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 Posted: Thu Apr 01, 2010 10:22 pm
Washington, D.C. The capitol of the United States of ******** America was just like the rest of the country. Riddled with crime and drugs, and beautiful in its own grim, corrupt way. The farther away from the manicured lawns one drove, the more it was visible. The scars that had been left in this great nation had struck even here, even in the backyard of the President himself. Families were torn apart and rendered broken. Over half of the families in America were 'dysfunctional'. Was it any wonder that there were more children on the streets now then in the '50s, when having a divorced parent made you a pariah?
Hukon Joole Tari did on occasion have his times of wandering, even as a child he would wander away from his dysfunctional family. He was a scared, timid child, and so his wandering didn't go that far, but one day... Well. He just walked out the front door of their way-too-small-for-a-single-mom-and-three-kids home and never came back. He wondered if his mother wept for him, or put up a brave mask? Zito had always been a solid person. She never cried, there were no cracks in her demeanor. She was a role model for him when he could remember her between the hazy blank phases in his life. As he'd grown up on the streets (from the age of 15, anyway, when he left) the poor crazy b*****d had become addicted to many things: Sex (that was fun), alcohol (not as much fun), and finally the sweet lady Heroin and her many friends. He was happiest when he was strung out on heroin, but most any drug would do. And he had somehow gathered enough connections to get as much as he pleased.
Ten years, ten long hard years led the junkie to where he was now, by happenstance or by chance. He was sitting on the curb in front of a Save-a-Lot, eyes bloodshot and swaying as he tapped a beat on the sidewalk. Dumdumdumdum, dumdumdumdum. The drums were constant when he was sober, the constant dumdumdumdum in his head. It was painful now. So painful. Dumdumdumdum. What was that? Grasshopper. That'd probably taste good-- no. No, that's silly. Why would you think that, Hukon? No... Dumdumdumdum. Where was Jenny with his share? She promised, the b***h. Would he have to cut a b***h? Wouldn't be the first time. Dumdumdumdum.
"Ow..." He curled up on his side, right there on the sidewalk, with both hands up around his head and his knees against his stomach. "Make it stop..." Dumdumdumdum. Dumdumdumdum. Dumdumdumdum. Dumdumdumdum. DUMDUMDUMDUM--
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Posted: Thu Apr 01, 2010 11:33 pm
Life had not turned out the way Kuvunja had planned.
Her mother was always fast to say that the girl had grown up too quickly, and perhaps she was right. She had not been wonderful at the whole "childhood" bit. A quiet, aloof girl who stared a lot was never invited into any pseudo-social circles. At first, she longed for it - enough so that, once, she ran away from home for one night, just one, to go to Kimberly's sleepover. The one she had very much not been invited to. An hour later, the police returned with the shivering, sobbing 6-year-old. The cop had been kind enough to put band-aids on the bloody knuckles she got from punching the family window out of frustration when Kimberly and her friends laughed from the other side of it.
After that, Kuvunja didn't care a great deal. She inherited her mother's strong backbone, but with more than a hint of stoicism thrown in. Hukon's sudden disappearance shook her up, though. After what felt like a century of looking for him (but was really only three years), she gave up and went away to school. That went well. Post-grad life did not, so much. With no luck looking for a job - at least, not the job she wanted - she moved back home, into the basement, hoping it would be a part-time thing. Three years later, and she was still there. Saving up for moving out was nigh impossible when she was both paying off her school loans and helping her mother pay the bills. (It wasn't that she needed the help. It was that Kuvunja did not want to hear her mother's lip.)
She even helped with groceries, when she could. She hoped she hadn't forgotten anything, like she sometimes had a tendency to do, as she closed the trunk to her poor terribly old Honda Accord. It was only when she was returning the cart to the cart rack that she noticed the man trembling on the sidewalk. Her brow furrowed in noticeable disgust. D.C. was an awful place, and she couldn't wait to leave it. ...still, he was terribly close to the road... And what if he got killed infront of the Save-a-Lot? Then she would have to go to another grocery store, one further away, and gas was too damn expensive for that. She locked her car before walking to the curb, nuding the small of the man's back with her shoe.
"You shouldn't sleep there." Her voice was quiet and even. "Go to a shelter or something."
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