I walk at night.
Two people walk with me, not quite friends as much as kindred spirits. We hurry through streetlights and linger in the darkness between as we revel at the thought of being halfway hidden.
It is at times like these I am truly alive. I can hear the world breathing, sighing her mournful melody out through cracks in the sidewalk. A sadness overcomes me, washed through by the beautiful song. This can materialize as weeds that grow through concrete.
It is cold at this time of year. I slip a hood over my head and inhale my lighter's flame through a cigarette. Smoke scorches my throat and I exhale up towards the stars.
These people I walk with do not speak, nor do I. The fact that we can exist in times when the sun is alive and the town shudders sometimes brings tears to my eyes. We hurt no one. We are strong. So strong.
We cross the street at the sight of fogged up car windows. I peer in the back and see two broken teenagers trying to fix each other with hushed moans. The automobile shivers and I look towards Keith's face. We nod through the sound of young skin slapping.
Samuel busts through the window with the crowbar he had up his sleeve. The girl is screaming, the guy is spitting his vulgarities and I drag him through the hole fringed with broken glass. My steel toe slams through his lips and he is now spitting his teeth.
I realize that the girl has stopped screaming and started bleeding. Keith removes his blade from her throat and I hear a dull thud and the bubble of blood from a peirced lung.
Simutaneously, we turn and retreat back to our darkness. I bite my lip and tell myself that I hurt no one, that I am strong. So strong.