it was about me. I could only make out a few words but whatever she said didn't sound funny to me.
The boy started blushing and shaking his head.
I stared at the girl with an evil look. Flirtypants, I thought.
Then the boy saw me but he didn't say anything to his friends. He just coughed and muttered something and left. I tried to run back to the room before he saw I was there but before I could make it to the first bend he had his hand round my arm and was dragging me back.
Oh, I'm in so much trouble! Help me, I thought.
"Hey," he said.
I gaped at him. "What?"
"What's so surprising about it?"
"First you keep your mouth shut like you're on oath or something and then knock me out and now you're saying "hey"?"
He put his hands in his pockets. "Sorry about that. It was just kinda important."
"No! It's not like that. It's just that…"
"What?" I said, getting impatient.
"I guess I owe you an explanation…I'm sorry."
I felt guilty, making him say sorry to me over and over again but served him right for bringing me into this hell-hole.
A girl came running up to us, looking at me like I was the last bit of food on earth.
"Hi! I'm Stella! What's your name?"
"I'm Jerry," he said.
Then they looked to me, expecting an answer from this side too.