Lost

Life Matters [Maureen]

The dingy, dark place that I called home was lit with fairy lights today. The faint music played which was nothing but an addition to my increasing headache. Few hands wave at me and I wave back. Among those waving hands, a familiar face came hoping next to me.

"You should have seen the fight, Reen. It was f*****g awesome. He was punching his guts out." Samantha described every second of the underground fight to me and I pretended to listen with a smile I learned to plaster on my face.

It was because of this victory celebration that there was a thing called the party at our place. Our place, I would rather define it as an abandoned old chemical factory, a temporary hide-out for people like me, like us. I have lived on the street since I was eight and I ran away from my foster home when my step-dad tried to kill me with a broken glass bottle.

Yeah, those were good times. The thought still makes me tremble.

Samantha, the only girl I will put in friend category molded me into who I am today. And even though I lived on streets, I turned out fine since I had no drugs or turned into a hooker. I could even read and write fine since Sabir, an old drunk man even read a newspaper to me.

"How you doin' girl?" Sam asked me when she finally realized that I zoned out of her elaborate description.

"I am fine." I lied, I do that every day.

"Jack said you fainted last night? Are you doin' some drugs or pricking some needles?" Her tone was not accusatory just concerned.

"No food can do that Sam, I am fine," I said with a faint smile.

She let it go.

"Reen, baby, can I get a victory kiss?" Ralph, the hero of the slums made his way to me.

He was not a bad guy, just a flirt. But drunk Ralph was dangerous and his friends were douche bags and I can say that from experience. Had it not been for Jack, Sam's brother I would have been nothing but a play toy for these guys. Jack, it seems held some authority over this part of the slums.

"f**k off you bastard." Sam's colorful words didn't scare Ralph but there was something about her ripped jeans, black tank top attire then yelled trouble about her.

"Don't be jealous Sammy, you can also have a piece me." He said and laughter followed from his goons.

"Clear off." Jack's tone resonated among us and Ralph face lost his smile.

They went away shouting and drinking not messing with Jack.

"I got you a doctor's appointment," Jack said slowly gauging my reaction.

I lifted my eyes to meet his dusty brown ones. Jack was really muscular from all the street fighting, hovering over a five foot five me, he was way past six inches and there was a time I had a crush on him but that was long gone now since living through hell makes you realize, love is not sustaining.

"How? I can't go under my real name. I am worried my foster family still wants me."

"After fifteen years Maureen, I don't think so." Sam encouraged.

"And it is some charity bullshit, they treat people and don't ask for names." He said like he believed it.

We all knew what such charities did, we were their healthy, helpless organ donors.

"I am fine Jack." This time I put the tone of finality in my words.

"I don't believe you. You have fainted multiple times, abrupt nose bleeds, sunken eyes. You don't look fine." He said through gritted teeth.

"But isn't that the casual look we street people should carry?" I tried to calm the situation down.

"Is everything a joke to you Maureen?" He was angry now.

"Except my life, no,"I answered him somberly.

He ran his hands across his face clearly agitated.

It was not like I hated doctors or needles. It was the idea in my mind that scared me. When I was sick my foster brother kicked me in my stomach and I had a bruise. But I refrained from sharing the pain because if they took me to doctor, I would have to hear about how much money they had to spend on something so insignificant. It's the harsh words later that I couldn't bear.

And even if I had a disease what can I do about it? Or what anyone could do about it? There was no one to grieve my pain, share it or lessen it. If I was dying, then let it be. I wasn't a fan of living anyway.

"What can I do to make you go to a doctor?" Jack pleaded and I felt sorry for him.

"I will go alright if it means so much to you." Least I could do after all he did for me.

He was only three years older than me and Sam but he practically raised both of us, kept us fed, guarded us against the spineless humans and even stole for us.

He sighed, relief evident on his face. He got up and ruffled my straight chocolate brown hair in an affectionate manner before walking off the rising rings of smoke.

"You should look decent Reen when you go there." Sam was already contemplating a hooker's attire.

Trapping a rich man was her ultimate life goal. But this was not a fairy tale and life is a b***h. I didn't say that out loud, I will not be the one to shatter her fantasy which was way better than our reality.

"I have that black coat we stole when you tried seducing a man from the bank." I reminded her and she clapped her hands together thankfully agreeing with me.

The music started blaring loudly as people started getting drunk. These were the reasons we were running short of hideouts. I felt a sharp pain in my head and I looked away from Sam, focusing on my shoes which seemed a blurred vision of torn sneakers caked with dirt.

"Reen?" She said but it felt like a voice from a distant dream.

I wanted to answer but I couldn't. Sam calling her brother was the last thing I remember before the darkness greeted me again like a familiar acquaintance.

~~~~~~~~~~~

My lids lifted with immense effort but when it did I wished I was back in the darkness. It was a good enough way to hide from my cruelty called life.

"Sasha Toroise?" A man in late thirties with a feared white doctor gown asked.

So he doesn't know my real name. I nodded not sure if I wanted to speak just yet.

I tried to get up but his suggested otherwise as he refused to let me get up.

"Please relax. I will just ask you few questions." He said with a relaxing smile as he monitored types of equipment with blaring lights and sounds.

I wanted the noise to stop but I kept the calm face one.

"Your friend said that you have been having seizures, is it true?" He was jotting down something meticulously on his notepad.

I nodded remaining silent all the while.

"Do you take drugs?" He asked not looking up from the notepad.

"I am sure you have done a test on me to check that," I said in a tired tone.

I have not eaten properly for three days, I felt like someone was putting a nail in my head I had all the rights to be cranky.

"I did." And this time he observed me with more intensity that before.

"Does your sight blur sometimes?" He was asking the right questions now.

I nodded yet again.

"This is not good." He muttered under his breath but being pin drop silence I heard him loud and clear.

I wanted to say that if I am dying, it was for the best. But that might put me in a psychiatric ward so I kept my mouth sealed.

"Tell me whatever it is, doctor." I was encouraging the poor man to pronounce my death to me.

"Brain Cancer." He muttered the words with great effort.

And even though I was ready to welcome death, his words made my eyes sting with tears. Look at those traitors, they just had to show how I really feel.

But the words out my mouth surprised him, "Don't tell anyone, not even the ones that brought me here."

Isn't there some doctor-patient confidentiality thing?

"Why?" He didn't argue or contradicted me.

"Because it will just be a burden to someone who can't help."

Jack and Sam might be sad for me, even cry with me but at the end of the day, we all were broke street people who can't help even themselves let alone another person.

Scenes flashed before my eyes when I was fourteen and some drunk men tried to rape me. Jack was there to save the day but I have gotten more than few injuries from the knife they held to my throat. I hated that Jack had to give all his winning money for my medicines.

Laugh at my expense all you can, a person so in need of help, hate help? I don't hate help, I just don't want to be a burden. Or that is what I say in my head which by the way is infected with a tumor. At least I have someone to blame for my dumbness now.

"This is a charity hospital, you can stay here if you become a member." He offered not looking like an organ dealer for now.

"And how do I become a member?" I asked genuinely interested, "Do members gets treatments for free?"

This was too much to ask for but I was hoping it was true.

He gave me the brochure, "You can read, right?"

I avoided his question and studied the paper. I looked up and laughed, dryly.

"So we need money to become a member." Thought so, nothing comes free in this world.

"You live in such a bad area, this was bound to happen." He answered thoughtfully.

I got up from the bed avoiding the painful thud in the back of my head and struggled my legs in shoes too small for my feet. I needed to steal another pair.

"Think about it, Sasha." He said and it took me a moment to realize that was my undercover name.

"Will do doc," I said and with that fake smile, I mastered I exited the room.

I was greeted by Sam and Jack in panic mode.

"Like I said, lack of food and sleep." I lied but there was a tremble rising in my throat.

It struck me as I hugged them, I was dying. I could tell no one. I had to smile and had to live through the daily struggles. For a moment my vision blurred and I blinked in desperation to get rid of it.

It will get worse, the doctor said.

"Let's get some food," Sam said interlinking her arms with me.

It was a refined way of saying let's steal from the trash can.

I pulled my lips into a smile hoping that death can come faster and bring me peace that my life lacked.

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