Ghetto

by M L Sparrow

  Frowning as we start walking, I enquire further, “What about the people living in the left side?”

  “They’re fine for now. If that changes we’ll move them too, but there’s nowhere for them to go.” Mulling this over, I automatically slip my hand into his as we head back towards Base, following a route which takes us through a maze of dirty alleys, instead of going along the main road.

  Suddenly Sin’s work roughened hand squeezes mine tighter and then he jerks me back. Yelping in pain, I shoot him an accusing look, but before I can say anything he lifts a finger to his lips, silencing me. Pulling me further back into the shadows of the alley, he points out a uniformed policeman rounding the corner. Luckily he hadn’t noticed us; his focus was on a bearded old man, wearing a beanie hat and a grubby trench coat despite the weather, sitting on an old food crate at the edge of the curb. Sauntering up to him with a cruel smirk, the policeman kicked his seat away, sending the old man sprawling to the ground.

  “Get up, you lazy tosser,” the police officer orders harshly, spitting on the ground in disgust. When the other man doesn’t obey right away, he grabs him by the back of the jacket and drags him to his feet, only to shove him back down again a second later, followed by a vicious kick. I flinch in sympathy, remembered pain shooting through my ribs as images and feelings from my own attack come rushing back to me. Before I can think about the consequences of my actions, I have already started forward, intending to intervene, but Sin yanks me back into the shadows.

  “We need to help him?” I hiss.

  “I’ll help, you stay here.”

  “But…”

  Silencing me with a quick, hard kiss, he pulls back to say, “I mean it, stay here.” A second later, after a stern look, he hurries off… except that he’s going in the wrong direction.

  Turning back to the scene playing out in the middle of the street, I wince, barely holding back a cry of protest as the policeman lands a kick to the old man’s head. His victim is now curled into the foetal position, arms wrapped around his head to protect against the blows raining down on him. People have begun to gather at either end of the street, watching uncertainly, shifting as if about to help before moving back.

  From one of the many windows overlooking the street, a woman yells, “Oi! Leave ‘im be. He ain’t done nothin’ to you.” Unsurprisingly, her words go unheeded. I’m practically trembling with the need to help; I feel like such a coward just hiding here, but Sin had told me he’d sort it and I had to trust him. If I didn’t it wouldn’t matter how many kisses we shared, or if we held hands, because all those gestures would be empty, meaningless. Trust was what really made a relationship work and I wanted us to work. I wanted to see how far we could take this.

  As if on cue, a loud voice shouts, “Hey, arsehole, pick on someone your own size.” I’m so relieved to see Sin appear behind the pair that I can’t help but smile, chewing anxiously at my thumbnail. “I’m talkin’ to you.” Stepping forward, Sin grabs the back of the cop’s uniform and yanks him away from the old man laying defenceless on the ground. The policeman whirls around, swinging his baton. Side stepping, Sin avoids the bulk of the blow, but the tip of the baton sizzles across his neck; it is enforced with electrical currents, making it work in a similar way to a stun-gun. Cringing as Sin narrowly avoids another blow by a hairsbreadth, I edge forward slightly to get a better look just as he takes a swing. His fist collides with the other mans’ jaw. My dad once told me, all bullies are cowards and the policeman proves that theory. Reeling back, he spits blood, lifting a hand to his face as he back away.

  His retreat gives Sin the perfect opportunity to go on the attack, but he doesn’t. Instead, he steps back and inclines him head. “Scram.” The cop does just that, talking as he stumbles away.

  “All units, assistance required on Marks Street.” It looks like he’s talking into thin air, but the words are being transmitted to his team via the tiny, undetectable earpiece he’s wearing. His exact location is also being broadcast to the Palm Readers all officers were required to carry in order to keep them updated at all times.

  When the officer backs off a safe distance, snarling at them from the end of the street, I rush from my hiding place. Most of the people gathered do the same and I’m soon lost amid the crowd. Pushing through the sudden crush of bodies and concerned whispers, I spy Sin crouched next to the old man, who is now sat on the curd, his head bowed. As I watch, a bustling, grey haired woman pushes him out of the way, dabbing at a cut on the man’s head with the edge of her skirt and making sympathetic sounds in the back of her throat.

  A dark skinned young boy picks up the man’s fallen hat and hands it to him, saying, “Here ya go.”

  Moving out of the way, Sin glances up, spots me and raises his gaze skyward despairingly. Coming to stand beside me, hands shoved deep into his jeans pockets, he asks, “Do you ever do what you’re told?”

  “I did,” I cry indignantly.

  Rolling my eyes, he takes my elbow, saying, “Come on, let’s get outta here.”

  “What about him?”

  “I think he’s got enough people fussin’ over him.” Sure enough several other women have joined the first. “Best go before more coppers come.”

  Seeing the situation is being handled, I nod my agreement and as we leave Sin calls out a quick warning for everyone to scarper, which prompts people to get up and start moving. The old man, supported between two women, is lead inside one of the buildings. Quickly, our footsteps loud on the cobbled street, we head back to Base and it’s only as we’re stepping through the door that I realize that I probably should have filmed the horrendous attack. It would have shown the general public the police’s true colours. However, it’s too late now.

  Chapter 16

  Unfortunately, I get plenty more opportunities to get similar footage, because over the next few days the abuse and violence escalates. However, since I am safely enclosed in the rebel Base, I don’t actually realize how bad things are until Maya walks into the canteen several days later, sporting a black eye.

  “Oh my God!” I cry, shooting to my feet and hurrying over, guiding her to a seat at the table where I’m sitting with Sin, Kit and a silent, tight faced Ben. Sitting beside her, I put an arm around her slender, shaking shoulders. “Maya, what happened?”

  “The cops,” her voice trembles ever so slightly and her bottom lip wobbles, before she regains control of herself, “they came to our flat. Wanted to look around, so we let them in, said we had nothing to hide. They were tossin’ stuff everywhere and my dad said something. I didn’t hear what.” A hysterical little laugh escapes her lips. “He thinks he’s funny, but he’s really not. The cops didn’t find him funny either.” Her laugh transforms into a sob and on the other side of her, Ben slides closer, hesitating a moment before reaching out to lay his large hand over her tiny one atop the table. Not seeming to notice, though she leans into him, Maya continues haltingly, “One of them hit him. And he just kept hitting him. Mama begged him to stop. I did, too. But he didn’t. He was going to kill him, I’m sure of it! I tried to pull him away and he punched me. Next thing I know, the place is a mess and the cops are gone.”

  “Is your dad okay?” Ben asks gruffly, squeezing her fingers with surprising tenderness.

  “Yeah,” she nods, sniffing, “my Mama’s lookin’ after him, but I just needed to get outa there for a while.”

  “You’re always welcome here,” Sin assures her sincerely and I glance over to see the concern in his steel blue eyes. Turning my gaze back to Maya, I catch a glimpse of the darkening window in my peripheral vision.

  “It’s almost dark already. You should probably stay here tonight, you don’t want to risk getting caught out after curfew.”

  Nodding his agreement, Sin says, “Kit, go see if you can find a spare bed somewhere.” Kit’s expression is doubtful; the Base is jam packed at the moment, but he gets up anyway and is about to dutifully carry out his task when Ben speaks up out of the blue.

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nbsp; “Don’t bother, she can have my bed tonight.” Wide eyed, Maya looks just as shocked as the rest of us as he stands up, keeping hold of her hand and drawing her up beside him. “Come on,” he murmurs, “let’s get you cleaned up.” The tenderness in his voice makes me do a double take and rethink my previous assumption that Ben was indifferent to my friends’ obvious affection.

  As they’re leaving, hand in hand, Kit voices the thought running through all our heads. “I didn’t see that comin’.”

  A short time later, I crawl into bed beside Sin, fully clothed, just as we have been for the last few nights, and curl up in his arms. “This is all my fault,” I whisper after a minute, the snug privacy of the darkness around and between us tempting the words from my lips. The mattress squeaks as Sin leavers himself up onto an elbow beside me.

  For a while he doesn’t speak, but when he does the words are blunt. “Don’t be stupid. Some’it had to give eventually.” Once more the old mattress, sagging in the middle, protests as he moves to lay back down. Again, the silence descends and my weary body is just beginning to drift off, despite my restless mind when he comments softly, “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. When we started we weren’t plannin’ on bein’ rebels, I just wanted to help people. We were gunna be peaceful protestants and for the most part we were, I swear. I don’t wanna give those arseholes in the city any more reasons to hate us, I don’t wanna be the violent thug they say we are, ‘cos that would just be provin’ them right. I was tryin’ to do the right thing, to do it the right way, but no one out there listens.” The frustration in his voice makes my heart ache, because he is trying so hard to be the bigger man in this never-ending conflict, and all the world ever seems to do is throw it back in his face.

  “What happened on the day of my dads’ re-election?” I have to ask, because those had definitely not been peaceful, harmless protests.

  I can hear the rasp of his hair against our shared pillow as he shakes his head. “That got outa hand. So many people turned up and they were angry. Can you blame ‘em? Your dads’ re-election meant yet another five years of having a President who wouldn’t hear us out.”

  Nodding, I reach out through the darkness to lay my hand on his chest, “I understand.”

  Briefly, I can feel the agitated beat of his heart against my palm, before he shrugs off my touch. “No, you don’t. How could you?” That hurt, I’ll admit, but not as much as him rolling over so that his back’s to me. There’s only a few inches separating us, but it feels like miles and it’s lonely.

  Pretty soon, Sin’s soft snores advertise the fact that he’s fallen asleep, however, I stay up stewing well into the night, until I finally pass out from sheer exhaustion, a headache throbbing behind my eyes.

  In the morning, when I wake, I’m disappointed to find myself alone in bed. Though I can understand the reasons for his abrupt change in mood last night, the mention of my dad reminding both of us that technically I should be the enemy, that doesn’t mean I’m not a tad angry at him for not waking me up to say goodbye like he usually does. My mood isn’t improved by the fact that the ache in my head had transformed into a brutal, pounding pain that makes my vision darken when I move too quickly.

  Gingerly bending to pick up a clean set of clothes from the small, untidy pile in the corner, I head across the hall to the bathroom to get washed up before heading to the canteen for something to eat; though I’m not particularly hungry, I know I should be and I also know that I have to keep eating regular meals in order to keep my strength up. Waiting for me in the canteen, Maya stands up when I enter the room, giving me a small, strained smile. Understandably, she’s not quite her usual exuberant self, but she seems to have recovered a little from the previous night, though her right eye is now swollen completely shut.

  “There you are, I’ve been waiting for you. It’s almost two you lazy bones. I was about to go check you were still alive.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. How are you feeling now?”

  Shrugging, she trails behind me as I go over to the kitchen to butter a slice of bread. “Got a headache still, but I’ll live.” That statement makes me wince internally, because mine meant I might not live.

  “Good,” I say around the lump in my throat, finishing preparing my brunch with trembling hands and taking it over to a table. “Do you know where Sin is?”

  “Not a clue,” she leans forward to snag the slice of bread off my plate, ripping it in half and taking the smaller piece for herself, “but he left early with Ben, bloody woke me up pounding on the door.”

  Rubbing at the sharp pain in my temples, I ask, “So, what’s going on between you and Ben? Anything?”

  Immediately, her face brightens, the one eye I can actually see taking on a dreamy glaze as she answers, “I’m not sure, but I hope so. Last night he was so sweet. You know, he slept on the floor so that I could have the bed? And when his roommates came in making a racket, he told them to shut up and get out.” I’m sure her beaming smile hurts her face, but that doesn’t stop her.

  “Doesn’t the age gap bother you?” I ask and instantly wish I hadn’t, but Maya doesn’t take it the wrong way, she just laughs.

  “Nah, it’s not that big a difference. Seven or eight years maybe. Anyways, who are you to talk? Sin’s gotta be older than Ben!”

  Returning her infectious grin, I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. It’s none of my business.”

  “‘Course it’s your business,” Maya exclaims, “you’re my best friend.” That makes my stomach flip; I’ve never had a best friend before; I’ve never really had any friends at all. That was the curse of the cyber-age, I went to school online and everything was done over the internet, so I’d never really socialized with anyone my own age, except in chatrooms and game play. Pushing into my thoughts, Maya points to my untouched food, asking, “Are you gunna eat that?” Wrinkling my nose, I shake my head and push the plate towards her, suddenly feeling nauseous.

  Most of the afternoon, I spend chatting with Maya, feeling sick on and off, but by early evening I’m exhausted once more. I’m about to make my excuses and retire early, when it happens. The world around me blurs a second before it all disappears.

  I awake to confusion and hushed, urgent voices. For a moment, I panic; I don’t know where I am, but once I force my eyes open I find myself staring up into the familiar cracked ceiling of my bedroom and relax.

  “Hey, darlin’,” Sin murmurs, his face appearing above me, with Maya pressing in close to him, her face stricken and tear streaked, “how you feelin’?”

  My tongue feels thick in my mouth and my answer comes out slurred, “I dunno.” Trying to sit up, I groan when my muscles protest, flopping back down on the mattress; I feel like I’ve run a marathon. Everything hurts. “What happened?” I manage to rasp out the words.

  “You had some kinda fit,” Maya supplies, “one second you were next to me, the next you were on the floor. I swear, you started to turn purple. Scared the living day lights outa me.”

  “Sorry.” I try to lick my lips, but there’s no moisture left in my mouth. “Can I have… water?”

  “Yeah, yeah, ‘course,” Maya rushes, scrambling out of the room.

  Sin waits until she’s gone, before sitting on the edge of the bed and taking my hand. “Do you have, er… what’s it called… epilepsy?”

  Looking down at the wrinkled sheets instead of up at his concerned face, I shake my head no. I don’t have epilepsy, just leukaemia which has spread to my nervous system. In hindsight, I probably should have recognised the signs earlier; the dizziness, blurred vision and headaches are all symptoms of the disease having grown more serious.

  “Then what’s going on? You’re not tellin’ me something.”

  Now’s my chance, I can’t keep dodging the truth. Sucking in a deep breath, I curl my fingers into the sheets to stop myself from biting my nails.

  “I have Acute Myeloid Leukaemia.”

  “What’s that
?”

  “Cancer. I have cancer.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve had it all my life.” I shrug. “Frequent shots of All-Cure usually keep it at bay.”

  “So without medicine you’ll…” he struggles with the last word and I glance up to see his Adam’s apple bobbing and his brows drawn, as if he can’t quite comprehend what I’m saying.

  “Without the All-Cure I’ll die,” I say matter-of-factly, my voice strong with a calm I don’t feel.

  “Don’t say that,” he snaps, anger flaring in his eyes, “why the hell didn’t you tell me?” At that moment, Maya returns, holding a glass of slightly yellowish water. “Leave,” Sin orders.

  “But I wanna…”

  “Leave!” This time it’s a roar that makes both Maya and I jump.

  Water sloshes over Maya’s fingers as she hurries to hand me the glass and then heads for the door, rambling, “Okay, okay, I’ll go, I’ll go right now.”

  I watch her leave, before turning to Sin with a frown. “That was rude.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Dropping my gaze once more, I flinch from the unadulterated rage in his voice, because he has every right to be angry. I should have told him sooner, but I was a coward.

  Stalling, I take a sip of water, swilling it around my mouth before swallowing. “I didn’t tell you,” I start to explain after another mouthful, “because, well, I guess I just didn’t want you to know.”

  “That’s a crappy reason, I should know about something that effects your health.”

  Shrugging, I press my lips tightly together, saying in a small voice, “I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too.” The disappointment in his voice strikes a note deep within me. “I’m sorry you don’t trust me.”

  Standing up, he moves towards the door and I panic, blurting out, “Where are you going?”

  “I need to think.”

  It feels like eons before he returns. Sitting in bed, watching the door and brutalizing my thumbnail at the same time I breathe a sigh of relief when the door swings open and it’s Sin who steps inside. “I was beginning to think you weren’t going to come back.”