Page 90 of Dark Room Junkie

“What?”

But he was already gone again. I put on fresh clothes and returned to the bedroom with my backpack. But Steffan wasn’t there, so I went out to the living room. He was in the kitchen wringing out the wet cloth.

“Go!” he said irritably.

“What? Can’t I ...”

“Stay here overnight?” he asked, surprised, putting the cloth away and coming closer. “After what just happened? No, definitely not.”

“But ... it’s freezing outside.”

Fuck! What am I doing? I swore to myself never to beg.

“What are you?” Steffan’s temper flared up. “A damn bum? This isn’t a homeless shelter. Take your stuff and get out!”

“Where should I go?”Shit!That slipped out of me.

“Wait.” Steffan narrowed his eyes and pierced me with his scrutinizing gaze. “You really are a bum. And a slut on top of it. Damn it! Get lost! Out of here!”

He threw my jacket at me and grabbed me by the upper arm.

“Let go of me!” It was pointless to try to fight him. I was much too weak. He dragged me through the hallway toward the entrance. Thinking about the icy cold that awaited me outside, my blood already froze in my veins, and fear spread within me. “Please! Just give me one night, then I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

“How pathetic are you? After the stunt you pulled here? Is that how you always do it? A quick fuck for a warm bed? Get lost!”

The guy was serious, not just his facial expression but also his clenched fist.

“Damn it, man!” I said as I slipped into my boots. “Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”

“Trying to make me feel guilty?” At that moment, his fist flew toward me. With full force, my head smashed against the wall, and I sank to my knees. That hit hard. Before I was fully myself again, he pulled me up by the collar and shoved me out into the stairwell.

“If you’re done with it, you get out now!”

“Fuck! Where am I supposed to go?”

“Get yourself a bed at the shelter!”

“I’m not a damn beggar.”

“Yes, you are!”

“Can’t I at least ...”

“No!” Steffan shouted and slammed the door in my face.

Helpless and dazed, I pressed my fingers against my temples. I was still dizzy, but now anger boiled up inside me—toward myself and Steffan. “Fuck you!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I put on my jacket, slung the backpack over my shoulder, and descended the stairs. My self-hatred got me so worked up that even the icy wind outside didn’t cool me down. Enraged, I stopped in front of a store and struck the facade with my fist until it bled. The pain shot through my arm like lightning and brought me back to my senses. I gasped, cursed, and leaned back against the wall. Steffan had punched me hard, and my skull still throbbed.

It was Monday evening and almost eleven o’clock. I had no idea what to do, but one thing I knew, going home was out of the question. I couldn’t go back there anymore, even if the apartment still belonged to me until the end of the year. Just the thought of spending another night there made me feel sick again.

The shelter.

I tried to convince myself with some far-fetched arguments that I wasn’t desperate enough to knock on that door yet. But unfortunately, Steffan had hit the nail on the head. I was a damn bum. And one whose options were running out.

Tom was out of the question. I had stood up the Lighteners on Friday and owed them an explanation anyway. I wouldn’t have called him now for anything in the world. My pride wouldn’t allow it.

In fact, the shelter was still easily accessible, while the rehearsal room was on the other side of town and the last bus there had already left.

Wet flakes slapped against my face, and I shivered from the cold as I pulled up my hood. When faced with the choice between freezing in the snowstorm or swallowing my pride, reason prevailed. I feared the cold too much to survive the night outside in any way, so I boarded the next bus and headed to the emergency shelter.

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