Helios Beginnings (The Helios Chronicles #0.5)

by Tawa M. Witko

  “You need some help?” Riley asked but Andrew shook his head frantically.

  “Nah, I can do it, man. I’m good.”

  Riley nodded and left the room, giving Andrew some privacy to do his thing. Andrew took a few deep breaths and concentrated hard on steadying his shaking hands. After a few seconds he was able to get everything together. The minute the Heroin hit his system his heart stopped racing and his breathing steadied. He could hear talking and movement around him, but he didn’t pay attention to any of it. His eyes closed as a sense of warmth and peace washed over him.

  ~*~

  Andrew shifted his backpack to his other shoulder. He felt in his pocket. The crumpled wad of cash was small. He was almost out of money again. He let out an exacerbated breath knowing what he would have to do and fairly soon. His stomach grumbled. He hadn’t eaten in a few days and was starting to feel it. His body felt tired and weak. It was hard to imagine that a twenty-one year old could feel so old, but he did.

  He crossed the street and slipped into the alley behind the restaurant. He carefully started sifting through the top of the trash bin, trying to find something edible. Most restaurants just tossed out the food their patrons didn’t eat and often times Andrew could find enough scraps to tide him over. There was a blare of music as the door opened and the busboy walked out with a large bag in his hand.

  “Hey, buddy, you…”

  Andrew quickly started to walk away with his head down. He had no desire to converse with anyone and certainly didn’t want to see the pitiful look people always gave him.

  “Hold on, man,” the bus boy shouted after him.

  Andrew tightened his weathered jacket around his body as he exited the alley. He looked up and down the street and then towards the sky. The clouds were dark indicating that it would likely rain by evening. Andrew looked to the ground, deciding. He shoved his hand in his pocket and could tell as he wrapped his long fingers around the cash that it wasn’t enough to get a room for the night. With a sigh he headed in the direction of the nearest shelter.

  After a few short blocks, he stood across the street from the large building. There was a line forming outside already. Most shelters didn’t allow people inside during the day. This particular one would allow people in at six pm. They always offered food, so the line was generally long. He crossed the street quickly and took his place next to a man in tattered clothes. He was leaning against the wall.

  “Did they say how many they were letting in tonight?” Andrew asked casually.

  The man shook his head, but didn’t respond further. Andrew removed his backpack and took a seat, looking up in the sky once again. He only hoped that the rain would hold off until he could actually get inside. He glanced at the man beside him. He was older and smelled badly of alcohol, urine and body odor. Andrew pulled up the collar of his jacket and lowered his head, effectively blocking out most of the stench. Nothing could block it out completely.

  “Hey, get moving,” he heard as someone nudged his shoe.

  Andrew blinked a few times and realized that the line was moving forward. He rose quickly, knowing that others would shove past him if he didn’t. He kept his head down as he continued to walk slowly forward until he was inside the foyer of the building.

  “Name?”

  Andrew hesitated.

  “Sir, I need a name before you can stay here,” the woman said in a gentler tone.

  “If he doesn’t want it…”

  “Andrew,” he said, interrupting the man several paces behind him. “Walker,” he finished, using his mother’s maiden name.

  She nodded at him and handed him a ticket. “Give that to the woman over there and then you can go through the line to get a meal. Beds are on a first come first served basis so I’d suggest that once you’re done eating you go and select your cot. Do you have any questions?”

  Andrew shook his head. He’d been here before so he knew the rules. He could hear the pitter patter of the rain landing on the sidewalks outside and was thankful that he was inside. Meanwhile the woman watched as Andrew rubbed his hand against his arm. She let out a soft sigh. She hated this part but it had to be done.

  “Andrew,” she waited until he looked at her again. “There’s absolutely no using in this facility. You must stay clean while in here. If you’d like assistance with quitting I can offer…”

  “NO! I don’t need assistance. I’m fine,” he replied angrily, walking past her towards the food line.

  He wanted to turn around and leave, but he was hungry and it was wet outside. Finding a place to sleep out of the rain would be nearly impossible. He would need to swallow what little pride he had left and stay. He handed the woman the food ticket and proceeded to pile up his plate with all they had to offer. He wasn’t sure when he would eat again so in spite of his anger he ate, everything. He then watched the doors until it was time for them to enter the sleeping quarters.

  Andrew wasn’t as particular as other people were in regards to where he slept. Some men wanted the exact cot they had before, while others needed to be near one of the exits, while others would fight to be near a family member or friend. Andrew passed a few people that smelled particularly bad and settled on a cot near a woman and her young son. The boy smiled at him as he sat down.

  “Hey, little man,” Andrew said casually. The boy looked down as if surprised to be spoken too.

  Andrew watched him a moment and then pulled out his sketchpad. It wasn’t anything expensive, just something that he had picked up in the dollar store a few days ago, purely on a whim. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to buy the sketchpad and pencils in the first place but he did. He tore the paper off of it and shoved it in his pocket before digging for the pencils in his bag. He stared at the paper. It had been a long time since he had drawn anything.

  “Do you make pictures?” the little boy asked.

  He was standing right next to Andrew to his mother’s horror.

  “Miquel, get over here this instant,” his mother said frantically.

  Miquel found himself underneath his mom’s arms very quickly. Andrew almost told the mom it was okay, but that wouldn’t help the young boy survive on the streets. He needed to learn that he shouldn’t talk to people he didn’t know; it was dangerous. At least Miquel’s mother handled it better than Andrew’s parent’s had. He closed his eyes and winced at the memory of the beating he had received when his father had found out he had approached a stranger.

  “What kind of pictures do you like?” Andrew asked.

  The boy was quiet. He looked to his mother for guidance. She glanced at Andrew, assessing his level of dangerousness. He still looked like a boy to her, a boy with sad eyes. She wondered how long he had been on the streets. She smiled at her son who was watching her expectantly.

  “Go ahead, Miquel. You can tell the man.”

  “I like Spiderman,” he said turning to Andrew. “Do you know who that is?”

  Andrew smiled slightly and nodded. He remembered that in one of his placements his roommate used to read the comic books all the time. Andrew had teased him about it but in truth he had read them late at night when he couldn’t sleep.

  “Do you have any pictures of him?” The boy asked.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Oh, what do you have?”

  Andrew shook his head. “Nothing, I haven’t drawn anything yet.”

  “Miquel, that’s enough. Stop bothering him.”

  Miquel nodded at his mother and turned to face her. They talked softly to one another while Andrew watched, envious of their interaction. He turned back to his sketchpad and started drawing. It wasn’t long before the lights were turned off indicating it was time to sleep. Andrew lay awake for some time, listening to the rain fall outside, until it’s gentle cadence finally lulled him to sleep.

  “It’s okay, little man. Hang in there, help’s on the way.”

  Andrew woke up abruptly. His hand flew to his chest where he felt the bump on his skin and undern
eath that, the rapid beat of heart. His shirt was soaked in sweat, which indicated he had been having a nightmare. He reached for his bag under his pillow and pulled out a dry shirt. He listened closely to see if it was still raining outside; he didn’t hear anything. That was good because he needed to get out of there. He took his wet shirt off, not wanting to go outside in the cold with it on. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Miquel’s mother watching him.

  “Be safe,” was all she said before she laid her hand over her son and went back to sleep.

  He nodded slightly and shoved his wet shirt in the front pocket and then pulled his sketchpad out. He opened it and tore off a sheet of paper. He placed the drawing he had worked on all night underneath Miquel’s hand before he threw his backpack on. He quietly strode through the sleeping area until he got to the door.

  “Once you leave you can’t come back inside,” the night personnel informed.

  “I know. I’m not coming back,” Andrew replied, his hand wrapped tightly around his arm.

  Many hours later, Miquel stirred in his sleep and felt something unusual under his hand. He opened his eyes and found that there was a piece of paper there. He smiled widely when he saw what appeared to be a drawn comic book strip that filled the page. It told the story of a mother and boy who were rescued by the famous web-slinger and then showed them eating dinner in a big house with the word ‘Home’ scrawled above the outside door. At the bottom corner of the page it had the initials AH.

  “Mama, look,” he said nudging her awake.

  Helios, Age 22

  Andrew had given up on finding work or a permanent place to stay. He would often crash at a few places here and there, and had utilized the shelter on various occasions. Unfortunately though, the last time he had gone to the shelter, one of its staff members had offered him ‘help’, which he promptly rejected. As a result, he hadn’t been back since. His last ‘encounter’ a few months ago had produced a lot of cash for him as the woman had just been to the bank and had some nice jewelry that he was able to pawn. It had proven to be an effective haul for him and as such, he didn’t have to worry too much because that particular score had set him up for a while. In fact, he still had some cash left but not a lot so he knew he would need to get his act in gear.

  The sleazy motel that Andrew was currently in was not the least bit sanitary. Andrew walked inside the room, glancing at the crumpled, worn out comforter on the bed. He started to set his bag on the floor until he spotted the rat droppings near the crack running along the front wall. He closed his eyes tightly, fighting the urge to turn around and leave. Instead he shut the door and flipped the latch to lock it. He’d used this motel once before and under normal circumstances would not be here again, however, he was in desperate need of a shower and shave, and this was the cheapest place around. After all, he would not be able to coax sex out of someone with money looking the way he did at the moment. His whole body cringed at the thought of what he would need to do. He despised himself every time he pulled one of the scams, every time he used sex to get money. But there wasn’t any legitimate work out there for someone like Andrew, so he did what he had to do to survive.

  With a heavy sigh, he placed his backpack on the table and dug out some semi clean clothes to change in to. He then grabbed the Thrifty bag and headed into the bathroom, which if at all possible was more disgusting than the main room. He tried not to look at the stains around the sink or the ring, of what he presumed was mildew, around the shower-head. He pulled out the scissors and razor from the bag along with the little tube of toothpaste and its accompanying toothbrush. He took a deep breath and stared at himself in the mirror.

  “You’re fucking pathetic!” his reflection said with loathing.

  Andrew frowned at himself, not recognizing the man looking back at him. The haze, caused by his frequent drug use, dimmed his normal, mesmerizing green eyes. His hand touched his hollowed out cheeks under all the hair on his face. He looked like he should be on some mountain far away from civilization. His eyes shifted to his hair. He hadn’t been able to wash it in a very long time, so it was somewhat knotted. He roughly ran his fingers through it, trying to break up the knots as a few tears slowly rolled down his cheek.

  “Why the fuck am I even alive anymore?” he mumbled to himself.

  “Just do it! No one will miss a loser like you,” his reflection replied, egging him on.

  Andrew’s eyes immediately focused on the razor on the counter, briefly wondering why he shouldn’t end it all right now. He shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of that thought. He carefully wiped his tears away and picked up the scissors. He started cutting away at his beard knowing he wouldn’t be able to shave with the amount of growth he had. Once he was done with that he picked up the little bar of motel soap and started lathering his face up, bringing the razor to his jaw. His reflection was eyeing him warily. Andrew took another deep breath and started to shave. When he was done, he brought the scissors to his hair and started to trim the excess length so that it would be more manageable.

  “Go ahead, Andrew. What are you waiting for?” his reflection mocked again, eyeing the razor on the counter.

  Andrew glanced down and picked it up, smashing it against the sink and pulling out the blade. His hand trembled and the tears started to flow again. He swiped them away angrily before bringing his shaking hand to his wrist. The tip of the blade touched his skin and a small drop of blood bloomed underneath it.

  “DO IT! COWARD!” his reflection screamed.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Andrew yelled as the blade dropped from his hand.

  Andrew drew his fist back and in a fit of rage he punched the mirror. Glass scattered in the sink and just as he was about to punch it again, he saw something that was impossible. It was a shadow, a figure of someone behind him and that slight hesitation slowed the impact of his second punch. He turned quickly, thinking someone was in the room with him, but there was no one there. Andrew looked at his hand and saw that there was blood dripping from his knuckles. He groaned in frustration as he wrapped it in one of the dirty motel hand towels before stepping out of the bathroom and walking to the bed. The mattress creaked under his weight and he could feel one of the springs poking at him from under the thin material.

  “Great! Now I have to wait until the blood coagulates before I can take a shower. That was a smart move, Harrison, real smart!”

  He looked over at his backpack knowing his kit was in there. He was itching to go get it but decided it was way too early, besides he would be going over to Riley’s later. Sighing, he glanced around the dirty room and settle on his backpack again. He strode over there and started digging through it for his sketch pad. He dug further and pulled his pencils out as well. He took it to the bed and sat with his back against the headboard. He flipped to a clean page, holding the pencil above the page. He hadn’t sketched in a long time, but he had a strong desire to do so right now. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to bring the figure to the forefront of his mind. He had the distinct feeling the figure was a girl. It started to take shape. He saw long wavy dark hair and deep brown eyes. Her full lips were shimmering as they parted to form words.

  “Andrew,” she whispered.

  His eyes shot open. He wasn’t sure what he had just seen, but he needed to sketch the girl before she was completely gone from his mind. There was something about her and the way she looked at him. He stared down at the blank page and carefully brought his pencil to it. Before he knew it, the pencil started moving effortlessly as if it were always meant to draw what was on his mind. Perhaps it was.

  ~*~

  “Harrison, man, you look better. Come on in,” Riley said, opening the door wide.

  Andrew stepped inside the house and looked around to see who was there. There were actually a lot of people already lingering about. Every so often Riley would throw a big party, basically offering free drugs to people. Andrew had asked him once why he did that. Riley simply laughed and said it was good
for business. As Andrew looked around he realized that was probably true. After all, he’d given Andrew his first sample of Heroin two years ago and he’d been getting it from him ever since. Riley was the only person he trusted to buy from.

  “Hey, Ty, this is Harrison... Harrison, this is Ty,” Riley said, introducing Andrew to a tall, skinny white guy with sandy blond hair.

  Andrew shook his hand and Ty laughed. Why, Andrew didn’t know. Maybe he was already high and everything seemed funny to him. Andrew ignored him and let his eyes scan his environment, trying to find an isolated spot. He hated being around so many people but the thought of free samples was too good to pass up. He turned back to Riley who was, tilting his head just slightly and giving him a curious look.

  “You still good?” Riley asked.

  “Yeah, I still have some but I think I will need to get some money again,” Andrew replied looking around the room again.

  Riley started to laugh and nod, “Ah, is that why you cleaned up?”

  Andrew shrugged as Riley turned to Tyler. “This man right here,” he said, grabbing Andrew’s shoulder, “has the best fucking hustle in town.”

  “Really? What is it?” Tyler asked looking generally curious.

  “I mean look at him,” Riley said, grabbing Andrew’s face. “He’s got the kind of face that girls rip their panties off for.”

  Andrew immediately jerked back out of Riley’s grip. He frowned which made Riley smile. Riley didn’t understand why Andrew didn’t embrace his looks and what they could get him. He had often told him he should go full out, highest bidder kind of thing. Riley knew he could make some money off of him but Andrew always rejected his ideas on it.

  “So what, lots of guys prostitute themselves for drugs,” Tyler replied, not seeing what the big deal was.

  “I'm not a fucking prostitute,” Andrew shouted, even though at this point he wasn’t so sure he believed that anymore.