Chapter 4: New World Part 3

Orange-hued streetlights shone down on Francisco as he walked on a cracked sidewalk. It had been hours since the sun had set and the high skyscrapers vanished. He was in a small to medium-sized city with nothing significant to see. Only in the background could he faintly see the highlighted shadow of the Appalachian mountains. He had left Atlanta and had only just recently arrived in Dalton. Not wanting to spend any more money, Francisco decided to walk the rest of the way to his sister's house. Nevertheless, it would still take over an hour to arrive from where he was.

It was a cloudy night; the once bright moon could hardly pierce the looming overcast sky. Around Francisco, buildings and shops spanning two to three floors surrounded him. During the day, these buildings would have a comfortable atmosphere and vibrate with life, but in the darkness of night, they looked haunted and isolated. During this time, a child would be frightened at the sight of these buildings, but Francisco hardly noticed them. What Francisco was focused on right now was the future.

To say Francisco was not nervous and hesitant would be a lie. It had been years since he had last seen his sister. In their final moments together, Francisco yelled profanity at her and abandoned her. Francisco found it a surprise that she had told him her address despite all that he had done. But that was simply who she was. Even as children, she had always protected him and forgave him for all that he did. She had done more as a parent than their actual parents ever had. And when Francisco became a gang member, although she hated it, she eventually accepted it and joined him to not abandon him. Together, they killed those who attempted to stop them and built an empire in Los Angeles. However, that was never in her nature. She deserved to live a normal life, for this life of killing, death, and loss never suited her. But when she did leave, instead of accepting her decision, he slandered and cast her out in a fit of rage. To some degree, Francisco did not know how to face her. Could he simply intrude on her life and act as though nothing had happened? But what frightened him the most was dragging her back into that life. She had left it years ago, even leaving her brother because of how much she despised it. For Francisco, bringing that same chaos and death here, where she finally found peace, would be the worst thing he could do for her. That is what caused this hesitation—the fear of pushing her back into hell.

Towards the outskirts of the city, Francisco continued to walk slowly towards his place of concern. Since it was past twelve, Francisco expected to not see anyone during this walk; however, about one hundred feet away from where he currently stood was a hooded figure slumped down on the ground, leaning onto a dead streetlight. The darkness masked who it was and blended them into the night. Although the average person would stray away, Francisco walked straight towards them. From how they were positioned, it was clear the person in the hood was passed out. This was the only way to reach his destination. He could have walked onto the other side of the street; however, that side was mud and grass with no sidewalk. Not wanting to dirty his shoes or clothes, Francisco walked with no fear towards the hooded figure.

Every step Francisco took inched him closer and closer to the hooded figure. Near the hooded figure, Francisco looked deeply at them, attempting to understand whether they were truly passed out or acting. It was curiosity and wariness that led Francisco to examine the hooded figure. However, this simple curiosity had its consequences. Five feet away from them, even in the dark, Francisco could see the arm of the figure slumping out of one of its sleeves. And there, he could see a small trail of blood slowly drip down the sidewalk. At its source, various cuts and bruises could be seen slightly below the wrist of the figure. Whether they were dying or were already dead, Francisco did not want to find out. Step by step, each one getting lighter than its predecessor, Francisco walked straight past the hooded figure without waking them. But Francisco looked back. Most people would either help or call 911, but he did neither, choosing to only stare.

'I should leave. It's none of my business.'

Although he thought this, he continued to gaze at the bleeding figure. In California, this was a common sight for him, so this begged the question. Why would he linger for so long? After a minute, he finally regained himself and turned to leave. But just as he did, the street light flickered on and off. In between the two states of light and darkness, the hooded figure twitched ever so slightly. Then, a moment later, it looked up and toward Francisco, just as Francisco looked back towards them. The moment they both gazed at each other, the flickering stopped and the streetlight stayed off, plunging the two into darkness. And from this darkness, a weak and worn-out voice could be heard coming from the direction of the hooded figure.

"Baby?"

Francisco stood still and stayed silent, despite their words. Because of how weak and shrill the voice of the figure was, it was difficult to determine whether they were male or female.

"Baby, please."

Again, the hooded figure spoke, this time in a soft plea. And just like before, Francisco did not respond. Instead turning around and attempting to walk away once again. But before he could, the hooded figure stood up in a staggered manner and made its way towards Francisco. At first, the hooded figure increased its speed from a soft walk to a light jog. Then, from a light jog, it again increased its speed to a haggard run in an attempt to grasp onto Francisco.

Hearing the rushed steps, Francisco turned around, ready to fight, but before he could even get into position, the hooded figure reached him and jumped into his embrace.

At that moment, the hood on the figure's jacket flew back as dim blond hair flew out and fluttered in the air. And in the shock of the moment, Francisco heard her utter something in a low whisper.

"Thank you; I thought you had left… I thought you were gone forever."

Hearing this and smelling the strong scent of weed, Francisco was certain they were high.

"Get the hell off me."

Speaking directly to the blonde-headed woman for the first time, Francisco attempted to pull her off himself, grabbing her arms and pushing them. But her grip strengthened even further around Francisco's body. And during the struggle, in a strong, strained voice, she screamed.

"No! I will not let you go again! Please don't leave me again."

In the struggle between the two, the blood that once oozed from the wrist of the woman now smeared itself onto Francisco's clothes, staining them.

'What the hell! Why is she doing this?'

During this interaction between the two, the headlight of a car could be seen coming around past a building towards them. It would only be a short time before they arrived next to the two, but this woman's strength could not be underestimated.

With no other options, Francisco decided to try and lie.

"I won't leave, so let go."

"NO!! I know how much of a liar you are!"

"Then what can I do?"

"…Nothing. Just let me hold you."

Time was up. The once hardly visible headlights now blasted the two of them. Highlighting and revealing their positions.

It was here that the two could see each other and all their flaws. In this brief moment, the woman looked up from Francisco's chest and looked at his face for the first time, as Francisco did the same. There, in the cool white gleam of the headlights, they could both see what the other looked like.

The first thing one would notice was the long eyelashes she had, guarding her dark, blue dilated eyes. Every second Francisco stared, he could seemingly find something new and unique to distract himself. And under these eyes were dark circles that emphasized how unwell she was, all equaled out by her pale face and chapped lips, which solidified her well-being.

Staring at Francisco, the woman noticed the dark brown eyes he had. As well as the same dark circles under his eyes, as though he were also struggling. Coupled with his heavy, messy hair and lengthy beard, confirmed it. This man was, in fact, not her boyfriend. He had never been.

"Who… Who are you?"

Before Francisco could answer, a man came out of the car and screamed at him.

"Get the fuck off of her!!"

Both of them, who were caught in surprise, looked towards the man and saw him sprint towards the two of them. The women, eyes open and mouth slightly agape, saw how a fist tore through the air, aiming towards Francisco, shredding his chin, and forcefully knocking the two of them over onto the grass past the light post and sidewalk. They both rolled down the small hill, still in each other's embrace and landed at the bottom with both their clothes covered in bugs and mud.

Francisco, now dizzy from the hit, attempted to get away from the woman to face his adversary. It wasn't until that moment that she finally let go and detached herself from him. Attempting to get up and steady himself, Francisco could feel his brain knocking back and forth in his head, as well as the burning pain on his chin. And by the time he finally did steady himself, the imposing man loomed over him and punched him again. A sudden pain emerged in his stomach as the big man grabbed Francisco's shoulders and struck his knee into his stomach. Consequently, an audible gasp escaped from Francisco's mouth as he walked back and grasped his stomach.

"You can really tank a shot, huh, you dirty motherfucker!"

Saying this, the man dashed towards Francisco with a raw look of hate in his eyes. However, this time, Francisco was prepared as he unwrapped his arms from his stomach and prepared himself for the next hit in a boxer-like defensive position. But at the next moment, from the bottom of the hill, the woman spoke.

"Dad! Stop, let's just go."

It was said in a small, shattered voice as her lips quivered and her eyes stared aimlessly.

'She must finally be sober.'

"Honey, just wait for a second; I gotta kill this motherfucker!"

"Just get the hell out of my face. I didn't do shit to her."

"You're a lying sack o' shit. I saw you grabbin' all up on her."

"She grabbed me."

"How about I beat the truth out of you, huh!?"

Not listening to reason, the big-bellied man prepared to assault Francisco one last time. With a bloodthirsty look, he nearly launched himself at Francisco before his daughter spoke to him.

"He's right… I grabbed onto him… I thought. I thought it was…"

Before she could utter her next words, tears flowed out of her bloodshot eyes as she hiccuped. Wiping her tears away, she attempted to stop the downpour. Nevertheless, they continued as her father went to comfort her.

"Honey, it's okay. Let's get you home alright."

With a broken look and shivering hands, the man grasped onto the arms of his daughter and, in a caring manner, brought her up the hill into the convertible car the man had. All before departing and leaving Francisco at the bottom of the hill.

With them finally gone, Francisco let his guard down and winced as he held his stomach. While holding it, a slight amount of blood poured out of his mouth down to his chin.

There, under the guise of the black night, covered in mud and bugs, Francisco stood there with no one by his side, in absolute solitude, gripping onto his wounds.

"Ahhh, fuck does it hurt."