Day 1 - It smells rotten in here
My feet are sore, I can feel the blisters the road has given me. Finally, the city landscape replaces the naked skies of the desert. "I can start anew here", I think to myself, with mixed feelings of hope and exhaustion.
I set myself up in an abandoned shack on the outskirts of the city. It smells like piss, and it's hard to walk without stepping on a cockroach, but it will do. Outside, I can hear junkies fighting over a bag of dope, an old man's heavy cough, sirens... I guess the only way is up!
I dust a corner of the room as much as I can, roll myself into my coat, and go to sleep. If I imagine it strong enough, my dreams will be filled with success, girls and money, not crawlers and crazies. The sirens die in the night as I fall asleep.
Day 2 - Blood and Birds
The sirens. I can hear them in the distance. I try to open my eyes, but they seem to weigh a hundred stones. The sirens' wailing is getting closer. Louder.
I can't open my eyes. What is going on? My body is not responsive. Am I paralyzed? What the **** happened? I want to scream, but my mouth refuses to move. The sirens are now blasting in my ears. "He's waking up, I told you the dosage was wrong". Wait, what? I manage to open my right eye. All I can see is a big blur, and a blinding light. Then a sting in my arm. The sirens fade away.
The sound of birds chirping takes me out of my slumber. I am probably still dreaming, the only birds near my shack are small, hairy and diseased, and they're called rats. No, this is different. I open my eyes to a light blue coloured ceiling.
"You're finally awake". I sit up. I am in an elegantly furnished bedroom. On my right, a chest of drawers that probably costs more than I ever spent. And on it, chinese porcelain that probably put that chest to shame. I am under the covers of a giant bed with silk sheets. Sitting on a comfortable armchair near a massive window, a middle aged man is looking at me with a warm smile.
"Who are you? Where the **** am I?", I shout, a bit more aggressively than I intended to.
- Calm down, young one. You have been mugged in your home, then transported to the hospital just in time. You're lucky to even be alive.
- The hospital? This doesn't look like any of the hospitals I've been to before.
- It's because it isn't. This is my home. Well, one of my homes.
He was still smiling, and I couldn't figure out if this was reality or if I was tripping on some drug a junkie injected me with during my sleep.
"Your... Home? Why did you move me here?", I asked, while getting up. I was wearing fresh new clothes, and on the bed was laid a leather vest.
"Yes, I own this place. See, the hospital is easily overwhelmed by the number of patients they receive every day. If you stay too long, they... Find a way to free some space. Besides, I know who you are. And the least I can do is to provide you with shelter while you get back on your feet."
He knows who I am? What does that even mean, I just arrived here. I'm a nobody in this city! I fled my former life for a reason, could he... No, it's not possible. I can't figure out why, but he is bluffing.
I must have had a dumb expression on my face, because he said
"I know it's a lot to take in." He then stood up and walked to the door.
"I will now let you recover. This mansion is yours for the month to come, you only have to pay the upkeep. It's an honour to be able to help you. Feel free to contact me if you need anything."
He then closed the door before I could say anything. I painfully walk to the window. Outside, a giant garden, a swimming pool, and in the horizon, the city center... What is this madness?
I can't trust this man, I don't even know his name! But at the same time I cannot pass on such an opportunity to turn my life around. Let's see what this place has to offer.
Brenda walked into the breakfast room and plunked the fresh-cut flowers into the vase on the table. It was one thing her employer insisted on. Fresh cut flowers from the garden. Every morning. He also insisted on her wearing very particular uniforms; snug-fitting overalls with a pink top which, despite the bib of the overall, accentuated her cleavage. She wore this when working in the garden. Her other uniform was a very short skirt and a white button top which she wore in the house. She was wearing that one now. Despite her employer's insistance on these uniforms, he had never made a pass at her. For which she was grateful.
She suddenly remembered her employer had said he would be out, but that a visitor would be using the mansion for the next month. She wondered who this visitor was, and when -- and if -- he would be coming downstairs.
But than the delusions began to clear, and she realized she was alone, and living in a 1 bedroom apartment in the low income housing projects in Chicago.
(Well, that went nowhere fast.)