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The town bustled with noises of chatter, street carts rolling on the stone rock path as leaves dropped from their spring hues into cold and musty brown. I started to hate autumn. It meant the beginning of a blistering cold, huddling into blankets for warmth while fighting to survive on the scarce money I could scrape together. I strolled through town, my eyes scanning for a certain alleyway between a beauty shop and a small restaurant. Passing into the dim alleyway, I was started by the animal pushing against my feet. He nudged softly at my shoes , tilting his head curiously up at me. I sighed, knowing exactly what he was expecting.
"Hi, Roscoe." I forced the pitch of my voice higher, which only excited him more. I smiled and cracked open a container of blueberries from my school lunch, petting his head softly.
I tossed the container after Roscoe finished licking it clean, smiling at him. He seemed happy, which was enough for my heart to melt. That's all I could give him for today out of my pockets. I started walking again as Roscoe folded himself back into the pile of trash bags in search of warmth. Forcing myself past him, I pushed my feet to the concrete, staring at the cracks of it. I probably knew the cracks in the sidewalk better than anyone else. I passed by that one rich house on my block, always imagining what it would be like. Void of any troubles about my next meal, or my dad's sickness. It would look nicer if not for that ragged streak of shattered concrete across the driveway. I walked home, the warning cold of autumn beginning to bother my face. I sniffed and wiped it on my pants before entering my home again. The house was cold and desolate, darkened from the dust in the windows. The floorboards creaked under me as I shut the door, hastefully making my way to my Father's bedroom. I heard him hack out a cough as I entered and placed the medicine and water by his bedside table.
"Hey dad. How are you feeling?" He cleared his throat when I sat down, pushing a weary smile onto his cheeks.
"I'm alright, son. How are you?" He lifted his hands up as if they weighed a ton to hold mine. I wanted to tear up, but I couldn't. I had to be strong.
"I'm good, dad. I got you some painkillers." He nodded as if to tell me to help them into his mouth.
Dropping them into his mouth gently, I guided a cup of water to his frail and cracked lips, tilting it in until he was able to scarf down the pills. I set the cup down and let out a breath I didn't know I had been holding. Helping him like this always made my legs feel numb. It felt wrong to be shoving pills into the mouth of my Father, a strong man who I trusted to protect me, now falling to Amyotrophic lateral sclerosis in front of my eyes. It was incurable. There was nothing I could do to cease it's slow torture, as it gradually squeezed the life out of my once strong Father but watch and scramble for pills every day to ease the blow on his joints and limbs. He rarely found the strength to leave his bed. Even when he did, it was a gut-wrenching sight. His limbs trembled as he rose from his bed, shaking with every movement. I could feel the struggle he faced with his muscles fighting just to support himself. The floorboard's creaking sound seemed to jeer at his slow movements as I instinctively reached out my hands to steady him. Slowly but surely he found his way to the bathroom, scarcely cleaned and dimly lit with flicking lights. The door clicked shut as I fell back on the thin mattress, sighing as the unbearable tightness in my chest left me. It was always hard seeing him like this. Especially since he was the happiest man I knew barely a year ago, smiling, dancing, bouncing about the house with endless energy and impulsiveness. Day by day, it weighed down heavier on him, and equally heavier on my heart as he faced the continuous deterioration of his body. Painstakingly, he returned with a small hand from me, resting again.
"Son, could you buy some more painkillers? I have been in pain again." I flexed my core and sprung up on my feet.
"Of course, dad. Just give me an hour or so. I'll be back soon." Weakly, he waved goodbye to me as I exited, carefully shutting the door and running off into town.
Gossipers sneered at me, their whispers faintly reaching my ears as I passed through the crowds. It was a thick sea of people, slow to navigate as I combed through it slowly.
"Dirty child." Someone mocked and huffed, and I shot the older man a nasty glare. It seemed to startle him, or at least bring up some apprehension which I could barely pity.
He was vermin who couldn't help but meddle into other's lives and voice their futile input about me in low murmurs. I stole for survival. I am nothing like those who have the luxury of being able to work, or live comfortably in their homes and point at those who steal. Those who have the luxury of thinking about their morals before reaching for an apple, or someone's dropped change, or fishing from wishing wells. There is no time to wish for me, only to do. Or maybe that's what I told myself as I dashed off with a park-goer's coat they had foolishly left on the slat back of the bench. I snatched it, barely giving the man time to react before I chased after safety with my life.
"My coat! The nerve on you, boy." He grumbled through his teeth as he hobbled after me, hardly a match to the speed of a young man. I raced through the wind, the coat tightly clutched on my arm as I dashed behind corners until I was sure he would have tough luck finding me. The alleyway I found myself in was dark and familiar. I huffed in intervals, bringing myself further down until my eyes set themselves on a familiar spot. A