Nea Kris

Let the pain flow

Tommy. Second Page

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P_20170628_080157_vHDR_Auto_1In the safety of his tiny room with only one source of light: the lamp on his table (there was a window, but it faced a brick wall of building next to it), Tommy pulled the purple diary from under his coat and put it carefully on the table. Along with his lamp he had a desk table, a bed and a very small dresser. Oh yes, and of course one poster on the wall: his favorite sci-fi show since he was a kid. He didn’t own much because he had only a part-time job at the repair shop, where people could bring any electronic device. He had less than 30 hours a week and got paid a minimum wage, because he didn’t have documents, and the owner was very happy to use this for his own benefit. Mr. Sanchez wasn’t a bad man and he knew how to crack jokes, but he always looked for a way to make more money for his own pocket. He was an overweight middle-aged man with black, thick hairs. Regardless of his pay, Tommy liked Mr. Sanchez. He never could imagine him being violent. All unspent money Tommy hid in a plastic bag under the wooden floor which was easy to pull in one place. He didn’t count how much he saved, because he didn’t see any need in buying anything extra. All he needed was at the library, where he liked to read books or articles on the computer.

It was early November: sunny, but a cold day, so before sitting down, Tommy turned on heater which he had to repair several times. This thing was too old. Then he sat down and looked at the diary. A chill ran down his spine, but at the same time he felt excitement. This little notebook was somebody’s life, a life that he could now see from the inside. He didn’t know where to begin. He wanted to begin from the start of the diary, but at the same time he wanted to know what happened to this girl and if it was an emergency.

Tommy opened the dirty notebook and flipped a few pages, looking at the letters and small drawings. The pages were dirty and wet at some places so some of the writing was gone. Finally his eyes caught a picture somewhere in the middle of the diary which reminded him of a bleeding scratch. He stopped and bent his head lower to the page to see what was written on it and why this scratch or cut was bleeding.
“Scars…” – Tommy read the first word.

 

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