appropriate name. Because that’s all it was. A pit. It was a place no one in their right mind would choose to sleep.
The Pit was a condemned warehouse on the edge of town. It was dark. It smelled like sewage. It was full of questionable people, doing questionable things.
If I had been scared underneath Seventh Street Bridge, it was nothing compared to what I felt when Yoss brought me here.
But he never left my side.
At first I was suspicious of his helpfulness, remembering Tag and what I knew had been his intentions.
Yoss was a guy after all. A nice-looking one, but a guy nonetheless. And I was completely vulnerable, as much as I hated to admit it.
Though I soon realized that I wasn’t in a position to second-guess a helping hand. I’d keep my wits about me, and my eyes open. But for now, I’d accept what he offered.
He had led us to an out of the way corner behind an old conveyer belt. It was shielded from the rest of the room by an old blanket and makeshift walls that were composed of cardboard boxes and a broken table.
“It’s not much, but you’re more than welcome to crash here for now,” Yoss had said, not quite looking at me.
“This is where you live?” I had asked, trying not to sound so horrified. It was obvious from the embarrassment on his face, that Yoss was ashamed of the place he laid his head at night.
The bed was a pile of smelly, moth eaten blankets. He had made himself a small bookcase out of off cuts of timber and old cinderblocks. Piles of CDs and books lined the uneven shelves. He had gotten a battery operated camping lamp from somewhere and it stood haphazardly on top of an overturned chair.
“Yeah. For now anyway. The police come in and do a sweep every now and then and we all have to leave. But they were just here two weeks ago, so we’re all good for a little while at least,” Yoss had explained gruffly. “Look, I know it’s not five star accommodations but at least you won’t get wet when it rains.” He wouldn’t look at me, and I felt like an ass for belittling where he lived.
“No, this is fine. Great actually,” I had said overly brightly. Yoss had cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Yeah, it’s the Ritz-fucking-Carlton,” he remarked dryly.
“I appreciate it, Yoss. I really do,” I said, touching his arm. He tensed at the physical contact and I quickly removed my hand.
We had settled down on the pile of blankets, my back to Yoss. He hadn’t touched me. He seemed careful about that. He had hummed a song under his breath as I drifted off to sleep.
The screaming had finally stopped and I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my cold hands. It was chilly as I huddled against the wall.
Yoss finished his cigarette and dropped it in an old soda can. “So, Imogen, what’s the plan?”
I ran my hands through tangled hair and wished I could get a shower, but that was the least of my issues. I was hungry. I was still tired, having only slept a few hours on the concrete floor. I had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to go. I couldn’t depend on Yoss’s ongoing generosity. I was sure he had other things to worry about, let alone some strange girl he had just met.
Yoss was asking me about my plan.
The truth was I didn’t have one. I hadn’t thought much beyond getting out of my house and being on my own. I realized how shortsighted that was.
“I don’t know,” I admitted defensively.
Yoss dug around in his meager belongings until he found a toothbrush and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. He squeezed some paste onto the worn bristles and put it in his mouth.
I found myself smiling in spite of everything. The idea that Yoss was worried about dental hygiene seemed incredibly funny.
“Hey, the last thing I need is a cavity. It’s not like I can afford a dentist,” he reasoned. “It’s easier to scrounge up some money for cheap toothpaste than having a rotting hole in my mouth.”
“Yet you smoke. Shouldn’t lung cancer be
The Pit was a condemned warehouse on the edge of town. It was dark. It smelled like sewage. It was full of questionable people, doing questionable things.
If I had been scared underneath Seventh Street Bridge, it was nothing compared to what I felt when Yoss brought me here.
But he never left my side.
At first I was suspicious of his helpfulness, remembering Tag and what I knew had been his intentions.
Yoss was a guy after all. A nice-looking one, but a guy nonetheless. And I was completely vulnerable, as much as I hated to admit it.
Though I soon realized that I wasn’t in a position to second-guess a helping hand. I’d keep my wits about me, and my eyes open. But for now, I’d accept what he offered.
He had led us to an out of the way corner behind an old conveyer belt. It was shielded from the rest of the room by an old blanket and makeshift walls that were composed of cardboard boxes and a broken table.
“It’s not much, but you’re more than welcome to crash here for now,” Yoss had said, not quite looking at me.
“This is where you live?” I had asked, trying not to sound so horrified. It was obvious from the embarrassment on his face, that Yoss was ashamed of the place he laid his head at night.
The bed was a pile of smelly, moth eaten blankets. He had made himself a small bookcase out of off cuts of timber and old cinderblocks. Piles of CDs and books lined the uneven shelves. He had gotten a battery operated camping lamp from somewhere and it stood haphazardly on top of an overturned chair.
“Yeah. For now anyway. The police come in and do a sweep every now and then and we all have to leave. But they were just here two weeks ago, so we’re all good for a little while at least,” Yoss had explained gruffly. “Look, I know it’s not five star accommodations but at least you won’t get wet when it rains.” He wouldn’t look at me, and I felt like an ass for belittling where he lived.
“No, this is fine. Great actually,” I had said overly brightly. Yoss had cocked an eyebrow in disbelief.
“Yeah, it’s the Ritz-fucking-Carlton,” he remarked dryly.
“I appreciate it, Yoss. I really do,” I said, touching his arm. He tensed at the physical contact and I quickly removed my hand.
We had settled down on the pile of blankets, my back to Yoss. He hadn’t touched me. He seemed careful about that. He had hummed a song under his breath as I drifted off to sleep.
The screaming had finally stopped and I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt down over my cold hands. It was chilly as I huddled against the wall.
Yoss finished his cigarette and dropped it in an old soda can. “So, Imogen, what’s the plan?”
I ran my hands through tangled hair and wished I could get a shower, but that was the least of my issues. I was hungry. I was still tired, having only slept a few hours on the concrete floor. I had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to go. I couldn’t depend on Yoss’s ongoing generosity. I was sure he had other things to worry about, let alone some strange girl he had just met.
Yoss was asking me about my plan.
The truth was I didn’t have one. I hadn’t thought much beyond getting out of my house and being on my own. I realized how shortsighted that was.
“I don’t know,” I admitted defensively.
Yoss dug around in his meager belongings until he found a toothbrush and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. He squeezed some paste onto the worn bristles and put it in his mouth.
I found myself smiling in spite of everything. The idea that Yoss was worried about dental hygiene seemed incredibly funny.
“Hey, the last thing I need is a cavity. It’s not like I can afford a dentist,” he reasoned. “It’s easier to scrounge up some money for cheap toothpaste than having a rotting hole in my mouth.”
“Yet you smoke. Shouldn’t lung cancer be
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